During the 1980s, I was in my 20s. That time I was a lover boy. I went for top class women of the day. My approach to women is different from that of other men. If I loved a woman whole-heartedly, I would approach the woman with a lot of respect and if she looked into my eyes she would see tears of love welling-up in my eyes. A woman needs respect, honour and true love.
By the way some ways and formulae to charm a woman were taught to us by elders through rites of passage ceremonies organised for young boys transitioning into adulthood. I still have vivid memories of the ceremony I attended when I was sixteen years old. Boys of my age were taken out of the village for a month and we were taught how to become real men of substance. Among many other lessons of life, the adults would teach us how to relate well with women when the right time to marry comes. Most teachings were centred on how to care for one’s wife and keep her happy all the time. We were told that we must be able to tell humorous stories to the loved one and that making your partner laugh is key to a strong relationship. We were taught how to avoid unnecessary misunderstandings with one’s partner. A man, we were told, must take time to know his woman’s needs and wants. Every day before one goes for work, he ought to greet and ask for his wife’s health and do the same in the evening when he comes back from work.
We were also taught to have one partner and to build faith and trust in the partnership. The elders emphasized that a man ought not to shout at or beat his wife. If there are some disagreements in the family, the only person who could be asked to mediate is the aunt. The curriculum extended to the use of herbs like mugondorosi, tsombori, chikaribekande, musekesa, musunganyama, chirochemakudo and muvhee to improve stamina and sexual prowess. This boys’ traditional initiation ceremony is called komba or kurubha in Chewa.
I personally learned a lot; It was a well-designed process of initiating young boys into adulthood. The end of the ceremony would be marked by celebrations. A big party would be organised at one of the homesteads. Village elders would come and congratulate young graduates for becoming of age. Singing, drumming and dancing were part of the ceremony. Plenty of food including a potent drink called chikokiyana beer would be served and people would enjoy themselves all night. From that day on, each one of us would be responsible for his character. These were nights to remember.
In the same way, girls were also separated from others and went through similar rituals in the Chinamwari ceremony. Boys and girls were taught to have one life partner in a life time. Cheating was not supposed to be tolerated.
After graduating one would be allowed to have one permanent girlfriend. There were restrictions and guidelines. You were not expected to indulge in sex until marriage. Failure to live by those guidelines would lead to your ostracisation by the community and you would live the life of an outcast.
After completing the rites of passage into manhood, I looked forward to having a blissful relationship with my would-be wife. However, my experience with black ladies I was involved with turned out very differently. The relationships tended to follow the same trend. Their love is very hot during the first days and as the days, months or years go by, their love becomes weaker and weaker by the day. That respect, the sparkling smile and that togetherness all die a natural death. The women end up not putting effort into the affair and for that reason, the affair slowly dies.
By comparison I have discovered that the love of non-African ladies increases each and every day. They will show you one face throughout your love journey. They treasure a lifetime commitment more than anything else. Their commitment is based on love to the man they call husband.
I grew up in an African setting which I can discuss eloquently without any exaggerations. Many African women believe in dominance over husband through the use of African magic (mupfuhwira). They believe that a man must be given a concoction of herbs for him to love only his wife. Once you start believing that only magic works, then one tends to lose their true compass of genuine love. It would be good if a woman uses mupfuhwira and adds more love to their partner. However, the reality is that women who do that start treating their men as objects they own and control.
My experience with my first wife in the early 80s was based on lies and dishonesty. On many occasions when we had small issues in the house, my wife would pack her bags and leave the matrimonial home for her family. I wouldn’t object, and would let her do her wish. A few days after her departure, I would hear someone calling my name outside the house and, in most cases, this would happen at midnight. I would peep through the window to see who was calling but I would realise that there was no one calling me. Immediately, I would feel my heart throbbing. I would then immediately remove my pyjamas, dress up quickly and start walking from Warren Park 1 to Mufakose. In those days I had serious money issues, so I could not afford the five cents required for public transport.
I would arrive in Mufakose around 1: 30 am and would find my wife awake listening to music from a Tempest radio. This kind of scenario happened several times until one day my mother visited me from Norton to tell me that I should not risk my life walking to Mufakose at midnight. She was scared that one day I might lose my life.
One day I used public transport. On the way I saw a woman wearing a red dress similar to my wife’s. I instructed the driver to stop and I ran towards the woman, only to find that it was not my wife. My ordeal ended when one day I decided to hang out at Terrescane Hotel. At around 10 pm a group of young ladies entered the nightclub. Amongst this group was my wife. I was shocked to see her because I didn’t know that she would go out clubbing at night. She was equally shocked to see me because she never expected to meet me there. She called me out of the night club and told me that our relationship had to end that day.
I had another relationship with a woman from Chitungwiza, who was so evil that I ended up asking whether she was worth my commitment. As our love blossomed, I learned that her grandmother was a witchdoctor. Several times I tried to extricate myself from her but my efforts were in vain. I would tell her that our love was over but I would feel some very strong urge to bring her back. She made me do many crazy things. For instance, I would phone her uncle in Chitungwiza and he would say she had gone to Chegutu. I would then jump into my car and follow her to Chegutu. On reaching Chegutu, I would be told she had left for Mhondoro. I would then follow her to Mhondoro, only to be told that she has gone back to Chitungwiza.
At one time I nearly lost my life, when I and a friend of mine, Kenny Munemo, were involved in a serious accident. Kenny Munemo used to be Oliver Mutukudzi’s backing vocalist in the original Black Spirits before Picky Kasamba joined the group. We were driving from Chegutu to Mhondoro. At that time the road was a dust road and it started raining. The road became slippery on Chegutu’s red soils. I lost control of the Sunny box car I was driving at between 70 and 100 km per hour. The car overturned, rolled three times and was extensively damaged. Good luck the engine kept idling. When we reached Mhondoro I was told she had gone back to Chitungwiza.
At another time I arranged with her relatives in Mhondoro to expect us to come and pay lobola. We all agreed on the date, day and month. I did my thorough preparations because I didn’t want to disappoint. On the appointed date we drove to Mhondoro with my Munyai and friends. When we reached the village, no one was there to welcome us. All doors were locked. We waited for many hours until it started getting dark. When we realised that no one was meeting us, we drove back to Harare.
I was later informed by her aunt that she was not supposed to marry because her parents had given her to a gobblin in marriage (mukadzi wechikwambo). I was surprised to find out that she was never bothered about what had happened and I decided to run away with my precious life. It was then that I appreciated why traditionally people were encouraged to marry those they thoroughly knew (kuroorana vematongo). The Harare fast-track relationships have many loopholes and so many problems in terms of stability
I’m easily affected by mupfuhwira because I genuinely love. If there is any addition, it becomes an overdose which I cannot control. I asked that woman to set me free for I knew that what was happening was not normal. I begged her aunt to set me free from mental capture. When the aunt agreed to set me free from this horrible spell, I was delighted. My relationship with the lady finally ended.
My third partner was a very beautiful woman but her mother was a witch. Her mother told me that she went to church because she wanted to be rescued from eleven demons which followed her. At first I didn’t take it seriously. I soon understood what she meant. She (my girlfriend’s mother) started showing her true colours when she connived with a lawyer called Mutasa to change the ownership of a flat I had bought to rent out to students who were coming to learn in Zimbabwe. During that time the education system in Zimbabwe was second to none. The flat which was at Corner Leopold Takawira and Baines Street was called Nantwich Court. It was a very beautiful flat with 24 tenants.
I was taken to court for refusing to surrender the flat to my girlfriend, who at that time had started going out with Mutasa, the lawyer. Mutasa influenced the presiding magistrate to visit the flat. The parents of the lady started threatening me with bodily harm if I didn’t accept that the flat was their daughters’. The lady’s father used to phone me twice every day threatening me with death despite the fact that Jenaguru Arts Centre had bought the flat before I met his daughter. The Nantwich Court was turned into a brothel where parties were frequently thrown.
The magistrate took sides with Mutasa and my lawyer also started persuading me to let go the flat. I was granted a court order not to enter the flat nor to remove any furniture from there. The flat was fully furnished. After realizing that I was losing my property, I secretly sold the flat to a guy who was working in Zambia who bought it for his mother. That was the beginning of many problems I have experienced in my life. A big fight has been going on ever since. The family have been trying to make me mad. They have failed because I have been praying to God.
There are birds which they said would follow me wherever I go. They said these birds would fight me. My girlfriend left her son who is now 21 years old in my custody when the boy was just three years old. The boy is now only left with one year to finish his studies at the University of Zimbabwe.
I have vowed to never again fall in love with any of the beautiful African ladies. The choice is mine. God gave me the power to choose my direction in life with respect to friends, hobbies and preferences. Since I made that decision, I have been enjoying my life without any suspicion of being turned into a zombie or robot. Life is so precious that there is no time to waste.