Visualise Us

Sheltered beneath cool thatch
surrounded by green lawns and fig trees

a circle of Zimbabwean women sit passing a stone
sewing beads onto a red velvet cloth as each one spoke

women’s work

they cross three generations
mothers, wives, sisters, daughters, grandmothers
facilitators, lawyers, counselors, activists

What is it, we asked, that we celebrate about being women?
‘Our ability to love,
to take responsibility for our children, our families
to take responsibility for the food, and the schooling
our ability to hold serious jobs
to talk about our feelings
to share the load’

And what is difficult about being  women here, at this time?

‘Being disrespected
often abused,
by the men with whom we live
sexual harassment
political rape and violence’

It was a story of attrition and overwhelming responsibility

One of the elders spoke
of the infidelities of her husband
of the pain it had cause her young soul
as she watched over her small children

and of the growing strength of realization
that she was the one

she would not seek what was impossible
she would take the responsibility
and do the work
and love her children
because she had the courage and strength to do it

of the power and satisfaction her life had brought her
of the wonderful children she had grown into the world
of the circles of women she shared her life with

They spoke of strong, enduring, loving mothers
of the father who had supported one young woman’s journey
allowed her the freedom to make her own choices
of her gratitude for this trust in her abilities

They spoke of the ‘enemy within’
their own jealousies
of women’s part in infidelities
the insecurity they carried

And then they looked at what they could change
and of holding circles with men

It is the first conversation of many, many conversations

everything changes

Tell me; are any of your resolutions surviving January?

I decided to steer clear of the usual suspects this year – the diet, the exercise, the booze ban.  Instead I prayed for wisdom, maturity (mental, not physical obviously – you only want to be older when you are 12 and ¾’s), tolerance, restraint and grace – assuming that the diet, the exercise and the booze ban will follow as a matter of course (ha!).

These resolutions are a journey, rather than a destination (some have pointed out the potential ease of reneging and have questioned my motivation – or lack of – quite uncharitably I feel) but I do have one outstanding from last year that I hope to complete this year (and it is measurable).  It involves a reading list – the point being to read a number of books (over 100 on the list) which are selected (by a panel of academics) based on their impact on society at the time they were written (and none of them are new) or through history – whether due to literary style or content.  Some of them are painful, so painful that my Kindle remained untouched on my bedside table for weeks, and I have struggled all the way to the end of others, still not having discovered the reason they were chosen to be on The List in the first place.  Anyway, I shall persevere.

Daniel started “big school” this year.  My eyes brimmed as I took 101 photos of his first day, complete with too-long-shorts and large floppy hat.  He went off (tearful mother clutching large bog roll – you want to take a new one, not one that has dwindled to a few discreet nose-blows, and forget the dainty multi-coloured tissues – your nose will break right through and you’ll have finished the lot before you reach the car) cheerfully waving good-bye, after a hasty kiss and “I love you mom”.  I had so much to say. I was brimming with well-meaning advice on playground and bathroom etiquette. I was prepared for the “I don’t want to” battle complete with temper tantrum and tears.  And I was left, bereft and forlorn, looking after my departing child, my baby, his little satchel bouncing off his back as he ran into school.  I almost ran after him.

Tyla had her very first spelling test ever. And, after 2 afternoons of coaching and oral repetition in the car (Daniel being loudly shushed into silence), she got all her words right – I can feel my chest puffing out as I sit here.  She is enjoying Grade 2 less than she expected (things are so hard).  Still, I am always proud of her, although she may be daunted or nervous or scared, she always walks into a new situation with her chin up.

And so this year has been full of milestones already. We are well and truly launched into 2012, let’s try to remember our time here is finite – and make the best of it!

US education reformer Horace Mann: “Be ashamed to die until you have won some victory for humanity.” Jane McAdam Freud smiles. “It doesn’t have to be some big victory,” she says. “Just a little thing.”

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