Lessons Worth Learning…

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Let me start with a disclaimer LOL.

I love my mother……but I will not pretend like the rest of you do that I am best friends with her. She’s just mama – not a pal, not a BFF, not a friend but just mama LOL.

Anyway, growing up, my mother taught me a lot of valuable things – lessons that were mostly practical and delivered through the use of dangerous body damaging apparatus such as my father’s leather belt, sticks and sometimes whatever was near her that she could throw at me at the time. My mother was a professional at all kinds of lessons that required torture, however, she forgot to teach me the biggest lesson of them all, Under No Circumstances Shall Thou Spit At Random Dudes, especially those hanging around the taxi ranks! I shall never forgive my mother for this oversight…..the tiny shreds of my dignity were completely made a bonfire out of as a result of this unfortunate incident.

 

“He massacred my ass  right in the middle of the shopping district. I ran like the wind towards my mother’s office with my 6 inch heels held firmly in my hands. I mean, what better place to seek sanctuary than in the arms of the woman who gave birth to me? Big mistake! He ran like a tornado and chased me right past the uniformed doorman and the revolving doors whilst still trying to kick my ass with his size 10 clad feet (who knew that men could multi-task? lol). With this random boy still in hot pursuit, I bumped into mama in the reception lobby and my mother being the strong Black woman that she is, decided to take charge of the situation. By taking charge of the situation, my mother wanted to know a) Why I was 20 minutes late for our appointment b) Why I was charging into her office shoeless and out of breathe and c) Why an obviously crazy airtime selling boy was chasing me. But the opportunity to address the situation was completely taken away from me, I did not have the chance to answer because airtime selling boy had already uttered, Ma…..I do not know this girl but can you imagine that she spat right in my face…..like I was common filth! Can you imagine that Ma? “

 

I cannot begin to describe to you what took place after those words escaped the mouth of airtime-selling boy. All I can say is that Hell hath no fury like a woman whose daughter just spat at a random stranger! She domestic-violenced my ass, right there in the reception lobby and in full view of the underpaid receptionist who had on a hairstyle she could barely afford on her wages and was clearly being sugar-daddied  by one of the senior management. It was in full view of the doorman and his weather chapped hands  that had roughed from years of opening doors for management, who were clearly not disabled but were deemed too educated to be carrying out trivia such as opening doors for themselves! For a very brief moment, mama turned to airtime-selling boy and said in her boardroom authority, Mwanangu, let me handle this…….There and then, she took off her high heels, placed her handbag on the floor and proceeded to wallop me in an expert and effortless fashion, not giving a damn about the people who had started to gather.

 

I danced the 2-step with my feet yo-yoing on the ground like I was stepping on hot coal whilst my mother was working in her expert fashion on me. The doorman tried to come to my rescue but almost got his weather chapped hands amputated by mama’s high heels which were landing on different parts of my body in quick successive fashion. I could smell death…..even the plea’s from the underpaid receptionist  were not deterring my mother from disciplining me in full public view. Next thing I knew the doorman was down on his knees, hands held high as if in surrender and crying out to my mother, Ma……please stop! She has had enough. She has learnt her lesson now. Please stop now Ma….My mother went in a bit longer and after she was satisfied the tiny shreds of dignity I had left had been completely made extinct, she ordered me to her office. I swear I could hear my mother offering the airtime-selling boy $10 for the indignity I had him suffer, which the boy unashamedly accepted! I can honestly say that was the best or worst beating of my life….depending on who you were interviewing, my mother or I.

 

Rewind 15 minutes earlier.

You see, I had met airtime-selling boy outside the taxi/bus rank as I was on my way to my mother’s office. OK. It is true that I had spat right at him, in his face  and this is exactly how I had done it – I had looked him right in the eye and had spat at him with all the force that I could fathom! But I can explain because I see you all getting judgmental……Airtime selling boy had asked for it! The boy had literally begged me to do it! As a matter of fact, his exact words had been, If you don’t fancy me like I fancy you, then spit in my face and I will know that you mean it and I won’t ever bother you when I see you get off the kombi (mini-bus). Obviously me being the obedient child that I was taught to be in Sunday School, was not comfortable with his demand but airtime-selling boy had insisted! He had even started to follow me to my mother’s office and I was pleading with him not to, as I would get in trouble with mama if she saw me with a random dude who sells airtime at the bus and taxi rank but no, the boy had insisted. Spit in my face and I will leave you alone……..Spit in m………I didn’t wait for him to finish his sentence, I turned around, looked him right in the eye and dutifully obliged!

 

Fast-forward 3 seconds later….

He massacred my ass  right in the middle of the shopping district. I ran like the wind towards my mother’s office with my 6 inch heels held firmly in my hands.

 

So, lessons learnt!

I woke up missing my mother so much so dedicated to do a throwback post to some of the classic moments we all laugh about now. I say I am nothing but my mother’s child and that is because I am. I would not change a thing about my childhood or her…..for whatever she did was in the hopes that I would mature to the amazing woman that I am today. And in case you were wondering……I WAS NOT ABUSED as a child you guys and my mother is definitely my closest friend!

Happy Monday y’all!

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Home-Made Porn……Under The Influence!

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The best porn is live porn.

Me and Belinda are no longer friends. In fact, to be grammatically precise, Belinda and I are no longer friends and if you ask me, it was completely her fault LOL.  It was a good idea at first, as good as any idea formulated after a few bottles of cheap alcohol could be (actually, let me just ask…how much is a bottle of Lambrini where you stay?). It was very generous of me as her best friend to offer some practical support, for what good is emotional support in times of crisis? On consulting the Friendship Manual, my practical support extended to medical slash free porn slash a shoulder-to-lean-on kinda support – which I have happy to give by the way, for what use was I as a friend if I couldn’t provide these? All I wanted was to be there for my best friend in her time of need, the same way she had been for me over our many years of friendship.

 

I remember the day so well, Belinda and I were having a serious heart-to-heart (such a terrible, terrible idea considering how both of us were heavily under the influence of so many units of alcohol but then again, it was Belinda’s fault for starting the conversation). She said that her new boyfriend made freakish, downright strange noises during sex which sounded alien and they totally freaked her out. Concerned, I asked her exactly what she meant as my worry was already sky-high at this point. You see, my friend’s sexual well-being was just as important to me as it was to her especially with sex being such a determining factor in a relationship, I just wanted her to be getting the very best of it; so I felt it was my duty as a best friend to get to the very bottom of this problem. Still concerned, I asked Belinda if she could imitate these sounds but with her being such a bad actress, I had to ask her to stop. Anyway, still heavily under the influence, she said, wait a minute, I have a brilliant idea…….next time that we are having sex, why don’t you come and watch!?  Not exactly sure what Belinda meant, I asked how this supposedly brilliant idea was supposed to work and she was like, well, you know how I like to have sex in the dark, right? I replied Ah-Huh and she went on to say, OK……I will call him to come over right now and I will leave the door slightly ajar so that you can listen on and give me your honest opinion. I nodded eagerly, too drunk for words at this point to use common sense and the more bizarre the idea got, the more interested I became.

Let me just disclaim here real quick: I am not a pervert or a freak or a sexual deviant or anything of that sort, I was just really, really, really concerned about my best friend’s sexual being. For example, if she thought she was sexing an undercover alien, it was my duty as a best friend to allay or confirm her fears, right? After all, that is what friends are supposed to do……to be there for each other in sickness, turnup and alien sex, right? (I know y’all know I’m right LOL). Anyway, an hour later, Belinda’s boyfriend was on his way to her house and Belinda made me creep into her dark wardrobe, leaving the door slightly ajar so that I wouldn’t miss any of the Star Wars sound effects hehe.

 

I think I waited uncomfortably in the wardrobe for about 45 minutes to an hour or so for the show to begin. I was wedged between coats that had seen better days and shoes that smelled so bad, my immune system was actually slowly but very surely shutting down just from the smell. It was the most uncomfortable squatting position ever but as a good and loyal friend, I dutifully remained in squat position, numb with a cramp in my left leg, fervently praying that after this ordeal, my leg wouldn’t need to be amputated due to circulation cut off. 

Fast-Forward 10 Minutes Later….She over-performed  cause she knew I was there, he in turn underperformed because he wasn’t aware of their wardrobe audience. From the bumps, thumps and window rattling moves coming from the bed, I just knew I was in for a show to rival any porn movie ever made! 20 seconds later, the sounds began, Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiii eh eh eh eh eish eish eish  siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii maihwe yuwiiii yuwiiii siiiiiii ah ah ah. I thought hmmm, TF those sounds sounding like an owl hooting but I quickly realised that the sounds were actually coming from the bed, maybe the guy had been trying to recite the alphabet backwards but fuck mhani, them sounds were even worse than the Star Wars soundtrack! From all the Eh Eh Eh’s emanating from the bed at one point, I actually thought Belinda and her 103 kg body were trying to send the dude to an early grave, he sounded like he was gasping for air, choking in pain and not in pleasure. I thought of doing a Super-woman rescue from the wardrobe just in case this had become an emergency situation which needed immediate resuscitation but a muted Don’t Stop from the guy assured me that he delighted in that sort of thing so I didn’t move, I continued in my squatting position.

 

After a few more Yuwiii’s and eh eh eh’s and the final curtain call, I realised that I had a brand new dilemma, how the fuck was I going to exit the wardrobe if alien guy decided to spend the night? My supposed best friend had completely forgotten about me and I was starting to get really uncomfortable in the damn wardrobe! I was also realised that a trip to the hospital to get my left leg amputated due to circulation cut off was fast becoming a reality. I tried to shift around and switch position but that was so difficult considering how I was trapped in a closet full of smelly shoes and God knows what else. It also didn’t help that the alcohol was starting to wear off and I was starting to feel really sick so I debated the worst – to vomit on Belinda’s smelly  shoes or to make an exit from my hiding place and then have a lot of explaining to Mr Alien sounds but I didn’t have to wonder for long, that decision was completely taken away from me. I am not too sure what exactly took place……..if Belinda and I were still friends, maybe she would have clarified the correct version of events…….But I do remember something brushing against my neck, it must have been a coat or a belt or a scarf but my intoxicated mind immediately thought Black Mamba!! I let out a blood curdling scream and tumbled out of the wardrobe! I think I heard someone from the bed call out, Who the fuck is that…but I can’t be exactly sure. All I know is that there was a snake in the wardrobe and that I had to abandon my squatting position pronto! I didn’t wait around to explain to Mr Alien sounds, I mean how could I? I bolted out of the wardrobe and the house, leaving Belinda with a few notes of Usher’s “These are my confessions…” to sing.

 

What happened after I never really found out. Like I said, Belinda and I are no longer friends! She phoned me a couple of times begging that I call her boyfriend, who she was now referring to as the love of her love, man of her dreams, soul-mate etc. *side note* Does anybody else think Belinda has a serious case of amnesia? I mean was it not just yesterday that she had referred to this guy as alien guy who made freakish sounds during sex and she was getting ready to dump him? Anyway, Belinda demanded that a) I call her boyfriend and b) I state that it had been all my plan and that she didn’t know that I had been hiding in the wardrobe! Now I can and will do a lot of shit of a friend, lend you £100 here and there, call in sick for you at work so that we can hit the clubs but I will not take a bullet for someone else so I flatly refused, stating that a) It had not been my fault and I hadn’t planned it and b) She damn well knew that I was in that wardrobe! Belinda wasn’t having this so she hurled a lot of abuse and I hurled my own abuse…….the phone was slammed down and that’s when I realised that Belinda and I were no longer friends. It’s been over 3 years now since this incident and I have done a lot of growing up since but sometimes I wonder what I was ever doing being an extra in a home-made porn movie!  I also live in constant fear of mama ever finding out the real reason Belinda and I are no longer friends. I guess the worst porn is live porn if you’re hiding in someone’s closet to watch it.

 

I hope the 3 people who read this blog are having an amazing week! I’m currently counting down the days to pay day……..and today it’s just 12!!!!! 

 

 

 

 

 

Sins That Almost Sent Me To An Early Grave…

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Happy New Year everyone. Long overdue but at least I have said it. Remember, it’s the thought that counts.  Anyway, several things have happened to me, some of which are life changing but too boring to blog about and some that I could blog about but at the risk of a Defamation of Character civil suit which I’d rather avoid. I was actually going to blog about recent developments in my love life….or lack thereof but since I’m still trying to make sense of that situation, I’ll leave it for my next blog post but I’m telling you, my spirit is in oneness with the nuns and all those who dedicate their lives to love of God and no other. I’ve been taught lessons for life. Anyway, I figured I’d confess my sins instead and the times mama danced dangerously on the brink of culpable homicide in an effortless fashion to get me on the straight and narrow. So here goes my 10 honest sins and their subsequent consequences. Enjoy.

 

1. My mother almost killed me for playing with a condom I had found in my brother’s bedroom. She kept screaming, ‘Show me where it goes….’ whilst beating the living daylights out of me. I became permanently scarred such that even in my adulthood, my heart is almost leaping out of my chest buying condoms in case mama jumps from behind the counter and asks for Show and Tell of where it goes!

2. I once ‘shared’ a man with my cousin as she was not convinced that a certain guy was an expert at handling a woman so I agreed to let her experience it for herself! Big mistake, sisi delivered the news to mama as soon as she arrived home from work who then proceeded to shambock us for trying to run a prostitution ring in her yard!

3. Whilst on holiday at my grandparents, I wrote a letter to my dad bitterly complaining of my grandmother’s alleged (false) cruel treatment of me. All I was hoping for was for my parents to then collect me back to the city but No, my mother decided to drive all the way from Norton to Gokwe with the letter and forced me to read it out loud in front of my grandparents and several other people. And in true domestic violence fashion, disciplined me for lying and decided to leave me in Gokwe for the during of the holiday. The treatment became accurately cruel(and not false) for the duration of that holiday.

4.  I was nearly expelled from Primary School for writing explicit letters with hand drawn pornographic images. My mother has never forgotten this and she tattooed scars all over my body with her trademark weapon of choice – shamhu yemuHabrose!

5. I once got my mother to fire a new maid because she had too many pimples on her face and I refused to eat what she cooked. My father concerned that I was not eating, got mama to fire the house girl. My mother disciplined me in my father’s absence for being shallow and turned me into the maid for the remainder of the school holidays.

6. I was once chucked out of our local church together with my cousin for being inappropriately dressed. Apparently, our skirts were just not the recommended length for a place of worship. Word obviously got back to my mother who took upon the task of clearing out our wardrobes and throwing away anything that was above the knees. In simpler terms, she left us with no clothes that were not trousers, maJuzi and school uniforms.

7. When still in Junior School, I was so ashamed of an uncle of mine (he had a long beard and had just come from the village) whom my parents had assigned the role of dropping me off at school and picking me up. So I lied to this uncle of mine that adults were not allowed on school premises and that he had to drop me just at the corner. The school then sent my mother a letter demanding to know why I was showing up at school unaccompanied as it was against school policy. My mother after questioning my uncle and realising what I had done, almost sent me to an early grave for being ashamed of my relatives.

8. Mama once made my sister and I choke on eat an entire pot of rice (nearly to death) for her entertainment (not strictly true but painfully accurate). We had gone to our neighbors house and ate our dinner there because it was chicken and rice and we were sick of the Vegetarian (Sabbath) Saturdays. When we got back home, my mother cooked a massive portion of rice and chicken for my sister and I and forced us to finish it all otherwise we would really know who she was. She still beat us up for making the neighbors think that she starved us!

9. My mother once made my cousin and I (same cousin from sharing a man and expelled from church) spend 4 hours outside our front gate in a hailstorm for dodging church and going for lunch with guys at the same Chicken Inn someone who knew her happened to be.  After being made to chill for 4 hours in the cold rain, she still walloped us for not respecting the Sabbath and keeping it holy!

10. My brother who was 7 at the time once got me at age 10 to electrocute myself on a socket claiming that it would feel nice. My mother in an effortless fashion, tattooed his behind, his face and his back screaming ‘is this nice’ over and over again. She then disciplined me for being foolish enough at 10 to listen to a 7 year old boy and almost killing myself in the process.

 

 

Now that confession time is over and it’s been made known that I have done a lot of maturing since, why not turn this into a “TAG” continuation?  The rules are simple, Tag at least 4 bloggers to do posts about random, less serious facts about themselves. It could be sins, childhood memories or the “I Bet You Didn’t Know I Could…..” kinda posts. Keep it interesting folks. I love a good read! 🙂

I’m tagging  joymandabunnyvuAmanya and Hazvinei.

 

 

P/S – I was NOT abused as a child you guys. The disclaimer is there just in case my mum ends up in prison for child neglect and on various child abuse charges allegedly committed in the 90’s LOL. Instead, I was provided with a safe, fulfilling, nurturing and loving home  which made my dreams and come true in my wildest imaginations. I thank God for my mother and I do, with all of my heart love and adore her!

 

Hope 2016 has been great for everyone so far!

** this post was edited to reflect TAGGED on 2/05/2016**

 

 

 

Boys 2 Men Definitely Didn’t Sing A Song About All Mama’s….

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I’ve never been good at keeping promises which continues to blow my mind as I can’t seem to stop making them. I know I had promised (in my head) to blog at least every week but I blame Google for making me choose a password I would have trouble remembering after a few weeks…..I also blame my mama. Speaking of which, if you were to ask me how I feel about mhamha, I’d probably rattle off the politically correct response…..she’s my best friend, on her I can always depend…..I trust her and I would probably die for her. If you were to ask me the same question whilst I was under the influence of alcohol then I might just add the vomit induced quote, “If I were to change a thing about mhamha, I wouldn’t even change a thing blah blah….” Get the drift, right? OK! All lies I tell you. First of all, before you get all judgmental up in here, let me clear off a few things about mhamha – she is not my best friend. In fact, she’s not my friend. Period! She’s just mhamha, not a pal, not a BFF but just mhamha. Before you get judgmental again, this feeling is absolutely mutual, she often screams (and this is a direct quote minus the booming voice and impending slap), ” Miss Felistas, wakuda kundijairira manje. Handisi shamwari yako…” I’ll translate as best as I can to English but that’s taking away from the impact, “Miss Felistas, don’t play with me ooh, I’m not your friend.  Play with someone your age before I tattoo that behind please…” See, it doesn’t get any more mutual than this hehe.

 

As for changing a thing about mhamha, boy, who am I kidding LOL. Trust me, if I had a chance I would (For those familiar with these TV Shows) 60 Minute Makeover/Grand Design/Home Improve my mama if I could. Gone would be the belt wielding woman who dances dangerously close to a culpable homicide charge when she tries to put you on to the straight and narrow. Believe me please, when mhamha is done with you in her effortless disciplinary fashion, you’ll be more bent and crooked than when she would have started working on you. My mother literally loves me with a vengeance LOL. My relationship with mhamha is like traveling on a budget no-frills airline. It generally does what it’s supposed to do but once a while will surprise you with a hell lot of nasty shocks, like £20 for airport check-in, £10 per bag of hand-luggage and an extra £5 for paying by Debit Card. Mhamha is sneaky like that too, you’re constantly feeling like you’ve been punk’d. At least with the budget airlines it will all be in the small print but with my mum, she makes the rules as she goes, in true fashion of an African Dictator. Nah, forget it, there is nothing remotely typical about my mama LOL.

 

As for dying for mhamha, truth be told, that’s definitely a moot point. If a weapon of mass destruction was pointed towards mhamha and I and the gun-man said, Hey, you two decide who we are kissing Es Ta La Vista baby to, I’m not too sure that I would necessarily volunteer myself for this virtuous deed. Hold on your judgment please and let me break it down – I am a loyal and loving daughter and you can call me Judas Iscariot or morbid but speaking on a real, would it not make more sense morally for mama to be the sacrificial lamb? I mean she’s in her 50’s, been there, done that, worn that T-shirt until it turned from White to Grey with age LOL. She’s had the husband, a jet-setting lifestyle, executive positions, good salary, 4 children and 4 grandchildren who all haven’t turned out half bad (yes, me included LOL) so I think it would be quite selfish of her if she refused to be the Isaac to my Abraham (any non-Christians please see me)…

 

Speaking of the one I would trust/depend on, it will only be in a life or death situation like plucking me out of a burning house or for dragging me from under a moving bus but for anything else other than that, hmmmm, she would completely betray me even without the prospect of financial gain, RE: Judas Iscariot LOL. My mother would be the first to ask the headmaster to expel you from school for indecent exposure (instead of pleading with him to let you stay in school). Never mind that the indecent exposure in question would be allowing your first junior high boyfriend a sneak peek at your budding nipple-less mini boobs during PE lol (No, that wasn’t me thankfully, it was my sister and if in doubt, check her behind for evidence scars).

 

I won’t pretend like most of you do that I am best-friends with my mother. Mimi and Sharon, my BEST FRIENDS who have no relation whatsoever to mama are the ones I tell all about my secret fantasies about men at least twice my age and how my antics during a game of Truth or Dare could have me ex-communicated with society if they ever got out in the public eye.  See, telling all these things to my BFFs has no repercussions, they would probably hoot with laughter and trade my stories with their own kinky, dirty, often bad girl ones that borderline illegal.  This is what true bestfriends do. My mother who is not my best friend would literally castrate me if I tried to confess to such abominations (but thank God she is not my BFF and I don’t have a dick )….. but she would definitely hurl me in front of the local priest so that he could baptize such demonic behavior out of me. Surely that is no best friend behaviour!

 

Did I mention that my mother also has ‘super powers’ that are able to detect the tiniest threat of sexual activity before she even sets eyes on you? Mhamha not only preaches abstinence but damn well ensures that it is practiced with the ruthlessness of an African Dictator. My mother is up there with the Hitchcocks and Mafia’s of the abstinence world. For example, mhamha hypocritically states that thighs should be reserved for the eyes of the husband but with the same mouth, she says to my sister, “What kind of a married woman wears such a thing?” The thing in this instance being some tight shorts, ironically, that my sister was wearing for a night out with her husband. Clearly, there is no pleasing some people.

 

Disclaimer
Just in case mhamha is lurking somewhere in blogshere LOL. Now mum, you know better than to believe everything you read on the internet, especially from an amateur blog that less than 5 people read. You know you and I are much closer than the 3000+ miles that separate us. I love you so much mhamha and that’s not only on Mother’s Day and on your 2 birthdays. I have dedicated this post to you because I know you will read it but mostly because you have moulded me into the person I am today. Without your guidance, I would have been nothing – a nobody. I say I am NOTHING but my mother’s child because that is all I am.

I really, really, REALLY love you mama so don’t you dare allow this blog to convince you otherwise. You’re my superwoman and Boys 2 Men Definitely sung a song about you.