It must be more than 9 years since I sat in a villa atop that steep hill of Hydra, an idyllic Greek Island and scribed Musikana — Women of Zimbabwe. It was an attempt to capture the tragedy and resilience of the young girls and women I met in Zimbabwe the 90’s, many still integral players in my life, their stories continuing, the complexity of culture and womanhood transcending borders and generations. Eventually self published on kindle, well let’s juts say, it’s not a best seller. I reread the manuscript a year ago and concluded that it wasn’t ‘too bad’. My writing style has evolved considerably since so I am tempted to do a re write, but think I’ll just accept that Musikana was written by the 45 year old me and leave it at that.
All this wafted through my mind the other day as Loveness, my driver for the week, added her own chapter to Musikana. I vividly recall my first meeting with Loveness. It was dark so I didn’t really see her features but her forthright attitude blew me away. A mere 2 days before the overthrow of Mugabe, en route to the airport Loveness asserted “We need people like you”. Initially I thought she was referring to my professional skills. But she went on,
“We need white people, and we need a white president”.
“Oh I’m sure there are locals who could do the job, you don’t need a white president, you just need a capable one who is not corrupt” I replied.
“No we need all the white farmers to return. And when the day comes, I will be the first one climbing that tower tearing down his name!” (referring to the newly named RG Mugabe International Airport).
I found it tragic that this Zimbabwean had so little faith in her own people. But as Loveness went on to tell of her father, manager of a white owned farm who had been killed by war vets as they appropriated the farm, I gleaned where her resentment and lack of faith welled from. Loveness whatsapped me the following day to check how I had fared travelling to Namibia and for a few days we conversed. Wandering Windhoek I wrote to Loveness,
“You need to get here and see how Africans can do it!” Namibia and Botswana democratic jewels in the subsaharan crown.
Arriving in Zimbabwe in 2019, Loveness was one of a few recommended for transport. Given the costs in US$ loyalty was secondary to budget so in the early days Peter, G taxis, Maggie and Loveness all ferried me around town. Meeting her in daylight I could see that Loveness was a slim pretty woman, full of vibrancy and determination. She shared her morning and schedule for the coming day, she had just dropped her son Joe off at Emerald Hill School for the Deaf — the first day of the school year and his first as a boarder. Boarding is a common practice in Zimbabwe, a legacy of colonial times perhaps? Joe is not Deaf, Emerald Hill now a school of reverse integration, the fees of hearing children a necessity to keep it afloat. Joe had been attending Emerald Hill all along but boarding is now a financial reality for Loveness, the expense of an unreliable and uneducated maid costly, and this way during term time she can throw herself even more vigorously into her business. Residing a mere 20 mins away, Loveness is prohibited from seeing Joe during term time other than by appointment and for a maximum of 30 minutes. Loveness matter of factly described her 12 year old son. She is clearly inspired by him. No longer seeing ‘difference’ Joe is the poster boy for educational integration. If at a robot (traffic light) and a beggar, blind or disabled, approaches Joe will ask his mother to give some coins promising to reimburse her later from his piggy bank.
breakfast on the run for a working girl
A single mother, Loveness is the phoenix risen from ashes, all for the love of her son. Left by Joe’s father, ‘a coloured man’ (the distinction here is black -Shona in Mashonaland, white, or the in-between ‘coloureds’), Loveness found herself on the streets of Harare with an infant. Scrounging a banana each day for her son, I imagine she stoically went without. Until ‘a white woman’ saw her plight and offered an opportunity for change. The white lady began teaching Loveness how to bake cakes — pretty much along the lines of the ‘teach a man to fish’ proverb. The lady, seeing that irrepressible spark in Loveness, invested further. Providing cooking equipment and teaching her how to budget Loveness was given a priceless head start. It was not long before her baking business was established. Ever conscious of the fragility of the Zimbabwean economy, Loveness diversified. Purchasing a car she took to cooking and delivering lunches for office workers. Adding the sale of cake ingredients to her business, soon she had cake stands for hire, sold or hired out table displays for weddings, curios, all from her shop front in the Avenues. Ever resourceful and borne of necessity, last year she added chickens to her enterprise. Loveness had saved enough money to purchase a plot about 45 minutes from the CBD where she will eventually build a home. Soon she will add hens to her ‘Master Joe’ business, for eggs, her label which also produces washing liquid, soft drink and floor polish. And then there is her driving business. The buzz words from home, ‘innovation and entrepreneurship’ are epitomised in Loveness, but the origins come from a harsher reality than home.
One afternoon Loveness invited me to see her home, a two bedroom two bathroom townhouse in The Avenues, a once luxurious part of town. Since the mid 1990s, or as the locals would have it, since the end of white rule, there has been a dearth of investment, in anything really — education, infrastructure, healthcare. While the new president has seen to the resurfacing of roads he needs to use, in the rest of the country roads are like black lace — tar and potholes in equal measure, unintended speed humps that slow commuters to a snails pace. Apartment blocks and townhouses in The Avenues are now not much above status of an urban slum. Town water is not consistently available, and not available at all in some parts, resulting in many suburban properties dropping boreholes. As a result the water table is lowering every year. Electricity is certainly more reliable than in 2009 and if you happen to live in the same district as a politician, a generator as back up is less of a necessity. Loveness’s town house, really a workplace, has storage areas, a kitchen for production of cakes, a room converted to shop front, her bedroom and that of her son housing beds and little else. Her lounge has 2 couches where she lays, often too tired to make the journey up the stair case to her bed. All those years ago Loveness vowed to the white woman all efforts would be for son. And they are.
Loveness has little patience for many of her compatriots. Even her own staff disappoint her. She recently shed some workers as she had more staff than the regular work required which, she said, led to arguments as to who’s job it was to follow her instructions. Loveness added “You know they are jealous of my success. Because they have been with me a few years they think they are the reason for my success. They became like family to me and I supported them when they were ill, but then they call in sick again and again, thinking I will pay”. She adds, unabashed, “My son has more of you people in him. He can think, he has initiative. His grandfather was white” I nearly choke, my discomfort with her racial slants quietly contained. “You know with my staff, they have worked for me for years and still I have to tell them every step, each time. You people, if you finish a task you are looking for the next thing to do or how to do it better”. I quietly reflected on the goals the staff had identified for a 15 year old girl at Safe hands, independence in her ADLs. Going by Loveness’s assertions of her fellow Shona would I be hitting my head against a brick wall?
Loveness is a business woman who has risen against all the odds. Just like business people at home who work their arses off, she has little sympathy for those who remain idle and blame the government for all the countries woes. I would meet many people in the first week back in Zimbabwe to challenge Loveness’s view of her fellow Zimbabweans. But one thing is for certain, with her drive and attitude, if Zimbabwe will let her, Loveness will thrive and give her son the future she so dearly wants him to have.
