American-born, Zimbabwean actress Danai Gurira, who is conquering Hollywood and Broadway, gave a talk recently about her trajectory in the industry, her artistic principles and work ethic, how she envisions her work will shape the artistic landscape for future generations, her thoughts on the future of the Arts Industry in Zimbabwe.

Danai explained how she got into acting and writing by saying that the arts found her. While in high school she realised that when she performed, something special happened between her and an audience and she felt she would lose all sense of time and place. Encouraged by her parents to pursue what she was good at, she continued her studies in the arts, after having initially studied psychology and liberal arts. Danai started to create pieces in response to the fact that she was not finding portrayals of Africans that she wanted to play. Actors tend to be at the bottom of the food chain in the American industry, but with good training during her 2nd degree, she learnt how to create her own work and not just sit and wait by the phone. This is how her world-famous play In the Continuum was born. She was encouraged to discover that she could create things in America, about Zimbabweans, and the people in both places (and in-between) would get it. It was also quite clear that Gurira appreciates and revels in the fact that her debut performance on the world stage, was of her own work, in her own voice.

While so many of us associate the film industry with glitz, glamour and money, one quickly realises that Gurira is all about the craft and creating the best artistic products she can. From early on she has been driven by her desire to create things that are connected to what is important to her, what she is trying to give the world and what she visualises about her future artistic interests. This focused attitude has led her to be quite picky about what she gives her energy to by finding out what the spirit of the work is and if it is really giving life and a different dimension and complexity to a story.

When Gurira comes home, she holds workshops in order to transfer all that she has learnt from her time in the US. She strives to help young Zimbabwean actors know the level of work-ethic, ferocity, and energy required to succeed in the competitive industry and make people feel they have no choice but to hire you. One also has to develop a thick skin as only 2-5% of your auditions may lead to work.

Though Danai felt that it would be quite tricky to say how our country should develop the industry, which is currently not so strong, she believes that we should try to nurture standards of excellence that are specific to who we are, as a nation. Though it is tempting to follow the footsteps of African countries like Nigeria, which has a thriving film industry, she feels it would be unwise to use another country’s template. There is a need for Zimbabwean artists to continuously challenge themselves, to remain sharp in artistry, and always in pursuit of excellence. Gurira insists that excellence in the quality of work we produce, will ensure that we begin to produce work that is on a globally recognisable level, not because it caters to western ideologies or structures, but because no one can deny or ignore it’s superior quality, as artistic excellence is not bound by language and culture.

In order to achieve this Gurira says Zimbabwean artists have to be innovative and pioneering in contributing to the work that will build the industry, all the while, having in the back of their minds, a clear vision about the future artistic landscape of Zimbabwe. It is about thinking far ahead and beyond ourselves, and creating something that is so excellently executed, that it will stand the test of time, so that if someone picked it up decades from now, it will still be a brilliant piece of Zimbabwean literature, (Harvest of Thorns). When asked what she wanted her legacy to be, Danai Gurira said, “I want people to pick up my work in 100 years and be able to do it – [so that] men and women have opportunities to really shine, in African roles.”

In this month’s Vanity Fair, the Proust Questionnaire interviews Desmond Tutu. Read his touching, thought provoking answers below:

The Most Reverend Desmond Tutu has recently celebrated his 80th birthday and the publication of a new biography, Tutu: The Authorised Portrait. Here, the Nobel laureate muses on rum-raisin ice cream, crybabies, and how he just loves to be loved.

What is your idea of perfect happiness?
When we all live together in harmony as one family, in real interdependence; when all have enough to eat, have enough clean water to drink, have decent health care and we know war no more.

What is your greatest fear?
I fear we will destroy ourselves through our greed and our destruction of our environment.

Which historical figure do you identify with?
Jeremiah, the prophet.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
I love to be loved.

What is the trait you most deplore in others?
A disregard of others.

What is your greatest extravagance?
Rum-raisin ice cream.

Which living person do you most despise?
No one.

What is your greatest regret?
Not telling people they had done very well often enough.

What or who is the greatest love of your life?
My wife, Leah, and my mother.

When and where were you happiest?
On April 14, 1956, when our son Trevor, was born.

Which talent would you most like to have?
To be able to read music.

What is your current state of mind?
Joyful and serene.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
Not wanting so much to be loved.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?
It is collective: When we won our freedom.

If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?
A mother.

If you could choose what to come back as, what would it be?
As me.

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
Being treated as rubbish, as a nonperson.

What is your most marked characteristic?
Being a crybaby.

What do you most value in your friends?
That there is no humbug; they are themselves.

Who are your favourite writers?
Nadine Gordimer, Alan Paton.

Who is you favourite hero of fiction?
Sherlock Holmes.

Who are your heroes on real life?
Aung San Suu Kyi, H.H. the Dalai Lama, Nelson Mandela, my mother, my wife.

How would you like to die?
Peacefully in bed, with my loved ones around me.

What is your motto?
“Everyone is precious, everyone matters.”

Source: Vanity Fair

Is the stigma of AIDS as devastating, if not more than the disease itself?
Kenneth Cole

I was part of a discussion with a group of youths about getting tested for HIV. One of the guys, let’s call him Fred, wanted to go and get tested, but he was afraid to go it alone. He asked his ‘Boyz’ if they would come and get tested with him, and this is where the drama started! The ‘Boyz’ said things like, “I’ll come with you and even hold your hand, for moral support. But I will NEVER get tested!” I felt sorry for him, because he desperately wanted to know his status, but was too petrified to do it alone. I asked them why getting tested was such a big no-no, and they basically said that they were scared and ashamed of dying of AIDS and would rather go on living in blissful ignorance, and then, die anyway. Sadly, these ‘Boyz’ represent a vast majority of Zimbabwe’s youth.

So, why are so many people scared of AIDS? Looking back early HIV/AIDS awareness and prevention campaigns in Zimbabwe, it is not difficult to see why. AIDS was depicted as this beastly killer that savagely tortured it’s victims until they withered away and eventually died, pitiful shadows of their former selves. I remember the ‘AIDS IS A DEADLY KILLER DISEASE!’ posters that were plastered all around my primary school. There was not so much information about the disease then. All we knew was that people who got it were bad people, who got it doing bad things, and that it kills. That was all we needed to know.

Looking at the history of HIV/AIDS in Zimbabwe, we see that most people never admitted to having the disease. People came up with all sorts of phrases, (The silent killer; A long illness; Ari muBhazi (Shona)), to avoid having to say AIDS. This culture of shame and secrecy surrounding the disease still has a strong hold on us today. Even now, when we have so much more information on HIV/AIDS that can dispel a lot of the cultivated myths and counteract our earlier mis-education on the disease, people are still ashamed, secretive and scared to talk about it. One can’t talk openly about AIDS without encountering some prejudice and apprehension. This has to change, because the reality is that people are dying needlessly.

What’s most alarming is that we can’t be absolutely sure of the number of people who are infected, (as demonstrated by the ‘Boyz’), since so few people actually get tested for HIV (about 5%), mainly because having a positive HIV status is viewed as iniquitous and disgraceful or as a death sentence. This stigma leads to discrimination of those infected and prevents more people from admitting to their status, getting tested and seeking treatment and psycho-social support. It is important for us to find was to destroy this stigma and render it powerless in Zimbabwe, with the aim to increase awareness and reduced infection in youth, because let’s face it, our youth are having sex earlier and earlier, and condoms are not exactly cool. If they continue to behave like this, they WILL get infected. But, will we never know this for sure, if they are they are so scared and unwilling to get tested?

In fighting the stigma and we can follow the examples of the late Natasha Richardson, (whose father died of the disease), and was involved in countless fund-raising efforts for HIV/AIDS research, and ex-NBA basket-baller, ‘Magic’ Johnson, who in 1992 began a life-long, HIV/AIDS awareness, education, and prevention campaign, when he announced to the world that he was HIV positive.

From a logical point of view, one would want to know their status as soon as possible, in order that they may get on proper medication, and live as long a life as they can. But when faced with the reality of a positive HIV status, all that logic/reason flies out of the window, and ignorance and fear take over. Let’s fight stigma so more can feel encouraged to know their status, stay protected and truly live positively.

The Voluntary Media Council of Zimbabwe (VMCZ) today reported on a new concern which has been raised through their complaints mechanism, Charity Maruta v/s Daily News, NewsDay and the Herald. According to VMCZ:

Charity Maruta has lodged a complaint with the MCC against NewsDay, The Daily News and The Herald in the manner that they have portrayed the supposedly three women rapists arrested by police in Gweru early this month. Maruta says the media organisations have taken it upon themselves to be the judges and have convicted the three women before they even appeared in court. She says this is irresponsible reporting of the highest degree. She wants the media to report the matter responsibly. Letters have been written to the concerned newspapers.

This is a valuable reminder to all of us that we can each make a difference. Holding our media accountable is something we can all take responsibility for. Contact VMCZ for more information about the media complaint mechanism.

Visitors would come three times a day after every meal. They would come by the dozen and I would wait eagerly for them. I would sit with them, thoroughly enjoying their company. I spent long hours with them, and yet did not get bored. They would come and give us hope that life had not come to a halt. Every time I saw them, I felt comfortable. They walked so quickly that the guards didn’t know they were there, otherwise they would be eliminated.

I am talking about the wonderful nation of ants. These beautiful creatures would visit me in my steel prison, bringing hope and life. I secretly saved food for them in a corner. If the guards saw them they would either spray them with pesticide or crush them beneath their military boots. I would get angry, and shout at them, “Do not the ants have a right to life? They do not trouble you so why do you have to kill them?’ When the soldiers found out that we fed the ants, they punished us by cutting our rations. That didn’t stop me from keeping ants in my cell. I observed them and studied their way of life every day.

I would sometimes leave them a peanut, whenever available. I spilt the beans into halves and left each half on the floor with the flat side down. The ants would come and eat the entire bean from the inside leaving the skin as it had been left for them. If you saw it you wouldn’t know that the inside had been eaten until you turned it over to find it empty. I found it amusing. Whenever I put food in the corner, one of the ants would come to search. If it found food it would return to its friends and inform them, and show them the way. The ants all varied in the contribution to the work; some carried small pieces, and others carried pieces bigger than themselves back to their homes. I didn’t know that ants drank before, but now I would save them a few drops of sweet tea, which they would drink until they swelled up.

When the ants came to visit, life would creep back into my dead cell. I would feel hope instead of despair. Their presence in my company, however, was not free of danger, as the soldiers would come to inspect the cells, so I always feared for them. Before inspections I would blow towards them, which made them disperse, while I got rid of the food. They soon became accustomed to this puff of air, which became their warning signal, so that each time they felt it they realized danger was close and ran away. When the soldiers would return me back to my cell after the search, the first thing I would look for were ant bodies. When I didn’t find any I felt relieved, knowing that the ants had safely escaped.

- Ahmed Errachidi

[Ahmed Errachidi was held in extrajudicial detention in the US Guatanamo Bay detainment camps in Cuba for five years until his release in 2007. This piece is an excerpt from his memoir, A Handful of Walnuts will be published by Chatto & Windus in 2012. The excerpt was published in Granta.]

We’ve walked the whole day and we’re not even in Mutare. The Inn on the Vumba hasn’t had power since 6am. I feel a bit like we’re doing a black out to black out national tour.

By 9pm Bev is lights out. Not that I can blame her. These days are long and hot and tiring.

This journey is hugely challenging. Taxing on the mind as well as the body. You have to think about something other than what you’re doing as you go. If you actually felt what your body was really feeling? You’d just stop dead.  But at the same time, I’m loving it. I find myself saying “I couldn’t be happier,” several times a day. And each time, I mean it.

Read the birthday adventure walk diary here

View the photostream here