Being black and a woman in Africa

Being Black and A Woman.

Written Amanda Marufu

1. Being Black

What does it mean to be black? A few years back I wrote a poem called shame on this topic. 

What does it mean to be black?

To be so overridden with hate of self? 

The state, the pain, the lack of self. 

Is it just another way to be enslaved?

See Africans we fake at pride

We laugh at slogans like black lives matter. 

Think we are so morally above the shame. 

Yet we chase the fame, that paved this game?

Our generation, we are not the same.

Pure voices conquered the bleachers and the fakers. 

Singing black is beautiful. 

Then honey why do you indulge the paint?

See there is beauty in our flaws

The tainted messes, the hearts, the racist.

 The sadist, the teacher, all sun kissed creases

But there is no pride in our silence.

We are no heroes when we are afraid. 

With bullet holes bought from social media

And social fame bought with our soul freedom. 

Call it vanity, but we are a black out masterpiece.

Me, my beauty is skin deep

But i am not more than my skin

I am my skin; i am the jewel of Africa. The symbol of pride, love, of freedom. 

The roar of Simba, modelled after the heavens and I shine.

So why do the words on this paper, question the draft of my own sanity. 

Why do we accept the version we’re sold with no thoughts and no clarity

We ignore the gravity of this war

We ignore the gravity of our silence.

For with blood we fought for freedom

But with shame we’ve lost our mental right to be free.

Growing up I didn’t know I was black. Everyone around me was black and despite having multiracial cousins, it wasn’t something anyone talked about. I never knew it as “being different” or even having different skin tones until I went to high school.

 It happened almost automatically, all the black people on one end and the white kids on the other. 

My first friend was one of the few people who for the first few weeks was part of an interracial friendship. Then the bullying started on both ends. The black kids weren’t happy about it, calling her too white;” a coconut”. The white kids told her best friend that she was too black. Imagine that; being too much of yourself. So much, that you found someone who liked you exactly the way you were. 

Then I started realising that it went even deeper than that. Within the white cliques, the Afrikaner students didn’t talk to the British students. Then in our own little kingdom, there were these concepts of colourism and accents. The better English you spoke the more intelligent people thought you were; the more you could be regarded as of a” higher class.”

 What shocked me was as far as I could tell no one even taught us these things, but as plain as day people were too ashamed to speak in Shona because they would seem ’less cool.’ Yet when the white kids spoke in Shona or sang/played some of the local music, like Zim-dancehall, it was regarded as amazing; even praised as being cool and fun. They were experiencing a culture we weren’t allowed to be proud of, in fear of being too black. 

It amazed, sometimes confused, me how these culture paradigms worked. We often learn about how colonization happened so long ago and yet we remain with the consequences today. I was raised to fear n’angas (traditional healers) and svikiros (spirit mediums), yet I’m constantly surrounded tv representations of magic. When it’s done black people it’s called Voodoo and yet when done on tv it’s light magic. 

The racism in my country is subtle, almost invisible. It’s easy to ignore it and claim we don’t need campaigns like black lives matter because we aren’t facing the immediate threat of a white man holding a gun to our heads. But our oppressor has been shown in different ways. Our oppressor comes in the form of the white saviour. 

During a long talk with my best friend we talked about the fallacy that is helping people who never asked for or needed your help. Yet they continue to come anyway. 

They come and tell us our religions and traditions are evil and then go and practice them as if they are new discoveries. When asked about the very God they forced on us they now claim “he doesn’t exist”. They come and tell us how we require permanent structures and force us not to be nomadic; and then they go on to have summer houses and travel to avoid the cold weather.

There’s so much about being a black person that’s been shrouded in shame that we silently accept and even continue to up hold instinctively. We’ve started to think less of ourselves and to expect what’s done a white person to just be better, of better quality or more intelligent. This is done constantly through the media, entertainment, radio and tv. Subconscious Racism. The smartest way to keep us enslaved.

2. Being black and a woman 

Due to the financial situation in Zimbabwe, I wasn’t able to continue with my education. I was sad for a long time. Sometimes even now although I’ve grown and become successful in my own right, I still am sad. 

One of the things that annoyed me was the ‘consolation’ of, “it’s okay, If all else fails you can always get married.” This is quite a common thing that young women I talk to find relatable. Their parents expect it, even encourage it. Marriage is the ultimate goal. 

I remember sitting in the kitchen and often hearing.  “You don’t like doing chores, manje who will marry you?”, “The way you don’t like to cook, better hope you meet a white man.” 

There was never the expectation that maybe marriage wasn’t one of my aspirations or that maybe my life could amount to more than marriage.

Now don’t get me wrong my family is full of badass women who have done so much and so well in their lives. From becoming doctors, to becoming the very first black female president of her company. The women in my family work hard and they excel. But above and beyond all that, they are expected to come back home and submit to a man. We are taught not to make him feel belittled our success and that he still must hold the power. It is the right thing to do both biblically and traditionally. 

So, some people didn’t understand why I was so bummed out about this school thing. Why I was over ambitious and trying to do so much when all my worries could easily be fixed having a ba and a husband. Yet it’s not that simple. Many people have taken away our right to education justifying it with statements like “we don’t need it” or “We aren’t the providers”. After all, we have the option not to work so why not take it. 

Sub-Saharan Africa has the highest percentage of single mothers worldwide, at 32%. This is before we account for the high divorce rate of over 55%; and then there’s the risk of becoming a widow. What happens then? Then came the other question: what if you just don’t want to get married? Is that even a possibility?

“Here is what we have to understand about your male counterparts. While we may fake orgasms, they fake finances.

—Suze Orman”

A lot changed for me when I heard this;

I was like what?? 


Preach to me some more!! 

In the past few years, I’ve heard so many of the horror stories. Husband handles all the finances and then suddenly dies and the husband’s family takes everything. The kids and the wife are left with nothing. 

Wife does all the work but the house and everything else is put in the man’s name to respect him as the man of the house. Then turns out husband is sleeping with the maid and is calling her the woman of the house. Now the woman is stuck working to feed and facilitate her children’s and her man’s children’s educations with wife number two because the house is in his name and she has nowhere to go. 

It’s insanity! 

For me my reasoning was born of trauma. As a child borne of divorce with a father that never raised me. As a woman who has been raped and abused, physically, emotionally, mentally and sexually, there was no way I was going to ever put my financial trust in another human other than myself. Yet without an education and being a woman, my chances of success where even harder. 

“Statistics do no account for the full person.” 

If I told you my story and I told you that I fell into drugs or became a stripper or even ended up committing suicide (which I tried before), many people wouldn’t be surprised. Sometimes we have all reasons to live and survive stripped from us. I often felt like an alien in my own body and even in my community. I felt like an alien when trying to figure out my sexuality. When trying to fight for the right to speak out about my trauma and even simply just finding the space to breathe and live in a world without fear. It’s 2020 and I still flinch when I’m alone and I see a man walking done the streets. I still run if I see a man walking towards me because even though the mind forgives, the body never forgets. Yet I’m alive and I’m living. 

I’m working to counter the effects of media that tells us that we are not enough. Working to create more platforms that let us know that we can aspire to be more than a wife. I’m living proof of black women in power. CEO of three tech and media companies. Creating and leveraging resources for women and young children to help spread access to education.

I am black

I am woman

I am pansexual 

I am more than a statistic

I exist. 

A Liberating New Years Eve

Spending Christmas alone was nothing new for me. After years of tears and Christmas afternoons turned Christmas night crying, I much preferred to be alone. Once Christmas passed then there was New Year. I can’t say I haven’t had great New Year memories but I’ve had a lot of alone New Year memories too but this was a whole new low or so I thought.

Although I talk about the outcome in my book, ‘At What Age Does My Body Belong To Me?’ coming January 26 2021. What I didn’t mention was how I ended up in that situation. 

It was New Years Eve and as usual as the rest of the family went to the farm, Whilst, I opted to spend my time alone at home. Home was safe and home was a welcome reprieve. 

I was talking to some friends over app and they insisted that I shouldn’t have to spend the night alone. Let’s all go out and have fun they said. 

The beginning of the night was great. They even came to pick me up as we all congregated for pre-drinks at my friends house. There was loud music blaring and drinks being poured every other second and although I don’t quite know how the decision was made soon there was plans for hitting H2O.  Ps: If you’re young and my age. Remember H2O? 

Finally! Finally, I get to party my way into the new year I kept jeering to myself. 

As we all piled into the taxi, he mentioned again that we all had to pay for the entrance and he would take care of the taxi and I checked my pockets for the money to make sure for the hundredth time that night that it was indeed there. 

Once we arrived, it was the usual hustle and bustle from excited, drunk teens. Everyone was moving, dancing, screaming and just making noise and once again I was excited. 

As we approached the doors everyone started to go in and then I noticed that the money was no longer in my pockets. I emptied my pockets and started frantically searching starting to panic. 

I pulled my friends hand before he could go in and tried to explain the situation to him.

“But I told you, you had to cover the entrance fee.” he was shouting over the blaring music.

“I know, I know, I think someone stole it. I swear it was just in my pocket just now.” I screamed, still frantically searching.

He paused for a second looking in my eye before saying, “alright wait here, I’ll get one of the organizers then come and get you.” 

I nodded for okay and moved to the side to let the rest of the people in. I kept touching my pocket. Cursing myself out for not having put it in the safest pockets of all. My boobs. 

I grabbed my phone and started texting other people who were here now embarrassed to just be standing idly the door.

A lot of promises were made with other friends insisting they would come out to get me shortly and before I knew it an hour had passed and it was almost time for the count down. 

Some people were starting to come outside from the bar and I was slowly watching my phone battery begin to drain with panic in my eyes. 

I had no money and everyone seemed too occupied to answer the phone or help so I was stuck there watching the happy and excited faces of everyone else around me.

As my phone battery dwindled. I heard everyone around me begin the count down.






“Happy New Year!”

As fireworks erupted and everyone around me screamed I couldn’t help but feel a tear run down my cheek. Would this punctuate how the year would be for me? 

Standing alone in a parking lot with no way to get home? 

I started walking up and down the village walk. Stuck in between my need to break down and cry and my constant persistence of looking at the bright side. 

After another hour had passed I found myself once again standing outside H20 when I heard a voice from behind me. 

”Hey, I know you, you’re friends with (insert friends name here) right?”

”Yeah,” I replied, relieved for a familiar face, ”You seen him or anyone else that we were with?”

”Yeah they left soon after the countdown. There’s a festival thing happening. I can take you there if you want.”

”Yes, please.” I said excited for my first glimpse of good luck. ”Can I charge my phone in your car?”

”Sure, ” he said, ”let me just get the rest of my crew then we can go.”

After a few minutes he was back with some very drunk friends. I told them all what had happened which gave them entertainment and they promised to take me home, if we couldn’t track down my friends. 

I manged to get my phone on 1% to call them but their phones were now off and mine was refusing to charge so I was just relieved I had a ride home. 

Once we reached the festival, I started to hear more change of plans. There was another party and there were more people and suffice to say, no friends, no money and no phone and I found myself in a strangers house.

And now for an excerpt borrowed directly from the book:

This guy seemed nice enough at first. Said I could sleep over until the morning when I could go home or my friends came back, even offered me the bed and said he would sleep in the lounge. After some time, everyone slowly passed out and I was alone in a bed. Now I can hear the haters saying what were you thinking? 

Honestly, I don’t know. 

It was either trying to find my way home in the dark with no money and a phone that had no battery or here. 

After almost an hour, this guy was suddenly sneaking into the room.

“I’m not gonna touch you,” he said, “it’s just a bit cold out there.”

I almost laughed at how ridiculous that sounded but whatever right, he could sleep and I could sleep. 

After a while he started with the slide of his hand, treading a little too close to my body and I pushed it away. He pretended to shift like he was fast asleep and an all too familiar thought started to creep in.

I sat up, “can we talk?” 

“Sure,” he said.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” he replied feigning ignorance.

“Don’t touch me, you touch me again and I’m going to hurt you.”

He chuckled and coughed a little,

“I didn’t mean anything it, it’s just a little fun, you know.”

“I’m serious,’ I answered in a stern voice.

“Okay, just wanted us to warm each other up,” he replied.

I shifted further away from him and went back to sleep. Another while passed with no movement and I thought maybe just maybe he had gotten the message. 

But of course, he tried again. Starting with the shifting, he stretched his arm out and I shouted out a loud, “No!” 

I was beyond pissed off now. 

I knew he would try again and surprise, surprise he did.

I could feel him stretch his arm out and as soon as he did, I turned and I bit him right in the arm as hard as I could until I could taste blood and swung my leg at his balls.

“What the fuck, bitch!” He screamed as he jumped out of the bed.

“I told you not to fucking touch me!” 

I stood on the bed ready to fight him, “I told you.”

I was really shouting now, ‘I fucking told you!’ 

“So that made you fucking bite me?” he answered walking backwards towards the door.

“You try to touch me and I will kill you, I dare you to try me.”

“You’re a fucking psycho he said,” as he banged the door and I could hear him swear under his breath.

I ran towards the door and locked it. Then started searching for something I could use to hit him with if he tried to come back.

I know it sounds crazy now but I was done. Done with being taken advantage of, done having men think they have a right to my body. 

I was angry and I was done and for the first time in my life I was ready to kill anyone who tried to touch me without my consent ever again.

He never came back and later my friend would tell me that now the guys were scared of me. Said I couldn’t handle a little fun.

I told them that they couldn’t handle a no and therefore didn’t deserve to have a little fun. I could no longer allow myself to be silenced.

I was still angry at the friends who never came and insisted, they had tried to find me but I had also learnt that asking for help wasn’t a license to my body. 

As I walked back home the next day, I still had no money. I was felt a strange type of happiness in my chest. It was another new year’s that I had spent alone but it was liberating to finally accept my right to say no and my willingness to fight if anyone ever challenged it. 

I don’t know what’s coming for me this end of year but I do know I’m grateful for everything 2020 has brought even the sad and hard moments had lessons so I would love to say to everyone. Merry Christmas and I hope your New Year’s Eve isn’t quite as eventful as mine. 

Love from Amanda Tayte-Tait

My Body, My Choice: The Truth Behind Birth Control, Abortions, and Miscarriages

‘I support the right to choose. Because no one can tell me what to do with my body. Nobody can tell me the cells that may one day be a human is more important than my life right now.’ Anonymous

While in many countries around the world abortion laws are a topic constantly in debate. In Africa and many countries like Zimbabwe legalized abortion and the right to choose is not yet a topic of conversation and neither is Women’s Health but shouldn’t it?

In Zimbabwe, ‘’Government estimates indicate that more than 80,000 illegal abortions happen every year, resulting in around 20,000 maternal deaths. In 2017, Ministry of Health and Child Care official Dr. Bernard Madzima estimated that illegal abortions caused 16% of maternal deaths, half of whom were adolescents.’’

When you look at the stats it’s scary to find out just how many people are going through this process alone in hidden corners because they have nowhere safe to turn to and more than that how little research has gone into safe labor.

‘Zimbabwe has one of the highest maternal mortality ratios in the world, estimated at 651 maternal deaths per 100,000 live births. In contrast to a worldwide trend of declines, maternal mortality has increased in Zimbabwe over the past 25 years.’

And why might women choose to get an abortion? One woman said, ‘’A lot goes into pregnancy. Finances. Living arrangements. Future schooling. Careers. Etc. your life has to be solid to have a healthy pregnancy and not be stressed to the max and you’re still going to be stress’’

Looking at the issue of Abortions some might be quick to look at the young generation and think that abortion and sex itself has become a trend or rather that there is a lack of education about the use of birth control and the options available, but looking deeper into this issue I discovered that Birth Control and its dangers come with misconceptions of their own.

‘According to the National Cancer Institute, there is mixed evidence that hormonal contraceptives may increase the risk of breast and cervical cancer but reduce the risk of endometrial, ovarian, and colorectal cancers.

The hormones in birth control, including progesterone and estrogen, may stimulate the growth of some types of cancer cells and reduce the risk of others developing.’

26 studies also indicated that Birth Control can also cause blood clots. Blood clots increase a person’s risk of a stroke and heart attack. People who smoke may be especially at risk for developing blood clots when using birth control pills.

Post @Kimanami on Facebook

It is important to note that most women do not have any side effects to the birth control pill but that these risks do exist and it’s important to learn what your body reacts to and what it doesn’t and more importantly knowing what your body needs.

As part of this article I talked to several women who have experienced abortions, miscarriages and giving birth and I noticed one common trend around the world there is a need for more research and better treatment in hospitals. 

Not only are women being given birth control without any prior discussion of what to expect but women are also faced with a lack of information when it comes to giving birth safely, their rights to choose and the risks they face when giving birth, and even aftercare for when they have given birth. 

Women are left to face things like perineal tearing (vagina tearing) with no idea how to take care of their wounds or how to take care of their bodies. 

One woman I talked to shared her story below:

‘So I have polycystic ovarian syndrome. Meaning I get cysts on my ovaries that mess with my hormone levels. Thus making getting pregnant and carrying to term extremely difficult and highly unlikely without costly fertility treatments.

When I was married to my ex-husband we found out I was pregnant on July 6th, 2016. On July 8th I went to the hospital for vaginal bleeding but no pain. There the doctor did an ultrasound and said my body was having a spontaneous abortion, the medical term for a miscarriage. They told me to come back in two days for repeat blood work to make sure my hcg levels were decreasing as they should and to enjoy the rest of my day. I had just lost the ground beneath my feet and was told to have a good day.

After the doctor left the nurse walked me down the halls and through the lob of pregnant women all happy and healthy with their big round bellies and I was forced to wait in the lob while I cried for a nurse to draw my blood in the lab to start a base line for my hcg levels. Not only was it embarrassing but I was so angry at these women I didn’t know for having what I had lost.

Two days later July 10th. I went back for my repeat blood work. That morning I had woken up with a weird cramp in my upper left thigh. Almost like I had worked out and was sore. Gradually through the day this pain increased and moved into my lower abdomen and groin area. By the time I got to the lab at the hospital I couldn’t walk I was in so much pain. The lab tech there called the ER to have someone come get me and admit me. They did more tests and more ultrasounds and still said “you’re having a miscarriage. Here’s something for the pain.” After hours of no relief a doctor finally came in and said they saw a small cyst on my right ovary and he believed that accompanied with the miscarriage was the source of my pain. He decided to do an exploratory laparotomy, basically go in through my belly button with a camera and look around, and drain the cyst.

Turns out I had a tubal, or ectopic, pregnancy in my left Fallopian tube. They barely caught it in time before the tube burst which would result in a partial hysterectomy and make another natural pregnancy near impossible.

Based on my labs they had said I was 3/4 weeks pregnant. I was closer to 8-10. It was a very traumatic experience. Which led me not to go to the doctor when I found out I was pregnant again. I didn’t want to go in right away and be told I was pregnant only to lose my ba a week later and go through that emotional trauma again. So I waited.

Two weeks later and lots of positive pregnancy tests I started bleeding. Two weeks later no more positive pregnancy tests and I was on my period. The losses eventually led to the end of my marriage as he wanted “a real wife and family”.

In October of 2017 I was recently divorced and partying it up. Like crazy white girl partying. I was dumb. I was late. The guy was an alcoholic and didn’t want to be a dad. I figured there was no way I was pregnant with my issues and if I was I’d lose the ba so it didn’t matter. We just put it to the back of our minds basically.

Well. Day before thanksgiving I’m sick as a dog and go to the doctor. I’m pregnant. And the ba was healthy. And I had a son in July of 2018. I went through a pregnancy alone. With no job. No stable income or living. No partner to share my burden. And extremely stressed. But I had a son. And he’s perfect in every way. He’s had his issues. And my pregnancy was hell. I had hyperemesis gravadarium. Meaning my morning sickness was so bad and all day long my body didn’t have time to process nutrients. I lost fifty pounds while pregnant. Then because my uterus is tilted my ba grew to my right side and crushed my right ureter, the tube connecting kidney to bladder to drain, and put me in stage one kidney failure.

I was offered a medical abortion at 20 weeks. I refused. I had six surgeries while pregnant. I had to be induced a week early to avoid a seventh. During the induction my sons heart rate dropped into the 80s and I had an emergency csection. At 2am on the dot of July 29th, 2018 I had a 4 pound 9 ounce 17.75 inches long ba. He was smaller than a teddy bear but healthy. And alive. And had all the right parts. He didn’t even have a cleft palate birth defect like I did.

He’ll be turning one soon. My fiancé has been in his life since the beginning and two months ago we found out we were pregnant. We’d only known for two weeks and hadn’t even told anyone when I started bleeding. We went to the hospital where I waited in tears in the lob for 3 hours before being called in to triage. I waited another 2 hours before I had a room in private. I was given an ultrasound and sat in a hospital room. Where I waited. And waited. For an hour. For some young doctor to walk in shake my hand and my fiancé’s look at us and say the pregnancy isn’t viable and you’re having a miscarriage. I’m sorry. I’ll have a nurse bring your discharge papers and out the door he went.

The health care field is extremely overlooking when it comes to women and to early pregnancies. They just don’t care. and it’s pathetic and wrong for a doctor to turn away when a patient needs them. It’s wrong for a mother to wait for hours knowing her child is gone just for a doctor to shrug and open and close his mouth like a fish when asked why, why her ba.’’

If you’re thinking this story isn’t common, it’s more common than you think, ‘For women who know they’re pregnant, about 10 to 15 in 100 pregnancies (10 to 15 percent) end in miscarriage. Most miscarriages happen in the first trimester before the 12th week of pregnancy. Miscarriage in the second trimester (between 13 and 19 weeks) happens in 1 to 5 in 100 (1 to 5 percent) pregnancies.’

With miscarriages, still births and maternal deaths occurring at this rate coupled with the fact that the scientific world has yet to perfect safe birth control in a world where thousands are poured into sex, shouldn’t we be more concerned? And shouldnt we be talking about this more? 

Although you might be thinking that these three topics are seemingly unrelated one common thread stands. More needs to be done to protect women, their bodies and their lives. 

By Amanda Marufu

Being Of The Sun

For those who didn’t know her Rae was this amazing poet, with astounding talent and this gift with words that left you filled with awe every single time, for those that knew her Rae was crazy! She was this experience, like you didn’t just talk to Rae, you experienced all the drama and the extra ness and like each time you were about to see her, you had to brace yourself because you never knew how it would end.

Me and Rae had perhaps the most complicated relationship and friendship of all time in that it came with so many ups and downs and times when we couldn’t see eye to eye and at times couldn’t even stand being in the same space but still somehow remained friends despite it all.

And it’s crazy how the very last time we hung out, she called it love, she said she saw love in the lights and the way the sky shone into my blue hair and nothing was more true than the fact that we were pieces of each other, we are all pieces of each other and we leave these little pieces of each other every single time we interact and even in all the fights, (about boys) and all the tears we shed over the growing pains of being an African woman we were these little pieces just growing together.

When we lost her, and I say we because getting that news was like seeing this fading, pulsating film where everyone had something to say and everyone spoke of her like she was their own, it was like feeling the world stop, like everything within me was fighting against this news because it couldn’t be true, she wasn’t the sort of person to just disappear, she loved the attention and you would hear people who would speak of her, like she was ‘the nicest person I’ve ever met,’ and she wasn’t, she was mean as hell and in every word that I heard from people all I could remember was how sad she was, and how lonely she felt every single day, so lonely that she continued to find solace in the arms of a man that she knew could never love her and that, that was the most painful part of watching her loss.

‘It’s so sad how so many women are taking Xanax and sipping on Chardonnay and are numbing themselves just enough to survive in the way they’ve been told should make them happy but are miserable inside.’ Jaden

See we sat down at the beginning of this year and we set out to conquer the world and we had all these big plans of what we were gonna do and we shared the common belief of being a voice for the women in our generation and at every turn life kept throwing these curve balls. She told me that after she almost died, the first time she was no longer afraid of living her life, that more than ever she was just going to let herself shine because she no longer had anything to lose but even at Hifa as we celebrated, she sat down and drank down her tears because she had still never felt love from the people who called themselves her own and she didn’t feel love from the strangers who only knew how to clap their hands when she spoke, because see I would never have dared call her my best friend because when I look back now we were these crumbled pieces of a complete poem that were only discovering how to live within ourselves and could not discover how live within anyone else.

And when we talk of legacy’s and we talk of how Rae should be remembered I think the one thing I can truly share with all the people that we knew, that knew and loved her is to begin to live! Not on social media and not for the cameras but truly stop long enough to see each other, stop this quest of chasing bottles only to numb the pain of being alive and to survive until the next dose can come but truly live and start to enjoy these moments because this is all we get and this is all we have, tomorrow may never come and for her it didn’t.

She wanted to be surrounded people but so often we’ve only truly been around each other when we talk about where to get the next $ to go to the next function so we can drink just one more time and smoke just one more grade that has to be better than the last one.

She wanted to change the world and to be an activist of what truly mattered, to speak of drugs and speak of abuse and speak of the pain we all hide behind these thin veiled masks we are so happy to carry around because then we never have to ask each other how we are doing, we never have to speak about the pain we feel at home, if we’ve even had a meal that day, if our parents love us, if that guy who was talking to you took things a little bit too far. We are the generation who speak about having voices and having all these platforms to share them but we are also the generation that’s scared of our emotions so much so we are only too happy to pretend that we have none!

See Rae was from the sun and she was a child of the planet yellow but so often than not she laid her head in the darkness seeping tears of sorrow, drown from the shallow pits of grey.

If we are to live in her memory then we have to truly embrace the sun and all it’s light and for the first time, talk to each other and love, for we can’t only lay love upon the dying flowers of our tomb.

As for the one from the sun

May she sleep with the angels as I’m sure she’ll teach them a thing or two

Important lessons I learnt from Zee World!

Before you click away, I promise this isn’t what you think it is. I’m not going to talk about my favorite shows or the singing and the dancing but rather the important lessons you can learn as a creative from the Zee World Empire.

Last night I was invited to the first content showcase from ZeeWorld in Zimbabwe and despite the great food the night came along with some great lessons when it comes to building an Entertainment Empire of your own.

  1. Do your research!

Did you know that there are over 80 Zee World Channels around the world? Yes beyond just that one channel you have seen there are 80 more in different languages and Zee World African and Pacific Asia CEO contributes their success to doing their research when developing their strategy for every country.

2. What works in one audience won’t work for the next

When it comes to broadcasting what we see here in Zimbabwe isn’t the same feed that’s being broadcasted in Nigeria and why is that?  Because Zee World has seen what other companies are yet to master.

How we relate to content is different from region to region, even though we are all African our cultures and the way we relate still differ. 

So although we all get to watch the same series or show. The feed is edited to fit directly into the audience they are showing it too and you too should keep your audience in mind when you are creating your piece of content.

3. Content is King

Video is taking over the world and that’s exactly how they have managed to take over the world, with over 100 hours hours of fresh content being created everyday! 

We’ve all watched DSTV and scrolled and couldn’t find anything new to watch and this is something that this Indian Company has taken into account being the first to bring 5 hours of fresh content on their channel 7 days a week

Which is a something we can all learn it can and should be done, keep on creating!

4. Africa is the land of opportunity

As the CEO rightly put and as Akon also said a few years back, Africa is the ripe with opportunities 

There’s is a huge content gap on our continent that only we can fill up and although South Africa and Nigeria have been creating and building in recent years as Zimbabwe we are still far behind. 

Zee World being proud of their culture they have been able to take the Indian story and the Indian cultures all over the world bridging the gap between religion, tradition and cultures still being able to still be relatable and entertaining and that is a step that we as content creators need to take.

As Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie warned in her speech of the dangers of the dangers of only having one single story, it is up to us to tell our story.

5. You can’t be what you can not see

Just as Bollywood has taken their culture to the world showing that no matter your ethnicity and where you’re from you too can achieve your dreams. They have even taken it a step further launching a Bollywood show featuring African actors, we too need to reflect the same for our youth so that they can see that they too can achieve whatever they want to achieve and we need to show our youth different reflections of who they are and most importantly who they can be.

6. Team work makes the dream work

There’s a saying that Rome wasn’t built in a day but the point I would like to highlight even more is that Rome wasn’t built one person either.

As much as we all have dreams remember that an industry isn’t built one entity and that we all need to work together to get where we want to be.

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Featured: 4uxion

Its true 2018 has left us with a lot to desire when it to comes to, well just about everything but one area it did not disappoint in was music!

Do you guys remember this guy?

Well Perido has gone straight from the streets to the studio featuring on 4uxions Lost Ep on the track Victim.

If you haven’t heard it yet this is a hip-hop EP that is truly full of Soul and whilst 4 himself describes Perido as a rapper that kills the killer, one can’t ignore the immense talent that is shown in this young man, self-managed and an ever-growing producer, some of the best production I’ve heard coming from a young artist, 4uxion is a talent we ought to look out for!

4’s name 4uxion means integration because he composes different sounds and matches them all into one beat or one tape. His name became shortened fellow rappers who called him 4 which was ironic since his teachers used to call him 4 eyes because he wore glasses.

4 says, ‘My inspiration to the Lost EP comes from my everyday life here in Zinbabwe and how I see myself as a symbol of hope.

Im ALONE in working for RETIREMENT knowing that I’m NEXT but people wanna make me a VICTIM DZIMWE NGUVA asi still I live. & because I’m here to be a painkiller for my people, they can KEEP TALKING what’s on their minds, it’s okay.

I dont wish to rule anyone but to make us all blossom. We all want to help one another…cuz we are LOST.’

If like me you’re a fan, you can also find his music on APPLE MUSIC, Spotify, Tidal and Deezer

If like me you’re crazy about his beats you can contact him at

And hit him up through these social media accounts: Facebook|Twitter|Instagram

YouTube : 4uxion Beatz

Mini Beat Stores

Featured: KayGee40

So coming up first on my featured list, is an artist who’s striving to come first in every aspect of his career. Originally from the streets of Mutare, KayGee40 is not only inspiring to take over the music industry with his Afro-Soul sound but is the first Zim artist to drop a unisex fragrance range named after his trending single, Sterek.

It seems only fitting that his new single dropping this Friday the 21st of September is called Tora Mari, The song featuring Dj Shugeta and Nyasha Timbe is all about the grind and making money in this industry whilst also having fun of course because when the beat hits you can’t help but want to dance.

The man himself says, “This is a hustler’s song and most importantly a dance song. Tora Mari (get money) rise up and stop complaining and make things happen. If you don’t noone will make this happen for you. Its time we make things happen.”

With a unique African beat and hiphop twist the song highlights the hardwork the artist embodies in his daily life. Aiming to make sure this innovation in business does not only stop with him he also teaches music in schools since finishing the study of Ethnomusicology.

“It’s good to finally say that our music has reached another level in terms of quality and the producers are all Zimbabweans for that matter even music videos are now on the same level with those world over. My only worry is the income. Musicians must be able to live off music royalties, shows and endorsements just to name a few. We need people to invest more in our arts. I wish the government sees how music can push Zimbabwe in terms of Tourism. Look at Jamaica, they tried it and it worked.”

Ready to hear more, you can find him at if you didnt know the number 40 represents completeness!