Sunday Morning Talking Heads

I sit on my couch in my small apartment in Flushing Queens in NYC. I love to listen to the news most Sundays sometimes to a fault...or so my daughter tells me. I love to know what is going on in the world I live in but I am not obsessive about it. Sometimes I feel like the current POTUS because that is how he gets his news, watching TV and flipping from channel to channel to hear what the talking heads  are saying about him. I am different though because I choose who I watch and I do not flip from channel to channel and for me not all news channels are publishing fake news. However I can watch news for hours on end and never get bored.

Today December 3, 2017 I am listening to AMJOY on MSNBC from 10:00 am until midday. I am shaking my head as they are now conducting a postmortem of how the elections were lost by Clinton because all the male reporters were not willing to push back on issues of sexual abuse allegedly levelled against the current president because they (male talking heads) were scared of what could come out of their own private life closets to haunt them. So far Bill O'Reilly, Matt Lauer, Charlie Rose, Mark Halperin, and many others have either lost their jobs or are under suspension for one thing or another related to sexual abuse or false reporting. As such, talking heads concluded that Hillary Clinton lost because of sexual harassment that was not fully investigated and pushed back on by talking heads.

This reminded me of a conversation I had in 2005 with a white American lady. The lady was in her late 80s. We were discussing politics. As a black woman I thought America would have a female president before there could ever be a black male president. She argued that America was still a man's world more than we all thought. She told me that chances were higher for a black man being president than a female. She alluded to the fact that the men in America and most women still felt that political leadership belonged to men more than women. She mentioned that those people would vote in their thousands to prevent a woman from becoming president. To them any man any office would be better than a female.

To say I believed her then would be a lie. I realized after the primaries in 2008, when Hillary was being given a run for her money by a newly elected black senator from Illinois. He had come into my radar in 2004 when he had become the keynote speaker at the Democratic National Convention that year. That was also my first year of actually experiencing elections in the US. I learned everything from the primaries to the end. Obama's speech was resounding, exhilarating, inspirational, and motivational. The following day I went to the library and borrowed his book Dreams From My Father. It gave me an insight into the man who Democrats fell in love with in 2004. No one was left in any doubt that if he ever decided to run for presidency he would win. There he was in 2008 after one term as junior senator from Illinois giving Hillary a tough time. I started to wonder whether he would make it. I questioned whether it was that mentality my friend Thelma had told me about of assuming that any man was better than a woman or was it that people just liked him, not just liked but loved him.

I was not left in any doubt at all when he won the election to beat the well seasoned politician and  known world wide that I realized my friend was right. America was and still is a patriarchal society. The majority still believe that man were and still are better leaders than women. I did not follow the primaries in 2016. I started following the debates of one man for Republicans and one woman for Democrats. It was like watching the fight of the titans. Nobody had anything glamorous to say about the two opponents but each party wanted their candidate to win. The female knew about the world, had good strategies on policy, displayed good discipline under pressure, and had views that were impressive. The male seemed to be stirring hate the way he spoke of immigration, religion, and minorities. I could not find anything that I could admire in him as my president and leader of the free world, if elected. The bottom for me fell off the bucket the weekend the Entertainment Tonight video came to light. To watch the video I almost threw up. Who could have such an attitude towards women except someone who hated women. Politics then sunk to a new low in America for me. The fact that on video I actually saw his imaging talking of grabbing women's private parts without permission was the lowest level even. it spelled to me in capital letters I AM A FEMALE ABUSER. It was deplorable. The things he uttered I could not believe and only have him dismiss that as locker room banter was beyond the pale.

That tape was degrading and dehumanizing to women. I could not imagine any women in their right minds voting for him nor any men who cared for their daughters and respected their mothers voting for this man. There was no pushback from the talking heads each time they had him they gave him soft balls. It clicked today that the talking heads had more skeletons in their closets than the republican candidate had.

The talking and investigative heads failed America because they feared backlash. They failed America because of their personal reasons. They failed America because they did not play hardball. I suffered abuse at the hands of a man in a developing country. I could not believe living here in he US that one of the self confessed female abusers was going to occupy one of the most envied offices in the world. I was disgusted beyond anything describable.Now as the talking heads continue to talk I realize that we should not have expected the push back from men. They are still protective of the old boys club. The world is still their oyster. They hold the most powerful positions in the world. They still earn more than women. They have intimidated women into silence for centuries. How can they not have their cake and eat it?

As women we can no longer afford to stand on the side lines and hope men will do what is in the interest of women. More of us should be among the talking heads, more of us need to shout even with closed lips to the rallying cry Me Too. Let's not wait for men to push back but us to take charge and be talking heads wherever we are.  

Friendship

Count Your Blessings

Last night I visited this blog after not having been there in months. The last time I had attempted to post anything on this blog was in July 4. I could not even type one word. It was barely a month after I had come from Zimbabwe. I was under a heavy cloud of depression. I did not deal well with my sister's home going. Maybe I blamed myself that the last time we talked maybe she wanted to tell me something but no matter how much I went back to that conversation there was no hint that she knew she was going. I remember in September when I had told her that she needed better attention for her blood pressure. She assured me she was seeing a doctor regularly. Up to this day I wish I had gone to talk with him so that I could have an idea how he felt attending my sister. I had thought staying in Zimbabwe longer by the time I came back I would have recovered. Nothing was further from the truth. Yes I showed a façade so that my family would not worry about me because inwardly I was dying slowly. I was devastated by my sister's death, she was young, unlike my mom and dad. We are supposed to live past our prime but she was still in her prime and it hurt more than I let everyone know. Still in Zimbabwe I tried to surround myself with all my siblings as much as I could because I now have this gnawing fear that I can lose any of them in the blink of an eye. Maybe I wanted to absorb as much of them as I could.
Being here alone I would go for three or four days without taking a bath, I would eat one meal a day mostly cold cereal. I knew I was depressed but I just did not have the energy to do anything. I love going for walks and the only walks I took was going to the mulberry tree to pick up mulberries then I would post them on What'sapp another façade for my children to make them believe I was alright. I was not sleeping I spent days and nights on my couch wishing it could just swallow me and the pain would go away. No one can ever tell me that we grieve the same all the time. It was different for my sister. Up to now though the most difficult part is over I miss her. Knowing that I will never hear her voice nor touch and feel and smell her and see her smile that lit up the room has been the most difficult to accept. However, the Lord sent me angels and I am counting my blessings.
Late August my daughters Tatiana and Trish took me to NYC for the US Open Tennis Tournament. Maybe they noticed, maybe they did not that I was out of shape but they did not say anything. In the subway I could hardly keep up with them I would be out of breath. However, it was in those couple of days we were together I realized I had every reason to pick myself up and keep moving. How many mothers have children but the children careless about them. How many mother's wish they could do things with their children but the children do not have time for them. In that moment I realized I had been focusing on all the negative things that happened in my life and I had overlooked to count my blessings and name them one by one. I took time that first night to count my blessings, even in the passing of my sister. My kids had bought me the ticket to fly home of which without their assistance I could not afford. In her passing she afforded me the opportunity to reconnect with all my siblings and appreciate them more and show them I love them no matter our disagreements. Even from beyond she continues to reveal to me that it is not the bad things that divide us but how much weight we put on them and allow time to go by without forgiving and loving each other.
The New York trip was the second time my kids had planned something to make me realize some of my greatest wishes. Last year they planned a road trip to the west because I have always wished to see the Grand Canyon. It was the first time we went on a road trip and we touched 11 states. I did not pay a single cent for fuel, nor food, not accommodation, and neither did I drive. Who but a blessed woman can find positivity in loss. In the loss of my sister I have come to realize I am still alive and she would want to see me do the things I always wished to do. Maybe there is something I can do for her even from beyond. Love her still and know that she still lives in me and all of us who loved he and I should count my blessings because I had her for as long as I did and as an older sister.

The space betwen the words

This is not my own writing but a poem by Vicky Lettmann (Goodreads Author)  
I hope when you read it you enjoy it as much as I did.

Now you have gone into that space
Beyond language

You have gone into the pauses in our conversation
The time beyond time and time within time

You are in those moments when we sit in the audience
Waiting for the curtain to rise

And the end when the curtain has closed
And the actors have taken their bows

You are within the pauses of the bird’s song
When we strain to hear the next note

In the water between the fish
In the traveler’s silence within a foreign language

You are in the air that fills the sky
In the moments after the sunset

You are between night and day
Spirit next to soul

You are in the space between the words
The moment before the artist picks up her brush

Somehow this comforted me as I read.
I could see my sister as the space between Alexander and I
I could see her as the space between mom and Dad
The space between Foshi and Maidei
The space between Tonderai and Maidei
The space that I can never fill
But the space that is always filled

Grieving

I have lost so many family members it is even useless to count. My mom Selina in 2002, my dad Noel in 2005, my brother Fortunate in 2007, my sister Savior in 2012, and a niece Nyarai the same year. Growing up, death was a rare occasion. I remember the first person and when I first became aware of death as child, losing was my grandmother's brother, Sekuru Francis, and that must have been in  1968 or 1969. Then I later lost my grandmother Prisca in April 1977. Years and many years, would pass by before I lost any other close relatives.

However, at the turn of the century things changed not for the better but for the worse, as we started losing more and more of our family members. Maybe not the turn of the century, but the close of the last century. I remember losing my younger sister Maidei in 1993, then my eldest brother Stephen 1998, not mentioning my mother's first born Rhoderick, who was lost during the war, around 1975. All these deaths affected me in different ways but I always thought somehow it was a curse from above, maybe for something I had done.

I grieved for all their passing and most of all I would be surrounded by my family and sometimes cushioned by the innocence of being young. I am aware of Maidei's passing and how it affected me. To lose my youngest sister was just terrible and it took a toll on me as I could not accept her passing as part of life. She was the sweetest younger sister any older sister could ever wish for.  She had not yet turned 30, and I questioned why such a young life? With the passing of time I learned to live with her loss but still plagued by the idea that maybe there was something I could have done as an older sister to make her know she was loved. To this day I grieve for Maidei in silence as I miss what she could have taught me in this century, let alone her two young kids who grew up without a mother.

On February 28 2013, I received a call I had never imagined nor dreamed receiving in my life ever. I could not believe my ears when Andrew my younger sister Thandiwe's husband told me my beloved sister Tracy, the one a couple of years older than me, and the one I came after had suddenly passed away.  How does that happen? How could it have happened? How could she leave without bidding me farewell? Who was there to hold her hand as she was leaving? How come I had no inkling she was leaving? Had someone poisoned her? Had she been happy? What was ailing her? What did I say to her last time I spoke to her on the phone? When was the last time we spoke? All these questions were going through my mind as I struggled to deny what I had just heard. I did not want to accept that she was really gone forever and never to see her in this world again?

I prepared to go home that very night. I undertook the worst trip of my life, going to Zimbabwe for her funeral, just like I had done for my mother. I had vowed years earlier never to take that kind of trip but I knew if I had not gone I would have lost my mind. I met with my younger sister Doreen in Addis Ababa. That made me realize that sure enough my elder sister was no more. Arriving in Harare and seeing all my relatives who had come to welcome us if there is such a word during such a difficult time, made it real and all very real.
The worst part was to see her lifeless body in that casket, her eyes closed, and still as beautiful as though she was alive. I know people say do not weep as though you have no hope of ever seeing each other in the later life. I do not know about that life but in this life I miss my sister terribly. My heart was crushed, I wanted to hold my sis one more time but she was in that casket. I could not believe she was really gone. I had laughed with her on many occasions, I had wept with her numerous times, she gave me advice abundantly, she was the shoulder I leaned on especially since coming to the States.

We shared a lot of heartaches together, we shared the joys together, we were on this journey together. I feel as though she abandoned me because she left me without saying all I ever wanted to hear. I am grieving everyday, every night, I cannot accept she is gone. I close my eyes I see her and I want to reach out and touch her but she is not there. I love you sisi! I miss you everyday, I hope you find joy in that world that passes the joy you had in this world. May you please rest in peace, till we meet again. I will always love you my one and only Sisi Tracy.

Political Season

I first learned about politics from my two eldest brothers Rhoderick and Alexander when I was a little tiny girl growing up in my village in Rhodesia. They would tell us about the unfairness of the world late into the night or as we looked for those wild fruits that supplemented our diet. We got these fruits from the white man's farm. We would gather hute, mazhanje, matamba, maroro, nhunguru, tsvanzva, tsvoritsvoto, matohwe, hacha and all kinds of wild fruits of which I forget their names. While we did that my brothers would explain how the white men had left their own land to come and occupy our land and on top of that they occupied the best, most fertile, and biggest chunk of our country, Rhodesia then.

I did not even know the world was as big as it is, because I was limited to my environment back then. I thought it was as big as my naked eye could see. However, through the magic of the radio I learned about Mozambique, South Africa, Tanganyika, Botswana which was Bechuanaland, and many other African countries. I did not even know the western world existed. Where was the west and what was the west? My brothers would tell us about the war of Hitler and I had no idea and could not even imagine who Hitler was. As time progressed my world expanded my knowledge increased. I would question about the oppression of women by men, the girl child compared to the boy child, the black oppressed by the white, Christians against Moslems, and Jews and all never made sense to me because I always liked and loved to live to live in a free and fair world. Oh the innocence of the young. Through education, through economic depravation, through poor health provisions, I noticed the social injustices of my world.

I realized mostly the injustices were ingrained in us as we grew. However, my transition to the western world was in the 2000 was an eye opener. It was right in the middle of the 2000 election season. I had very little time to pay attention to the election process but I was knowledgeable enough. Deep down I wanted Al Gore to win. I was disappointed by his loss but I learned about the policies of the different parties and what they represented in the world that had suddenly become my home. America would have been better for me with Al Gore as the president that much I acknowledged to myself, but I could not speak publicly as I quickly realized that I was working for and with Republicans. .

By 2004 I was now seriously following the politics of America. Even when the then Illinois Senator Barack Obama give the DNC keynote speaker address in Colorado, I felt as though he was speaking to me only and for me. I searched for his book "Dreams From My Father" and was determined to find out more about this rock star politician and how his political journey would grow. He gave me hope that even though my brother had fought for our independence and was killed during the process I was hopeful Barack Obama would represent the new era of white and black playing on an equal turf. He not only represented hope for the black in America but for all who had been oppressed by whites world wide and especially for me growing up in Rhodesia.

During his campaign in 2007/8 I was fearful he would be assassinated. He ran a clean campaign even though he refused to be drawn into things that divide us he was forced to address issues of race in Philadelphia. His address once again reminded me that he was way above the fray. However, racial connotations dogged the election season but he was elected into power. The leader of the first nation in the world, was a black man. had something mystique happened during the elections? Was he destined to fulfill a destination for all blacks. I was overjoyed by his winning while he mourned the passing of his grandmother and my heart ached for him. I could not have been more proud of being black than when Obama was elected to the office of the first black president of the US.

I even attended his inauguration in DC with my daughter, Tatiana, in the middle of January with snow covering most parts of the city people shivering yet still I had never seen so many happy faces. Everyone I met that day was just smiling and later it was reported that not even a single incident of crime petty or otherwise took place on that day. Fast forward to today. I realize the more things change, they more they remain the same. We have not moved from those years of slavery and oppression of the black by white. They (whites) still feel the black should not be as privileged as they are. They refer to us as the other, they speak in codes at they try to influence whites to vote against Obama. he fights tooth and nail to change the policies but whites hide behind their fingers and say he is ineffective and they forget they are the ones who are rendering him ineffective. The republicans do not want to see him succeed because he is bringing changes they never thought possible.

My heart aches, this world is never going to accept us for who we are, what we are, and we are capable of . We have to be double smart to play on equal turf with them. We have to conquer each and every little nobody because in the eyes of the white supremacist they are somebody and I am nobody.  My heart aches for my children because they feel they will never be subjected to racism. In a way I feel sorry for them and hope they will never be made to feel like I feel. Why do they not see what I see even with my eyes tightly closed? Well maybe it's a changing world.