Being a Woman in Africa

By Ruth Pink

Rosewitta is born somewhere in Africa, to a large but poor family. Her mother Hattie, and the rest of the family struggle to survive on a daily basis; in a society laden with certain cultural beliefs and imbalances. As Rosewitta's life story unfolds, the realities about women's lives in such an environment also unfold. But how do the women survive? How do they raise very large families? Does anyone recognize what these women do? Are attitudes towards them changing? At the end does Rosewitta succeed in her search for a better life? What happens to all those women whom she represents?
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It is a very moving story portraying some of the sad realities that Zimbabwean women face. .. Many will shed a tear as I did whilst reading it.- Dr Mercy Nyawanza

A very good story line .. with an unexpected ending. Monilola Ogundare (University of Hertfordshire law graduate)

An intense and gripping read......... it brought tears to my eyes. - blog follower on ruthpink.blogspot.com

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Sep 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491879580

Ruth Pink

RUTH PINK was born in Zimbabwe. She has a keen interest in politics and stays current with as much as she can through reading and personal involvement. She lives with her husband, Paul, in Hatfield, Hertfordshire, England.

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2013 by Ruth Pink. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 09/27/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4918-7957-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-9814-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-7958-0 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I give all the thanks and glory to God, for loving me and for moulding me into the person I am today. I am the clay, and you are the potter; I am the work of your hand.

I would also like to thank the following people and organisations who have travelled with me on this journey:

To my husband Paul: for your love and support.

To Simbiso Naomi: for your marketing skills. There are a lot of Hatties, Rosewittas, Hannahs and Mias out there.

To all my family members: thank you, I love you all.

To Reverend C.H. Chiromo of Emmanuel Baptist Church, Harare, Zimbabwe: thank you for your guidance, and encouragement. You’ve been a great inspiration.

To the Emmanuel Baptist Church community, Harare, Zimbabwe: you gave me the platform to grow. Thank you. (HE is before all things, and in him all things hold together.)

To Terry Pink and family: you have been there for me every step of the way.

To NVWP Director Agrena Mushonga: thanks for the words of encouragement. I will stay in touch.

To Dr Mercy Nyawanza and Monilola Ogundare: thanks for proof-reading this book. I value your comments.

Thanks to the New Voices Wagon Project (NVWP) based in Leicester, England, for equipping me with further skills.

To Anna Mudoti: thank you for your insightful comments, and for always covering my back.

To Caleb: thanks for pushing me this time round, your words linger in my mind.

To Lovemore, Ona, Muna, Tiffa, Enock and Rutendo—thank you guys, you rock.

Thanks to all the people (far too many to mention) who have had a positive influence on my life.

To my blog followers worldwide, on ruthpink.blogspot.com: Thank you. I value your time, your every click, and your comments.

And to the readers: none of this would have been possible without you. Thank you.

DEDICATION

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This book is dedicated to my father Elias,

and my mother, Luciah

CHAPTER 1

R osewitta had just celebrated her 18th birthday. That year it fell on a Friday and was uneventful as usual; no one had remembered it, not even her father, Majozi, or her mother, Hattie. The family did not buy birthday presents, as there were more pressing things to spend their money on. The only holiday when the family expected any form of celebration was Christmas, which was marked by preparing a feast and slaughtering a goat or two, if resources allowed.

Rosewitta had only a few months left before sitting for her final ‘A’ level examinations. Schools had closed for the break. No one had ever thought she would get that far with her education. She had broken family tradition; no female in her immediate or extended family had ever gone further than primary education. Not even her mother. Neighbours in her village had developed a ‘wait and see’ attitude. For generations her extended family had never been associated with any form of success, so everyone in the village was waiting to see whether Rosewitta would achieve something and be different from the rest of the family.

At the comprehensive boarding school Rosewitta was now attending, she had met a darkish and stocky textbook salesman called John Bello. John liked her very much; in fact he adored her, and did not hide the fact that he had fallen head over heels for her. He had told Rosewitta that he loved her and promised to visit her during the school break at her parents’ place. Only he had remembered her birthday and had promised to bring her presents. Rosewitta looked forward to seeing John, as he seemed to fill the void that she had felt all her life.

Meeting John would be special. Rosewitta was so excited at the prospect of seeing him once again, and she felt an electric sensation moving through her body whenever she thought about him. She knew she liked him, and never in her life had she felt like this about a man.

Was this what they called ‘coming of age’? Had she found Mr Right, the one who would marry her and take her out of her miserable cycle? Rosewitta’s life hadn’t been that easy. Maybe this was her breakthrough. She smiled at the thought, rubbing her hands expectantly and jumping into the air with excitement. She could not wait for dawn the following morning.

During the night Rosewitta kept tossing and turning on the reed mat that she slept on. The home-made pillow made from stuffed rugs smelled of damp and was uncomfortable, but it served its purpose of propping her head up. She woke up several times in the middle of the night, thinking it was already dawn and wondering what John would bring.

Rosewitta shared the room with her younger sisters, Melissa and Rhona. They also shared a thin blanket, the only one they had to cover themselves with during the night. Melissa was a bed wetter, so the blanket smelled of urine, which did not make things any better. Perhaps when her and John Bello got married, they would own a comfortable bed, with clean bed linen, Rosewitta thought.

Rosewitta and her sisters had slept on that hard floor all their life, except when she went to boarding school. Her parents and the boys in the family were the only ones who slept on some form of proper bed. The mosquitoes did not bite, but chewed on Rosewitta’s bare arms, and this did not help the situation either. Perhaps it was fate that she had met this man.

Rosewitta had planned to go to the local shops to meet John Bello on the Saturday. She had told Hattie, her mother, and Majozi, her father, about John’s pending visit.

You have to invite that man here, Rosewitta! Hattie had said to her in a husky voice. "I have been in this world long enough, and I need to see this man, mbune, to make my own judgment."

But, mother, how can this man come here? You know I cannot invite John to this embarrassing home. Where will he sit? On those ageing sofas? No, mother, no! Rosewitta became hysterical, throwing everything that she had in her hands up in the air. At the top of her voice, she told Hattie and Majozi that she was now adult enough to make her own decisions. "I know that you don’t want me to marry a man of my choice, and want me to marry into that house of hunger. It’s about Madzibaba Moses, isn’t it?"

Hattie sighed heavily in disbelief when she heard her daughter’s response. Rosewitta had never shouted to her parents before, and Hattie thought she had taught her daughters to be respectful and not to answer back to adults. Both Hattie and Majozi were shocked by her reaction. Their little innocent girl had changed, which they put down to the bad influence of being educated. Hattie and Majozi had had barely any education themselves, and in their minds, if Rosewitta had not gone to Santa Maria school, she would be a domesticated woman by now. Those urban schools were no good, and taught domesticated African girls bad behaviour. Rosewitta had not been brought up like that, and she seemed to have picked it up from the other pupils. Hattie was not happy. A well brought up African girl would never consider answering back to her parents. In any case, Majozi and Hattie had made a commitment to Madzibaba Moses regarding Rosewitta.

"My gut feeling tells me not to trust this man, even though I haven’t met him. You should not go anywhere,