All Pretty Girls Have Secrets

---Fiona once told me all pretty girls have secrets. I did not believe her then but the world has since opened my eyes to this truth---

 

Back in Natal during my undergraduate days, carefree and sunshine filled days- long before money and jobs became a pressing priority; Makhabo would fling the door to my room open at any time of day. Sometimes she would come in, throw a shrewd comment or two regarding the state of my room and then she would be out, other days she would come in and sit for hours while we talked about critical issues of the world and then sometimes she would waltz in as though she owned that space, sit in complete silence and we would remain in that, just basking in one another’s ambiance. You know how the saying goes… “True friends are those that you can sit in comfortable silence with and still have the best conversations” or something along these lines.

Makhabo and I

Anyway. During these ‘stroll into Deedee’s room and check up on her’ encounters Makhabo would come in at whatever random time she pleased, drag me out of bed and then proceed to say something along the lines of “Ao chehe, batho ba ka khotsa motho ha e le mots’eare ba bona e le ausi ea hantle ea itlhokometseng, ba sa tsebe malabulabu eo a robalang ka ona”  and then she would continue to grill me on my choices of night time wear “But Deedee my friend, hantle uena anything you come across and find comfortable to sleep in, vele you do so? Ke’ore every night I come in here and you are in yet another shocking piece of garment that I would never think to sleep in…” Well, precisely. Comfort is the absolute standard for me. 

Then there were days when she would sit in the shower with me or follow me to my room after I’d just showered and there it would come again “Deedee!!! Na ausi ea motle tje a ko tlohella baselapa hore e be tabohe ho fihlella boemong boo?A a kannete, make a plan my friend, there is no way I am allowing you to use leranthana lena again” And for that I had no genuine excuse except maybe laziness and denial that my beloved wash cloth was no more than just a piece of string- what I thought was ‘not that bad’ a tear, turned out to be beyond use in the eyes my Boobie.

The point I am making with this entry is that the prettiest and most organized people do the ugliest things. In my case it turns out - I was a lady in the streets but a literal freak in the sheets – as I was sleeping in rags and going on to use bath towels until they were beyond recognizable. For others, their ugly may be a bit more severe than this. I refer mainly to women. Embarrassing as this is for me to admit, women are the most conniving, most calculating and manipulative kind I know. Many are not afraid to use their vulnerability, their looks and in very many cases- their bodies to get what they want. It’s when the odds turn against them that they call out foul play.

I personally have heard stories from wealthy men claiming that the most beautiful women came from what seems like nowhere to seduce them and consequently consented to coitus with them only to cry rape the next morning and threaten to press charges should they not fork out ridiculous sums of money. It turns out most of them abide 1) For the sake of their reputation; 2) To maintain a harmonious state in their families.But what they do not realize is that their compliance to this madness perpetuates more of the same.

I also know of and have spoken to women who see nothing wrong with making such claims, women too obsessed with the materials of the world to understand the ruthlessness of their actions. These are women who take pride in admitting that blackmailing wealthy men is indeed the new prostitution. I mean the way I see it, such drastic measures should be just as great an offense as rape is. These kinds of women close all avenues that lead to the realization of just how socially ailed our society is.

Because of such actions, little girls, grown women and our elderly are raped every single day but remain silent for the fear that they, like these trifling concubines will be accused of settling scores. Too many women live through and tolerate physical and emotional abuse because they feel afraid to be judged in the same category as these tricks who are out here, digging for gold.

This saddens me deeply. For one, I hold immense hope that one day women will be free from insecurities that bind their social and financial progression. I have faith in the psychological emancipation of all Afrikan women as it is my belief that the reason they turn to such ugly means of acquiring their basic needs is due to the fact that they feel trapped, undermined and possibly sidelined. I want for them to reach a point where using a man for a little profit sounds as disgusting to them as it really is. I wish for women to unite and force away ills that continue to represent them as worthless damsels who are only good for milking men for their worth.  

PS: I don’t know whether the case of Zwelinzima Vavi’s accuser stands true. I do not want to involve myself too much around this case, however- it is when the media sensationalizes these accusations that we are forced to wonder where our dignity as Afrikans lies. Are we really content with having to debate these matters behind closed classroom and auditorium doors or on media forums and leaving it at that? Should we not return to the basis of which these kinds of issues stem from, educate and liberate our women? Shouldn’t we focus on teaching our men not to succumb to such allegations through payouts? President Zuma walked free from similar charges. Should Vavi walk free wont the next man and the next man and the next one after that also walk free? What happens when they all walk free? The sincerity behind every rape claim becomes questionable, and any woman who cries sexual, physical or emotional abuse will always be likened to the boy who cried wolf.

Until next post,

Africa Rising, Peace & Revolution...