Tag: XOXO

Death, l have always viewed you differently and always will. Dozens of people in my life have become a mere memory because of you. I will not generalize on this death issue but will be specific as to the death l speak of because millions across the world have not only been infected but like me, have been affected by HIV. Being orphaned, losing siblings as well as relatives by this pandemic has transformed my outlook on life. My mind ponders on how different life would have been if HIV did not exist! It is agonizing to look on as one of your blood suffers through this incurable disease. Yes, there are those that have chosen to tackle the situation… Continue reading "Affected by HIV"

Today I’m boiling maize cobs. The smell coming from the pot reminds me of home. I remember the smoke from the cabin where we cooked our sadza (cooked cornmeal). My mother always told me that sadza cooked on the fire tasted better than that from the electric stove. I never tasted the difference, but now I miss her sadza. I remember sitting on top of the white cupboard in the cabin, my father chasing me off saying I should sit on the floor, legs crossed. We used to run to the shops to buy bulbs; you had to buy a 100watt one because anything else would burn out a little too soon. I remember the dusty streets where we used… Continue reading "Dear Single Woman"

Being HIV positive in a world that is full of stigma and discrimination is a burden on its own, but being an HIV-positive woman can be even more challenging. There are certain functions you cannot attend or sleepovers you are scared of going to because of the fear that someone might just find out and your secret will be out. There are some who come out openly about their status. Well, good for them, but there is a huge number living in the dark, in fear of the ‘what ifs’. When you are in your early teens, things are normal, life is fun, and you are dancing in the rain. But there comes a time when boys start asking you… Continue reading "To My Single Sisters Living with HIV"

I’m a mother of girls. My makeup doesn’t belong to me. It is communal property. Ditto my shoes and handbags. Custody of the contents of my wardrobe is shared between us all. I suppose someone has to use them. Handbags are pretty but I learnt from years of dragging around a packed-to-ripping-point diaper bag that all I really need in life (bank card and lip gloss) can fit into my pocket so I don’t actually know what goes in a regular-person handbag. I’m a mother of girls. More specifically, I am a mother of pink-loving, tutu-wearing, princess kind of girls. I am not a pink-loving, tutu-wearing, princess kind of anything. Not by any stretch of the imagination. I live in… Continue reading "Mother of Girls"