One of my favourite feminist quotes comes from Mary Wollstonecroft and it says “I do not wish them (women) to have power over men but over themselves” because I believe that is the essence of women empowerment.

I never resonate with the preoccupations of some activists with ‘demanding’ that men create spaces for women in politics, in education etc… the whole idea of creating quota systems sits rather uncomfortably with me.

For what a man gives to a woman, he has the power to withhold at some point and there is no empowerment derived from being ‘given’ – empowerment only comes with what one achieves, attains and realizes from their own efforts.

I don’t doubt women’s capabilities, potentials and talents – I don’t think they need men to ‘liberate’ them – I think they can pretty much liberate themselves – if they acquire education, work their way to the top, begin to actively participate in the highest echelons of decision-making, policy-formulation and governance.

In 2007, when I was at the University of Zimbabwe, we were witnesses to the first ever female candidate to run for the powerful (and often violently contested) post of Secretary General of the Students’ Executive Council, Maureen Kademaunga.

She won the elections in that year because she managed to galvanize the female students into one cohesive, critical mass of voters and became the most powerful student in the country at the time because student activism was very robust, radical and influential.

I have come to believe that what women need is to have power over themselves and that power manifests in overturning the status quo whenever it is employed to oppress, marginalize or discriminate against us.

Recently there was a landmark passport ruling by a Supreme Court Justice Rita Makarau ruled in favour of Margret Dongo who, two years after filing a constitutional challenge (seeking the, nullification of certain provisions of the Guardianship of Minors Act, which she claimed were discriminatory against married women who were not regarded as natural guardians of their children) finally triumphed.

I want to believe that having a female Justice presiding over the case had a lot to do with the verdict; I want to believe having a determined woman who knows her rights had a lot to do with Margeret Dongo daring to challenge the status quo.

I want to believe that the results of that ruling, which will impact favourably on married women were wrought through the actions of fellow women and that no man played a part in ridding us of that cumbersome piece of discriminatory legislation. I want to believe that these are just examples of women exercising power (not over men) but over themselves, over their lives and ultimately over the system of patriarchy that informs the conditions of their oppression, marginality and discrimination.

So, I too, wish that we as women, may choose to have power over ourselves, choose to exercise that power and choose to liberate and empower ourselves.

When I tell people that I am saving up to travel somewhere distant and exotic, they tend to look at me quizzically, as though I have lost my marbles.

“But why don’t you rather buy something sensible – say furniture or a car or a plot of land? Travel is surely not that important!”

More often than not, I am met with such responses when I start talking about my longed-for road trips through west Africa or some unexplored part of Asia.

It would seem to me that we as Zimbabweans, and Africans I dare say, don’t place much significance on becoming global citizens who know their world better.

Rather, when we travel, we’d prefer it to be on someone else’s tab – a workshop or conference where one spends the whole time in a hotel and then takes snaps around anything that bears the visited country’s name and proudly announces to all their Facebook friends, “Ndanga ndiriko! I was there!”

I will admit that once upon a time, I used to be like that. Back then, I figured that having a stamp in my passport that proved I had been to a place gave me authority to speak about it as though I had been born and bred there, even if I had only taken a few paces around some touristy places.

But then over time, I have come to realise that travel is more than just the physical act. There is such a wealth of learning – about people’s cultures and ways – waiting for you if you just take up the challenge.

I think that such experiences can be more valuable than buying things. Don’t get me wrong, it’s definitely important to invest in property . But there are things that travelling teaches you about yourself, about humanity and the sameness of us all amid our differences in geography, language, race and religion.

And also when I talk about travel, please don’t start pointing that accusatory finger at me and telling me that travel is for rich people.

Some of the best travel expeditions I have had have been on a shoestring budget and loads of adrenaline. Last year, a few friends and I bundled into a bus to Victoria Falls and stayed at a $5-a-night ‘lodge’ and had the most amazing time (eating baked beans and dry bread for breakfast and lunch, I might add!) interacting with the locals and just taking in the beauty of the majestic smoke that thunders.

And what about an even cheaper trail? How’s about a weekend exploring a part of your own city that you’ve never really paid attention to? Mbare, with all its history has a great atmosphere of life and living. Makokoba township, with its lively arts scene, is another place worth a visit.

I know there’s people living in their leafy suburban homes who would never dream of going on such tours fearing being seen ‘kughetto’. But those places we tend to look down upon harbour some of the most amazing experiences and people.

My favourite memory of visiting the Vic Falls last year was going to a bar in Chinotimba township where the music was far too loud for my ears and the half-drunk male revelers kept buying drinks for the designated ‘queen bee’ who stood in a corner gently tapping to the beat, making the jelly in her backside quiver to the men’s delight and unending attention. But each time one of them came up to her, she would shoo them away and say that she would only consider the guy’s advances on one condition – that he buy her some bottles of the beer she was plying herself with. Turns out she didn’t like any of the men anyway and used their interests to get herself sloshed! She left, very much alone, and very much unbalanced.

What a sight, and all on a working Wednesday night!

Here’s to travel and all the hilarious and mind-opening experiences that it brings.

And so next time I tell you my heart’s in Accra, please understand the itch in my blood to go to that legendary land. One day, just one day, my body will follow!

Mtunzini is a remnant 40 km fringe of unique dune forest that once claimed hundreds of miles of the Natal coast in South Africa.

The rest has been taken by holiday apartments and hotels, sugar cane farms, eucalyptus and pine forestry, and dune mining and a huge port for sea transport at Richards Bay.

This small untouched forest is where we go to shed our skins and watch with awe

As I write,
and despite the extraordinary efforts of the local conservancy who invite people in to experience this magical dynamic ecosystem,
these remnants are being visibly destroyed by drying of river sources by inland forestry
and damaged by a hotel consortium with chalets in the forest that endeavors to match their resort to meet the expectations of their visitors:

‘snakes/monkeys will get into the cottage if the trees touch the roof’
‘the paths through the forest must be clear of leaf-litter so we do not stand on a snake/scorpion/unseen death threats’
‘and the branches must be cleared above our heads’
‘and the trees that drop leaves and bird droppings and fruit on our cars’

‘Why are you here?’ I want to ask
as holes appear in the interconnections of the forest canopy where new alien plants  encroach
and my heart aches

Monavale is the small suburb in Harare, Zimbabwe, where we have lived for 30 years
It is a magic place – a large wetland enfolded by a strange outcrop of rocky hills with about 60 houses and an old age home.
The growing community has always been held together by a shared borehole (historically we had no municipal water)
For the past 10 years a number of dedicated residents in this community have established Monavale as one of the very few an urban bio-diversity centers in Southern Africa with the blessings of City Council and support from various environmental organizations.

It has been an exciting project which has involved huge work
we have now established  a wetland bird sanctuary,
protection of the unique local tree community,
an indigenous tree nursery,
vermaculture in our households,
community litter collections,
and bi-annual cleanups of dumping that have been left on the vlei surrounding us.

. . . I came home to the sound of cement mixers and banging and trucks

A 45m cell phone base station is being built 40m from our bedroom window
on the highest point at the centre of Monavale hill

no one, least of all the surrounding properties, were notified in advance

the places that I hold sacred
are being moved into that unseeing world
where development and safety and control
lay to waste to the wonder of the nature surrounds us.

This month, my friend and poet, Bev Schofield wrote in her poem ‘BUT’

I ranted and I raved
about world evil, all  the wrong
wrung out in songs and tortured poetry.
“Dear God” I cried “have you forsaken us?
If evil must be wrought then surely justice must be brought…”
“Good,” said God. “Go do it.”
“But me?” baulked I,

and like her, my heart shudders
as once again, I find myself being called to stand
at a time when my soul calls me to the garden and the simple tasks of daily living

BUT

from the first day the construction workers arrived, they were presented with the signed petition from members of the Monavale community
our letters of protest were sent to the cell phone company, to the city council, to the mayor, to every relevant authority,
and we called them in repeatedly

BUT

no legal permit to build has ever been produced
and our last feedback from the Deputy Urban Planner was as follows:
‘you will have to sue both us and the cell phone company to prove that you were not notified’.

the building continues as I write

And I rave at the unstoppable-ness of it all
how do I remember to love in this space of un-loving?

God flies past on butterfly wing
peeps over the windowsill  in a new-born bright-eyed gecko
whispers beauty in falling orange leaf
touches my coldly shedding skin with the warm sun

what is my place in all this?
is it in the stopping?
or learning to love before we have lost everything?

There are media reports that the police have applied for a license to mine diamonds at Chiadzwa. The police are also said to be demanding $3 million to offer security to COPAC during the Constitution consultation excise.  I am not a policeman, neither do I know much about policing, but I think the force has gone offside. It is the duty of the policeman to offer security to its citizenry; we have always known that the police offer services free of charge. Ensuring security during the constitution making process is just but one such duty.

Maybe the police need to clarify if it has turned into yet another parastatal, or if we now operate with a private police force in the country. This move by the police has potential to bring commotion in the near future. For example, if the police have a license to mine the precious diamonds, the army will need the same privilege and the same applies to all civil servants.

I am personally convinced that once the mining system operates in a transparent and accountable way, the income flows into government coffers should benefit all Zimbabweans, including the police.

We as citizens demand that businesses be run as businesses and that greedy spirits should not ruin our country. Policemen at roadblocks and anywhere else have turned corrupt.

It seems the whole system is becoming rotten.

God intervene.

This text message we just received sums up one person’s perspective on Zimbabwe’s inclusive government:

We mixed good and rotten tomatoes in the same basket

Whilst Natasha might have enjoyed her FIFA moment, and gotten a real buzz out of the Brazil / Zimbabwe match last week, other Zimbabweans are not so convinced. Teachers and civil servants remain poorly paid. Water and electricity shortages persist. But Zimbabwe paid US$1.8 million to get Brazil to play football here. Below are more responses from our subscribers, most of whom are disappointed by government’s priorities.

Better paying electricity with that money

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Personally I don’t support that otherwise that money should have been injected into the education sector

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Crazy priorities. Upside down. What would you expect?

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Its just unfair

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It is disheartening

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That is total negligence of systems that can rebuild Zimbabwe. It signals failure to prioritise and lack of political to improve e welfare of civil servants.

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We mixed good and rotten tomatoes in the same basket

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That means they like leisure than the people’s needs

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Its not fair enjoying soccer at the expense of other people. Zvinhu zvakaoma vamwe varibusy kuputitsa cash