I’ll admit I went to see Sandra Ndebele’s show at HIFA because the description included: This show contains some nudity. My interest was not nudity (tho I don’t mind seeing naked male or female bodies, particularly if artful and/or exuding pride). More I was thinking my interest was the crowd – who was there, as well as how they reacted. There were lots of men. Lots of cell phones taking pictures. Heads shaking. Laughing. Sure, the show spurred controversy, as I understand is often the case with Sandra Ndebele. Some feel she uses nudity and sexual appeal as a marketing gimmick. That she’s using shock value to seek attention which may result in further objectifying women. She disputes this, saying quite the opposite. As the program indicates, her intent is to “revitalise and preserve cultural traditions and empower young African women through culture.”

In this case, controversy seems a good thing, gives pause for thought. Early on in the show, my interests shifted from the crowd to the importance of understanding the details of women’s lives in the past. Not women’s lives only as mothers or wives, but the ways women shared and passed down knowledge within their communities. Women’s lives in and of themselves were dynamic, full of emotion and intelligence as well as love and support for each other. Thinking along these lines made me more fully realise that the show may have contained nudity, but the content of the show was not nudity. Rather, the content – a nice blend of seriousness and humour – is a story with multiple messages.

I see no reason to provide a summary of the story. Instead, I’d say the story conveys and advocates in ways beyond restating the plot. The story is about recapturing history; rather I should say herstory. To look back in time and see as well as celebrate that the herstory of women is not one of oppression only. This is not to say oppression didn’t exist in the past. But, women of yesteryear were vibrant. And brave. Sandra Ndebele seems particularly interested in capturing the vibrancy of the clothes women wore; that these clothes had meanings and were symbols of prestige, even power. Herein lies the present day controversy: The clothes. Sexy gimmick? Or something far more insightful? I say more power to Sandra Ndebele and the 20 women in the show. What they did is proudly present both a call and an avenue to better understand not only histories, but also herstories.

She was so badly beaten across her breasts that they swelled for days and later pus accumulated inside them. She had to visit the hospital everyday for almost a week to get the pus squeezed out. Jane* had committed the “serious crime” of participating in a demonstration to demand that the voices of ordinary Zimbabweans be included in the SADC mediated talks.

Little Trish may well go down in the annals of this country as among the youngest individuals ever to be arrested by the Zimbabwe Republic Police (ZRP). Only 3 months old and with only two nappies at hand, she and her mother were illegally detained for four days in prison. Learning of this cruelty through the media, well-wishers donated some nappies but the police decided Trish had no right to clean diapers and kept them away.

This is what life has typically become for members of Women of Zimbabwe Arise (WOZA – meaning “come forward”). Illegal detentions, assault, death threats, physical and mental torture, humiliating and degrading treatment, you name it. Anything to break the spirit of these human rights defenders who’ve succeeded in becoming a nuisance to state agents while fighting for the rights of all of us.

These women are often incarcerated in extremely bad conditions where they are deliberately crowded into police cells designed for much smaller numbers. The cells are filthy, containing human excrement, fleas and lice. The blankets – if provided – are in the same condition. The toilet normally doesn’t flush and the women are denied sanitary pads.

In detention they also undergo degrading treatment like being forced to remove underwear – a particular fetish for some police officers. They are tortured through falanga – beating the feet soles of their feet, or are made to stand for long periods with bent knees (known as air chairs).

WOZA has thus just released a damning report: The Effects of Fighting Repression with Love that documents the nature and extent of violence experienced by WOZA at the hands of repressive state apparatus (police, army, and intelligence).

According to Wozani Moyo of Zimbabwe Lawyers for Human Rights, “The targeted abuse at WOZA is systematic and meant to weaken democratic movement in the country.” It is also meant to intimidate and deter them from participating in further civic action.

But WOZA women are determined. They have persevered in spite of recurrent harassment and mistreatment. They withstand the pain and are prepared to suffer anytime for the sake of a brighter future for their children, and to stand up for their rights. According to WOZA, this is “tough love” which is an appropriate response to the crisis in Zimbabwe and a cause to apply pressure upon the Zimbabwe government through peaceful protest.

The report not only seeks to document abuses against WOZA women; it also aims to bring to the attention of Zimbabweans and the international community at large their bravery in trying to make a difference.

With a membership of over 55 000, WOZA continue on their journey to demand freedom chanting slogans like Strike A Woman, Strike A Rock!

*Not her real name

In the past three days, three different people have told me the experiences of three different friends of theirs who have been sexually abused in the past few months. A 16 year old girl raped by her uncle who lives next door. A 19 year old woman raped by a neighbour. A twelve year old girl molested by her own teacher.

The angry bitter jaded part of myself wonders why I’m so surprised. In February, UNICEF announced that child rape has increased by 42% in the past three years – largely due to an increase in family and social tensions thanks to Zimbabwe’s economic meltdown. According to Dr. Festo Kavishe, UNICEF’s chief representative in Zimbabwe, social workers report that adults unable to provide normal care, food and schooling vent their anger on children.

To combat this, UNICEF has launched the Stand Up Speak Out campaign, aimed at raising awareness of all forms of child abuse, the damage caused, how child abuse can be prevented, and importantly where to get help. But these places to get help are also struggling to cope up with the economic collapse.

In past years, Childline had as many as 45,000 people phoning into their help line each year. But this number is dropping – not, clearly, because the need for the service is any less than it has been in the past. Rather, people are losing faith in the systems meant to assist them, and so aren’t bothering to ask for help. Across the country, the social welfare offices are understaffed, stretched too thin, and unable to manage their caseloads. Bulawayo has been without a government social worker since November, so cases just aren’t being attended to at all. When the magistrates were on strike, of course, the backlog just grew. Support organisations like Childline are trying to make up the difference, by assisting with transport and brining case workers to clients, but they are also underfunded and there is only so much a largely volunteer staff can do. And more than that, for how long should non governmental organisations do the work an elected government is sworn to do – that of ensuring and protecting the rights of all of its citizens, regardless of economic difficulties.

International Women’s Day (IWD) has just come and gone and after the fanfare, we are left to reflect more somberly on the issues still confronting us as women. In reflecting on our collective situation, l have decided to take a very different and very personal look at issues affecting women in Zimbabwe. Very often as activists there is the temptation to quote oft quoted statistics, to repeat phrases and slogans that while true, are now trite. Their over-use has somewhat desensitised people to the very important issues that we are confronted with. In most instances, we have removed the human face from the statistics and made them just numbers that we trot out. This IWD is especially important to me because a little later on in the month we are going to the polls to hopefully vote our next batch of leaders into power. I am sharing my story as a challenge to my fellow activists in civil society and to these would be leaders. To my fellow activists, the question is a simple one – are you asking the right questions of your friends who are running for political office? To the would be leaders; what are you going to do to address the problems that women face because they are women? For the full article please visit this link

Over my many years walking, running and cycling the streets of Harare, one unfortunate, recurring theme of my experience has been men’s harassment of women, including myself. In struggling to find ways to deal with the often daily comments, stares, whispers and shouts, I’ve used a variety of tactics. Sometimes I ignore. Sometimes I try and rationalise. Sometimes I engage. But often, often, I think about what I, or anyone, could possibly do, to make it all stop.

A friend of mine and I sometimes discuss WWW: Women With Weapons. A few years ago, cycling to work and back every day, I had a recurring fantasy that my bike was kitted out with a bayonet in the front, and flame throwers out the spokes of my wheels. Pity the poor bloke who made some nasty comment at me, I’d think. He’d be a lesson to all other men. And then maybe, just maybe, eventually, the heckling would stop.

Of course, I know violence isn’t the answer. And I know that if part of what I resent about men’s harassment of women is the ways in which they generalise all women into the category “vagina” and treat them all as a potential fuck, then I also shouldn’t generalise all men as potential harassers.

For a much more constructive and thoughtful approach to issues of gender violence and harassment of women, visit our current eactivism campaign. It discusses the potential of the Vagina Vote for our upcoming elections in Zimbabwe. This is “the belief that a new paradigm can manifest itself in a political as well as spiritual form. It is the decision to ask those running for office as well as those already in office to make ending violence against girls and women a priority.”

Certainly that’s a much more level headed take on the whole thing. But something in my gut resonates much more closely with this poem from the Rape volume of Agenda’s Gender Based Violence Trilogy – Issue 74, 2007.

My vagina wants an Uzi
My vagina is tired of explaining why it needs one
My vagina is ready for the armed (vagina) struggle
My vagina is not my father’s kraal, or anyone’s for that matter
My vagina has its own culture “vagina friendly culture” VFC
VFC = no means no
VFC = justice before the law
VFC = I wear what I want and I walk where I want and I say what I feel, when I feel it

My vagina wants a world where it decides when and how and with whom
My vagina does not want a cock
No man’s cock
Ever
My vagina is a lesbian
My vagina is clear about that

My vagina is tired of being angry and afraid and sad
My vagina is sad more deeply than indigo, the colour of a vivid bruise, the colour of dried blood, the colour of women and children broken on the altar of culture

My vagina wants to be free
My vagina wants an Uzi

- Larissa Klazinga

Not that I have anything against these commemorative days of this and that. I’m sure that, somewhere along the line, increased media attention raises awareness, and makes at least a few people think differently, at least for a little while. But as International Women’s Day approaches on 8 March, I’ve been flipping through the Rape volume of Agenda’s Gender Based Violence Trilogy – Issue 74, 2007. The poem below really stood out for me. How far do our efforts at advocacy and information really go? How do we better ensure that our media campaigns and good intentions can effectively encounter day to day experiences and exposure that tell a very different story. Otherwise, what will our boys – and girls – grow up to think, say and do?

The nice bits

4 15 years old girls walk by in a restaurant
hair scrapped and plastered
smooth, upright bodies
not a kink or a wrinkle
giggle driven with flushed cheeks
little girlhoods sprouting breasts

‘ooh 15 year olds’ says a table sitting says 47 year old male
‘nah they have nice bits but nothing upstairs’ says father 49
pupils slither along the neck line
‘good to look at though’
middle age spread with white teeth chortling

7 year old son looks and laughs
collapses into a cell phone
wide eyes flickering left right left
and I wonder
what will he be?

- Jane Caroline