After decades of civil war, often based on ethnicity, religion, ideology and oil between the north and south, South Sudan finally gained its freedom and its now a Republic. South Sudan will become the 55th nation in Africa.

Saturday the 9th of July was indeed a day to celebrate in Juba the capital city of South Sudan when the flag of South Sudan was flown with the national anthem playing for the first time to mark its independence. The nation was born out a referendum in which the Southerners voted overwhelmingly to separate from the North. With its vast oil deposits and with a mainly Christian population, South Sudan hopes to start a new beginning after its hard-earned independence.

But despite having one of the biggest oil reserves in Africa, 90 percent of the people of South Sudan were living on less than half a dollar per day. One hopes that the new government of South Sudan will use its oil resources to enhance the living standards of its citizens and promote democracy and respect for human rights. Indeed God led the people of South Sudan to a well-deserved independence after a long struggle; let us all help the South Sudanese in singing their national anthem and celebrate their hard earned freedom.

South Sudan National Anthem

Oh God
We praise and glorify you
For your grace on South Sudan,
Land of great abundance
Uphold us united in peace and harmony.

Oh motherland
We rise raising flag with the guiding star
And sing songs of freedom with joy,
For justice, liberty and prosperity
Shall forever more reign.

Oh great patriots
Let us stand up in silence and respect,
Saluting our martyrs whose blood
Cemented our national foundation,
We vow to protect our nation

Oh God bless South Sudan.

Zimbabwean Journalist Forward Maisokwadzo has become the first person to receive the European Network against Racism Foundation’s (ENAR) award for outstanding achievement across Europe. It is a tribute to his three years of hard work in preparing Bristol’s bid to be part of a national network of cities recognised as providing a comprehensive, coordinated approach to the welfare of people moving to the city from other countries, and community cohesion.

Read story here

The Graduation Ceremony of students who got scholarships in the US under the US Student Achievers Program (USAP) was held yesterday. This event was a true personification of Ambassadors Ray’s latest book title, ‘Where you come from matters less than where you’re going”. It is true in the sense that students are academically talented with most of them being head boys and head girls in their former schools, but face financial challenges in furthering their education.  Some have lost both parents, others are heads of their own households and three of them are physically disabled. Despite such backgrounds USAP has afforded them the opportunity to study at top US colleges and universities including Harvard. This resembles the title of the Ambassador’s book; in that one day you may be somewhere great and tell a different story altogether.

The event was graced by the Prime Minister, Morgan Tsvangirai and Ambassador Charles Ray. The PM encouraged the students to exhibit the Zimbabwean characteristics of ‘hospitality and hard work’ and to return home. In that same vein the Ambassador urged the students to return to Zimbabwe with these words, “And do return. Zimbabwe needs you and your talent, your open minds and your news ideas, to realise its potential”.

A few days ago I was stopped at a police roadblock on my way home. While the officer was writing my ticket, he commented,

‘Ah sisi munogona kunosa.’ (not a nice way of saying you speak Shona with an accent)

Then he proceeded to try and get my phone number.

I have never been black enough. When I was very young my family conducted a roora ceremony for my aunt and we all moved kumusha for a week. Not having any other girls my age to play with, and having been shooed away from the cooking fire whenever the older women wanted to talk about men too many times to keep trying, I spent much of my time indoors reading. One day my older cousin recited Roses are red, violets are blue, you brother and me are black, but what are you?’

It was over twenty years ago, and I was half way through primary school at the time, but it was cruel.

I’ve never really liked that cousin since then.

When I first returned from the Diaspora, relatives would ask my mother if I still spoke Shona and observed our traditions. The implication being that I was no longer one of them.

‘Handiye apfugama achimuoberayi zakanaka?’ (Isn’t she the one who knelt and greeted you properly?) My mother would reply.

Later, I dated a man whose mother objected to our relationship because I was too privileged to be a ‘good African woman’. Her assumption was that because I had grown up kuma ‘dale-dale’, had attended private school, and lived outside Zimbabwe briefly, I was too ‘sala’ to qualify as such. Once in a heated conversation she asked him

‘Kamusalad kako kanombogona kubika sadza here?’ (Does your salad girlfriend even know how to cook sadza?)

I am not alone, there a few born-frees out there who grew up much the same way I did. Criticisms of the born-free generation are not all equal. For those who grew up in the middle class, and are perceived to have been granted access to privilege and lost their culture and language in the process, it holds a particular disdain. There are times when we are faced with the difficult choice of either embracing our otherness, or apologizing for the way we were raised.

I don’t believe in apologizing for the way my parents raised me. Especially to anyone who’s view of tradition, culture and history is narrowly defined in terms of where in Harare I grew up, how I speak Shona, and whether I cook or eat sadza. There is more to us than that, and it’s a shame that those who are loudest in defining our cultural identity believe that those things constitute the totality of who we are.  I think that is a very simple minded reduction of a complex culture, and a language that is steeped in a rich history. What I, and others like me, are judged for is not our acculturation, but rather that person’s lack of access to privilege.

On the 15th there was a lunar eclipse over most of Africa
25 Tree of Life facilitators were at a workshop together
where they had been exploring their lives, their experiences, their visions

They were at a place where huge granite rocks split open the ground
and, atop one of these towering monoliths
with a view from horizon to horizon
they watched the slowly-growing golden-bite eat into the moon
entering the shadow – losing its light
the growing radiance of the stars

In Shona tradition this is known as the ‘rotten moon’
death and rebirth?

In modern culture it is explained as the moon moving into the earth’s shadow
as it slips slowly backwards in its orbit around us

the discussion ensued…
different views were aired
new ways of seeing
looking for meaning
cell phones were taken out
and families and friends in rural homes and  high density townships
were brought into the web of witnessing

Stories from our ancestors carry old wisdoms;
reminding us of our connection with the land and the changing seasons,
of great harvests and great warriors and teachers,
and of the turning of the planet and the movement of the stars.

But these are the new ancestors
- these moon watchers
and they are living new stories
organic stories that change as they are lived
changing in meaning as they are re-viewed, re-told

Stories not locked in the unchanging stone of ancient tales
but sculptured and woven onto the surface
changing shape in time and space.

What are the stories we tell as we paint our lives?
do stars flow from our mouths?
stories of joy and connection?
of power and endurance?

Will we be the ones who refused to accept what is unacceptable and acted on our truth?
Will we be the ones who stopped allowing outside power/culture /social taboos/approval
- act as barriers to us taking responsibility?
Will we be the ones who walked with love and grace and gratitude?

everything changes
when does the balance shift?

the rulers who hold power with a violent fist
are hitting  back with renewed vigour
for they have everything to loose

and their only tool is our fear

today is winter solstice
we had the first fire
now the days grow longer the sun stronger

a new turn in the spiraling of time
old stories – new stories
one day we all will be the ancestors.