PDA (Public Display of Affection)


My very first boyfriend…  That guy was as possessive as they come.  In a bid to make sure no one else would have any interests in me whatsoever he made sure he would hold my hand ALL THE TIME when we were walking, he would kiss me goodbye without fail and he was one of those guys who always wanted to hear the “I love you” at the end of a conversation.  To be honest I hated it back then I just thought it was highly unnecessary but over time I grew to like it and I ended up being the one stressing him out for PDA.


Fast forward to present day.  I strongly believe that lips were made for kissing.  If you aren’t using them for such a breathtaking experience then I honestly don’t know what you are doing in this life. I know for a fact that I will…

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The tale of “The forgotten”

The skies were blue and clear, birds chirping merrily in the distance. Now and then, a mild breeze would sweep through the surburb, diluting the intense heat that was coming from the scotching sun. The old surburb of Torwood (Kwekwe) embraced me with a strange aura filled with unsaid sorrow, fears and bitter-sweet memories of the past, the days when Zisco Steel was alive.

We got to her home, it looked abandoned, for a second, we actually thought the place had been deserted. doors locked, the tiny windows shut, its brown walls made my stomach turn, the dingy,dirty, torn curtains  hung loosely, threatening to fall off if the mild breeze outside decided to be stronger. Freedom knocked on the door, a couple of minutes passed before we got any response. The door was opened just enough for a frail old face to peep outside, her old crinkled eyes that were obscured with cataracts so completely that I could not tell her eye colour looked hard at us, eyes wide open with fear.

Like a detective, she asked us questions just to make sure we were not the police nor people from the city council. The tragedy that had befallen her on 23 July this year, had left her traumatised. She let us into her little home, dark inside and short of good furniture. Everything in the house was old, from her brown sofas that had neat yet torn covers, grey scale pictures that hung crooked on her walls and the Television set on her table that was supported by bricks. 84 year old Utaba Imana, narrated her ordeal to us.

Redcliff City Council in July this year locked out families of New Zimsteel workers and in other cases widows of former Zisco Steel workers from houses which belonged to their employer. The houses were handed over to council for free some 20 years ago.Houses in Torwood’s H-section, which were built in 1942, are now an eyesore with dilapidated infrastructure. Utaba Imana is among the 19 victims of this insensitive exercise, evicted over outstanding rate bills.

She stays in her little home with her child and grandchild, but she remains the breadwinner of the family because her child “anorwara nezvirwere zvakauya izvi  (is a victim of these diseases that are rampant in today’s world/ubulawa yimkhuhlane yalezi nsuku)” I quote. As she was narrating how they slept out in the cold for two nights, and to add insult to injury how they were sleeping on an empty stomach, locked out of the home she stayed in for the last 35 years, tears filled her eyes, and she let them wonder all over the place, evading our gazes as she unsuccessfully tried to hide her pain. The dreadful memories chocked down her voice, she spoke in almost a whisper.

This old, strong-willed and frail woman made headlines in the newspapers as she challenged her eviction in an ex-parte application (an urgent application where requiring notice is waived because it would subject one party to irreparable harm) filed at the Kwekwe Magistrates’ Court. Her eviction order was then rescinded and she was allowed to reoccupy her house until finalisation of the court case. 

When we told Utaba that we had come from Harare after reading her story from the papers and on seeing her on the National news, she stared at us inquisitively, and asked if her grandchildren who were in the capital had heard the news too (because they had taken no action). The whole team was tongue-tied, no-one had the right answer to this. I saw Freedom shrug in his seat, compassion written all over his face, his hand flew to his eyes, he was not crying but something deep and unexplainable was stirred in him.

Time was not on our side, we had a 396km journey back to Harare ahead of us, we quickly wrapped up with a prayer, and Freedom gave Utaba some money to buy groceries for the family, she ululated, with unwatched tears rolling down her cheeks. She went on to take her mealie meal container and showed us that she had used the last mealie meal the previous night to make mealie porridge for the family which they had had for supper.

Utaba Imana

It’s grossly disheartening to think of all the widows that faced the same horrendous circumstances, “The Forgotten Ones” because of the way they were treated…however like an orphan is “EVERYONE’S CHILD” each of these widows is “EVERYONE’S GRANDMA”.

When they cheat…



If they cheat with you, they will cheat on you-



Don’t worry. This post has absolutely nothing to do with me, im fine, im happy, im in a good relationship these days, i havent been cheated on-yet! This post is Mistresses inspired, yea the series. I fell behind and im tryna catch up so i spent the whole day doing that. Savvana cheated on Harry with Dominic and he lived in constant fear that she might cheat on him with that accident freak so much he ended up cheating on her. Their relationship was doomed from the start nothing good could ever come out of it.

Look look, im not one to judge a person and their life choices. But generally speaking, cheating is bad. Im not self righteous, i have been there before on both sides of the coin. I could give excuses of why i did it…

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The Lens Blur.

Faith is hard to come by In times of darkness and distress. We find ourselves asking a whole lot of questions – I know I have. Here to share a comforting word with anyone who needs one is Vimbai (@_misz_vee on Twitter. Follow her!) She made sure to let me know she isn’t a writer in any form, but she did want to share this tidbit of her take on the Word of God. Enjoy!
Life drags us through the mud and we do not see a way through all the dirt. We sleep on tear-stained pillows hoping for a better tomorrow. We walk around blind to our surroundings because we are consumed by our thoughts. We are slowly eaten up by worry. The world turns against us. Everything and I mean everything falls to pieces. We lose our jobs, we lose a family member or a friend, we face…

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Its a new day!!!

rising sunToday i want to be someone different from the girl i was yesterday…because i have learnt, because i am wiser now. I have realised that the distance between me and who i want to be is my stinking attitude, lack of confidence and lack of pride or too much of it. I want to stop shortchanging myself and thrive to be who i have always wanted to be. This is not to please anyone…but to make the girl behind this keyboard truly happy.

This morning i call myself “Hondo” (war)…because thats who i want to be…i want to fight my weaknesses…i want to fight every thought of limitation, i want to bury the temptation of going back to my past. As my sun rises this morning…so do I!

….my heart penned this…

Sitting on my bed and listening to the late Mbira guru -Chiwoniso Maraire’s soulful music, particularly Mai and Iwai Nesu, i fell under a spell of nostalgia and her lyrics cast me under a spell of melancholy, the memories swept over me vividly as if it  had all happened just yesterday.

I remember how i felt the first time i laid eyes on my Dad after hearing the news that Mama had passed away…”ooogh Gosh, i love this man, he is all i have, i don’t want you to go anywhere daddy,”, my mind screamed repeatedly as i rushed to my Dad’s open arms. Before i could crush into his embrace, he held me at arm’s length, looked deep into my tearfilled, hopeless, lost eyes and said, “watokura so mwanangu, mama vazorora”, this was venecular for “you have grown now my child, your mum has gone to rest”. If these were his words of comfort, he had done a dismal job, i wailed louder, heaven knows if that is what growing up meant, then i didnt want to. When he finally locked me in his arms, i cried hard, i dont know how i could take it if he had not been there too.

I was only fourteen, learning at a “reputable” Catholic Girls School, on that fateful morning, apart from having had a nightmare the previous night everything was normal, until i was called to the Convent. My heart raced for no apparent reason, my palms became sweaty, my tummy turned, and i could not think straight, you dont just get called to the convent. As i got there, i found my aunt who was a nun, waiting for me having a deep conversation with the nuns from our school, they went quiet the moment i walked in, and Sister Alletta (my aunt), rose to her feet and came to give me a long warm hug. As much as this seems odd now considering she  hugged me before saying anything, i did not  suspect anything then. Ogh she smelt heavenly as usual, what i did not understand is why she had decided to visit me on a Monday when we were having lessons instead of weekends like she always did. In a few moments i had learned that the reason for her visit was to collect me from school because my mum had “fallen seriously ill”. This all was too much to take for my small mind, i had 101 questions for example, when did she fall sick, when did she get worse, why was i not told? it was too big a shock. She drove me to her convent where she said we would wait for my Dad.

Upon arriving, the nuns from her “house” were remarkably very hospitable, except for one who was the eldest one i assume, from the grey hair, spectacle lenses that were thick as the bottom of a coca-cola bottle and respect she received from her colleagues. Her presence was unsettling me, she kept looking at me and firing questions about how old i was, when i had last seen my mum, how i felt about heading to Harare on my own since my Dad was taking time, i wont lie, i loathed her, whatever it is that she was trying to do she should have just saved it for another day i was not in the mood. Sister Alleta organized that i get breakfast. For the thirty minutes that followed i forgot about the troubles of my life, having been used to poorly cooked boarding school food, the cheese, bacon, eggs, sausage, toast and pure fruit juice i had was “five star”.

As soon as i finished, reallity gave me a hard slap in the face as i went to the room where Sister Alleta and five other nuns were seated, the artmosphere was thick you could cut it with a knife. I asked Sister Alleta for a pencil and plain paper, i wanted to draw something for my mum. I loved art, (this is a talent i got from my maternal side, both her brothers were artists cum designers) i drew her a rose, taking my time. it looked beautiful, like it could prick me if i perfected it more, i am trying to say if almost looked real, Beneath i wrote in big italised words- “Get Well Soon Mama, i am praying for you”. deep in my heart i was saying my rosary prayers, for God to heal my mum. The phone rang, and Sister Alletta left the room to answer.

When she came back, she headed to sit next to me, she placed her hand on my lap, in a low, calm voice, filled with emotion, she said “….hanzi mbuya vatisiya ( i have been informed that your mum has passed away). It felt like a bullet had pierced thru my skull and settled at the core of my brain, i could feel its cold metal, it made me numb. the next thing i remember- i was throwing the pencil across the room and the writting pad and my beautiful drawing to the floor. Sr Alleta hugged me, my body was shaking, tears cascaded down my cheeks salty, and uncontrollable, thin mucus too, escaped my nose as i cried out loud. I screamed “Why me God, ooooogh why meeee, why did you have to go so soon mama…”, i kept shaking my head, NOOOO this had to be a long bad dream. when i had calmed down on the physical, with episodes all the precious moments i had shared with my mum making their own slide show in my head, the other nuns took turns to come hug me and express their condolences. Disbelief tormented me, confusion doing the harassing part, pain consumed my heart and all the dreams i had.Image

Death is a subject that unsettles us all, we never give ourselves time to think about it, often we take the people who matter for granted, like we know they are going to be there forever, we dont even want to face the thought of our own death, too many plans,dreams and goals, we are just too busy to give that stubborn angel of darkness a thought or two.i had never imagined this day would come, when i would lose mama. there are soo many things i would have loved to tell her, but i never did, so many things i would have loved to do with her, apologise for all the times i was a bad child. add more lyrics to the “love letters” we wrote each other. The last memory of her lying lifeless was beautiful, she looked peaceful a faint smile was etched at the corner of her lips, she looked gorgeous, this was confirmation to me that she was in a better place. Sometimes i look at people’s profile pictures with their mothers and wish Mama was still here too so i could take a picture with her so you could all see how much i am a splitting image of her. Death is never timely…days will turn into months, months into years, but every time you think of a loved one who has gone to be with the Lord, the pain will always be fresh. You know what makes people cry when they lose a loved one, its the full realisation that life will never be the same again without them…the anxiety, uncertainty of how tomorrow will be…

….Rest in Eternal peace Mama…

what is yours is mine, and what is mine is mine

Months had passed since my heartbreak, i was now ready to love again, but i could not find anyone worth commiting to. My days had become long and empty, filled with stories from my girlfriends about their boyfriends. i was envious and happy for them at the same time, just listening to them and not having stories of my own to share made e feel like a hold hag.

I was working as a sales lady for a computer supplier and my boss always urged me to dress decent yet sexilly, as a way to lure customers- i know it sounds wrong but it worked, always! The magic in my dressing did not leave DSTV accountant unmoved, his name was Malvin.  I fell in love the first day i saw him(this was good…love at 1st sight is my kind of swing).

He was dressed in tight fitting grey formal trousers that pronounces his behind  , white shirt and a blue cadigan- his work uniform, he looked neat and sweet like a school boy, He was chubby, light skinned, and naturally smooth-shaven, he had small brown eyes that lit up when he smiled and when he threw a naughty comment, he also had dimples which made him look even more cute- he had this John Legend charisma, i could not resist him.Hs lips…oooogh his lips were a fine piece of art, i would need the whole day to tell you about how beautiful they were, and the million and a one unholy things that came to my mind whenever i laid eyes on them, his voice was soft and calm, i loved listening to him talk, it was mesmerising.

We started seeing each other, informally after work. His favourite spot was Angwa city food court at the heart of Harare. At first i thought he acted the way he did because he was still assessing the kind of girl i was, being cautious, trying to see if i was a keeper…..i thought it was a test really. Everytime we linked up, we would converse and laugh about activities that summed up his day, that was not the issue, we would engage in all this with nothing but the salt shaker, vinegar, tomato sauce starring back at us. I got in the habit of buying myself mineral water just to wash down the saliva that would have gathered in my mouth due to the tantalising smell that came from the delicious food everywhere else in that court but on our table. On one occasion he came with his two bestfriends, who asked me to get them food, i bought the whole table full meals and milkshakes for dessert, my friends had tipped me that you had to have his boys on your side, i was doing just that.

My birthday came two weeks down the line, Malvin phoned me at 12 am to say Happy Birthday, he had scored a 100 with this move, i treasure badly the first person who calls me on my birthday. He phoned thrice that day just to check on how my big day was going, it couldn’t get any sweeter. His last call was to tell me that we were meeting at a different restaurant after work, i could not contain the excitement.

Malvin was such a gentleman, when i got there he stood up, kissed me on my forehead and pulled the chair for me. I looked at him,my heart and body screaming i really love him. sub consciously i started flipping through the menu…he was quick to say, he had heard a late lunch and add on that he had forgotten his wallet at work. i continued to flip through looking for a meal that was reasonably cheap, before i had concluded, he had called the waitress and ordered a medium size plate of chips. I chose not to think a lot about what had just happened, and his next move melted me totally…he rose to his feet and looked deep into my eyes, with a smile etched at the corner of his mouth,and sang loudly, sweetly and powerfully “Happy Birthday to you”….my eyes became teary, this was soo sweet, the only thing that was getting in the way was the fact that i was almost chocking on the fresh chips that had nothing to wash them down. Anyway, just like in movies, when he finished singing, people around clapped their hands, and the ladies screamed while some exclaimed how sweet this was.The  only difference from what takes place in the movies was, the girl whose boyfriend will be singing in a restaurant full of people will be helping herself to a buffet.

Days later, he asked me to give him $100, he wanted to wrap up this deal of his, my gut told me no, lending each other money is not advisable in a relationships, chances of you ever getting that money back are close to nill. Besides, i had come to the full realisation that we were in a “money-free” relationship- money had no place anywhere…we did not use money, spend it or talk about it, so i was goig to keep it that way. i refused to lend him any money. He loved me i could see, i am not a gold digger, but his love was not enough, he did not love me with his whole, he loved me with everything else but his wallet. i was not going to let him reduce my standards. I could keep up with anything else but this, this was extreme.

Looking back now i can see that really this dude was a psycho, and i, i was dumber!!!

…………………….If you cant stand for something, you fall for anything……….

…..Holiday Highlight….

Have you ever dreamt of yourself living your “Mills and Boon” fantasy? No…that stuff belongs in the books and fairy tale , its too good to be true, its far fetched, you think of it and you just say, if there are chances of it ever happening- it definately wont be in this life.

Stacey’s phone buzzed as a Whatsapp message came though, she tossed her phone back under her pillow without even bothering to open the message because the highlight on the screen had shown her it was from “that guy”. You just get tired of empty chats at times, this is the spot where Stacey was. Her phone buzzed again, she tried to ignore it but curiosity got the best of her. And yeeees, her guess was right, it was “that guy” William again.

Stacey and William had started being app-pals four months back, they had never met, because William Stayed in Manchester, and Stacey in Africa Zambia. She called him “that guy” because really there was nothing outstanding in their app relationship save for the fact that at  one point they had  lost touch because William was requesting for “sexy pics” yet Stacey is more on the conservative tomboy side, she always avoided those. Their chats were nothing but simple updates on how the day would have gone and forwarding each other stupid jokes.

Apparently William was in Zambia for his holiday and he wanted to meet up with  Stacey. Girl rule told Stacey you donT jump right into it when a guy wants to see you, act busy- she told him she had other plans, they could probably meet on the next day ;-P. She was not really keen on meeting this guy who had obviously been westernised to the last degree and lost all ubuntu in him. The next day she deferred meeting him again, she was not really keen, this had nothing to do with the girl code really.

On the next evening, the two agreed to meet at a restaurant that was close to Stacey’s place, she wore shorts, a jacket and some flat pumps….simple but she couldn’t hide her beautiful curves, so she looked downright sexy. William phoned saying he was at the restaurant parked outside, she went there, but there was nothing like the car he was describing outside. Stacey cursed under her breath, how could he make her walk there when he wasn’t even there. She went back home mad, it was a 5 minute walk to her place, the whole time she was thinking “…seriously who does that??? make a girl walk late at night to meet up with his ghost self.”

Infact, William was lost, he was in the next town at a restaurant that had the same name. He sounded pissed too on the phone, as if someone was to blame for his broken GPS- get a life dude- Stacey thought. At last  he got to the right place and phoned Stacey to come. When Stacey got there she checked in the car that looked like the one he had said he was driving…there was no one…how is this to increase the confusion. she entered into the resturant, no one resembled the looks she had seen on William’s profile picture.

She was losing it, getting agitated, she started pacing up and down, three minutes passed, from the bathrooms came a tall, lanky, light guy who exuded a unique sexual prowesshis hair was unkempt-funky, half dried frizzy look, to sum up the look, he wore ripped black  jeans that were showing off his light thigh skin, a white tee with the graphic of a gun imprinted on it, as if that was not enough sexy, he had on a tight fitting almost shiny leather jacket.

Stacey, couldn’t help but catch her breath at his sight,he looked enchanting, like a sex-god, a sight to drool at. when he got to her, he gave her a hug, she took in his mixture of a sweet piney, faintly spicy Paco Robanne scent, the scent of his showergel hung onto his skin like vinegar on chips. As they unclasped their short and decent embrace, he staggered a little, that is when she picked that she had missed one scent, – he reeked of alcohol.

They went for icecream, shared stories and jokes, it seemed like they had known each other since forever..it felt perfect. Then, Stacey only knew William as Wills, she didnt even know his full name.they had icecream in the car, when it was finished, William suggested they go buy some more, just to buy time with her, he was also suggesting they go crush at his place. Stacey politely declined both offers. Before she dropped off infront of her apartment, Stacey leaned forward to give William a light goodnight kiss…William looked back at her, with arrogance writen all over his face and said, “why would i want to kiss you goodnight when you have refused to come sleep at my place,do you think i am a monster, i would give you your own room and the keys to it, i just want some company”.

Stacey’s head felt heavy as she slowly re-composed herself in  her seat and reached for the door….she clicked her tongue and swore…who the hell did this guy think he was?, she asked herself. Raw hate for him sprung from deep within her, no guy had ever turned her down like that! She was convinced she didn’t want to see this guy ever again. However when she went to bed that night, she asked herself, why did this guy evoke sooo much emotion in her, she felt the extremes of all feelings for him- that i don’t want to part with you ever ever, and i never want to see you again, then thoughts of how he was so sexy tormented her through the night,

The next morning she couldn’t wait to see him, the tables had turned, the hunter had become the hunted. Wiliam had other things to do, he would only be free to come and see her later. Stacey couldn’t do anything else, she was love drunk, thinking of how she would act when he comes and how she would pay back. they agreed to go for drinks later on, she wore a tight fitting lime and blue dress, as always, she wore no make up, she was a plain natural beauty. On this day, William was surprisingly  at his best behavior. Stacey had never felt this, she felt at home with this stranger, she felt free to be her true self around him. she got to ask him what he does for a living, he told her he was a professional football player, had moved abroad because of his profession. inquisitively, she asked what his full name was, then he said it like it was Barrack Obama’s- like dude do you live in a hole, you have to have heard this name before.

Stacey  was not a football fan, she had no idea who he was really. as the night was going by, off his guard, he let it slip that he earned USD25000 per month…yes this shocked stacey, but she was never a gold digger, so she didnt care.

When she got home she updated her best cousin about how the night had gone and all the extra details she head learnt, Liv (cousin) what Wills’ full name was, when she as told, she was out of breath with excitement,m she knew him, he was a superstar, then they both went on google and oooh my word, there he was all over.

Stacey could not believe it, concurrently, this was disturbing to her, it explained the haughtiness he had displayed. Her big question was, would he see her for who she really was or just as one of those girls crazy for athletes, secondly, girls in the West had all it takes to sweep a man off his foot, and here she was,  a simple girl who did not fuss about mascara or lipstick.

The next 2 days were the best days of her life, insecure yeess…but she told herself she would live the moment.Every moment with Wills was the best…he had jokes for days, he would pretend to be mean to her, just for a good cause, he would look at her like she was the only girl in the world. Stacey was living the dream.

The day Wills left for Manchester, things had changed, he was busy, unavailable half the time, his excuse was that he had a meeting with his manager,he left without seeing her, without kissing her goodbye, or giving her a chance to wish her the best and cry … this hurt Stacey, even when he got to Manchester, communication became poor, like he did not want any emotional baggage. Stacey was being treated like just a “holiday highlight”, no strings attached. The pain of falling in love with someone who wants nothing serious with you stared at Stacey deep in her eyes, she could not run away from it.

Stacey thought she would stand as one of the few people who told the story that their “Mills & Boon” fantasy came true, but well….for now she is not part of that group. Her hope is that one day he will appreciate how authentic she is and come back to her. Winning her heart wont be easy then….

DISCLAIMER: All stories on this blog are fabrications  composed by Limeempress- they have no link to blogger’s real life whatsoever!Image