zimdependence
Happy Zimbabwean Independence Day! Or Zimdependence if you’re a real one!
It is such a weird thing to say “happy we-are-no-longer-colonised day”. I know the emphasis is on our freedom and not what we were freed from, but still, it’s strange. You already know I can’t talk about freedom without thinking about our fellow humans who are still victims to the same oppressor, Free Palestine.
Zimbabwe is now 44 years old, she’s a child. That’s 26 years younger than Denzel Washington, one year older than Kim Kardashian and one month older than Rishi Sunak. As in the world had learnt about “Jolene” from Dolly Parton, and had been taken to “Boogie Wonderland” by Earth Wind and Fire before Zimbabwe, as we know her today, was born. When I put the timeline into perspective, it’s crazy! My mother was born in a country that doesn’t exist anymore (thank God), Rhodesia, the name for the British colonial territory which is now recognised as two countries, Zimbabwe and Zambia. The name Rhodesia comes from the coloniser (and politician) Cecil Rhodes. I only know tiny fragments of Zimbabwe’s history and I want to know more, but I know that thirst for knowledge comes from an insecurity of mine.
Zimbabwe is Home but it hasn’t been a home for me before. When I think of Zimbabwe, I have this beautiful rose-tinted slideshow of memories that play from my summer visits in 2007 and 2013. Running around with my cousins, trying out the fast food chains I'd never heard of before, learning about the sting of red ants the hard way because my trousers were full of them after spending too long climbing my Gogo’s (grandmother’s) lemon tree. Watching my mum turn into her seventeen year-old self the moment she’s around her older siblings, making friends with every child my age, trying to remember the names and faces of all the relatives who hosted us. Driving through the safari, watching baboons swing over the pool at the resort, the sting of smoke in my eyes forcing me to walk away from the fire but remaining still because I’d rather die than miss out on stories. Even as a child I had something to prove, I didn’t want to be different, I didn’t want to be the British one.
There is this story that my mum loves to tell me from when I first visited Zim with my family. We had a tourist-y part to our visit where we stayed at the Kingdom Hotel and went to Mosi-oa-Tunya (also known as Victoria Falls, a more “chill” symptom of colonialism, everything gets renamed to honour the coloniser’s home). We also went on a river boat trip but before we got on board, there were these four men in traditional dress who were part of the entertainment and they were dancing. Legend has it that I got up, danced with them and started twirling about saying “I’m an African princess”. I don’t fully remember this moment but I do remember the feeling, I was so excited to be a part of something, and I know that I still chase that feeling today.
I tried to find a pic of my family in Zim but everything is in “home video” form so here’s a pic of us on our way to Zim instead!
With the way that this British Government likes to play with people’s lives, I always joke with my friends and family that I’ll happily move to Zimbabwe at the drop of a hat, but the sad truth is, I’d probably have less of a culture shock moving to France than back home because I am so westernised. I am the British one, born and raised, luv xx. England has shaped me and there is no denying that, as much as I try to in certain situations. If I moved to Zimbabwe I would be a square peg in a round hole, not to suggest that it would better or worse, it would just be different. I know I put effort into learning about Zimbabwe’s history to try and make up for the lack of lived experience there. The Zim-pride is strong, it just makes me sad that I don’t have much outside of my family to hold onto when it comes to my Zimbabwean-ness. When I add up the fact that my shona (one of the languages in Zim) is very choppy, I don’t love the cuisine as much as i’d like to (the rice and braai’s are undefeated though) and my passport needs renewing, it’s so easy for me to feel disconnected. Hitting the books and tuning into the articles makes me feel like I’m in the loop, like I’ve earned my place. But at the end of the day, my DNA is all of the certification I need (plus when I'm in the club and the amapiano is hitting… yeah it’s VERY clear that I’m a Zimba haha.)
It breaks my heart to look at the news in Zimbabwe and hear of children being abducted, the unstable economy has pushed people out of homes and nations are still trying to scramble for our natural resources. The current state of the nation is bleak and as always, the hope is with the people because the government has proven to be unreliable. We have incredible innovators and formidable artists among us, to mention a few: actor and writer Danai Gurira, young animator Preston Mutanga, musician Rachel Chinouriri and young inventor McHenry. I know Hollywood loves the funny black friend trope but Zimbabwean people are natural comedians, I’m splitting my sides at any time I’m a part of a normal conversation with Zimbabwean people. I love running into Zimbabwean women when I’m out and we make the mutual decision that we are now sisters for life. We have a rich ancient history and potential for an abundant future, one I hope to see soon.
To my fellow Zimbas, I hope that Zimbabwe feels like home for you too and if you’re not Zimbabwean... sucks to be youuuuuuuuuuuu! Just kidding, it’s all love as always!
Speak soon!
If you’re feeling festive, here’s a playlist of my fave zim tunes, be warned, its a real mixed bag vibe wise, but enjoy the ride! Xx
