Do not label people as being difficult in public

WHEN I was in Grade five my family stayed in Harare.

We came to stay in Harare at the end of second term when I was in grade four.

Prior to that, my siblings and I used to visit relatives in Harare and go back home.

I stayed in many places as a child. Travelling is a passion for me. Each time I visit a part of this country I am in awe. Zimbabwe is an amazing country endowed with much.

Strive to visit parts of the country and be enriched in terms of what you see, hear and get to experience aspects of culture that you never knew existed.

I am not here to do a tourism promotion. Just introducing my story. Anyway put it on your 2024 to do list, visit a place in Zimbabwe that you have never been to….

Back to my stay in Harare. My siblings and I were excited to finally to be living in the capital of Zimbabwe.

The capital city that all our living together textbooks mentioned. It was the same city that was even mentioned in the Shona textbooks.

The trips to Harare were always written in such an appealing manner that one looked forward to being in Harare.

In the books then and even in books now, the mention of conmen and women and thieves in Harare remains consistent. Having read such books traumatised some of us.

The effects are still prevalent in some people even today. Last week I was left shaken after a young woman had her wig ripped off by a man that ran off with it criss-crossing the congested road as it was towards the end of the working day. The young woman held on to her head which now had had corn rows as compared to the long weave she had when she came into town.

When I was young and came to stay in Harare, my father did not have a car.

I am not sure why we did not have a car. As a child I was not privy to delicate information about why a few months earlier we had a car and why it had changed. Delicate information was shared and discussed between the parents and then as children we just had consequences to deal with. Looking back, I yearned much information but yet now as an adult, I have realised that decision making is not easy.

When we stayed in Harare, we used public transport. It changed the way that we operated as a family. There were instances that we all had to travel as a family. The preparation was a mammoth task.

There had to be proper packing and the number of luggage pieces had to be minimal so that there would not be confused once we were on the bus. Those older than me or the same age as me will remember how travelling by bus was a long time ago.

Once the bags were packed, identifying marks were attached. This is one aspect that showed much creativity.

Each time I think about travelling, I remember the time that I stayed in Harare and the various lessons that I learnt from being on public transport.

One thing about using public transport is that one has to be very alert and tolerant.

Since childhood, I have witnessed people missing their stations and different responses from the bus crews. Others get angry and in the process is traumatised and hurt.

Other bus crews show empathy to the passenger and try to organise transport so the passenger can get to their destination properly.

I was on a bus recently and when one of the crew members said he had something to say when we were reaching our destination, he took me back to my childhood days.

He was courteous and encouraged each individual to check their luggage before they disembarked. The way he said it was polite which was different from my childhood days.

Travelling by public transport as a young girl taught me that the control over what is happening is limited.

Travelling by public transport teaches that there are some things within one`s control and some things that are out of control.

When we travelled in our father`s car, we had as many stops as long as my parents sought fit. The stops could be anywhere. This is one aspect that we missed in the two years that we stayed in Harare and my father did not have a car.

If there is one thing that I wish for it is that none of my travel days by public transport coincide with my monthly period.

One has to gear up for inconveniences around a very natural phenomenon.

Recently I was disturbed when a bus crew became a tag team to attack a woman who had taken longer than had been allowed. When the woman tried to explain, the bus crew would have none of it.

The woman was assertive as she asked the all-male crew if they did not have any females in their households.

When the bus crew responded by saying that the females at their homes did not take longer than agreed, she stood boldly at the front of the bus and asked them if they had ever really timed them.

The men asked her to quickly sit down before the bus took off. For me, it was a win for the female race.

The woman took sat down and the bus took off. That woman had made a point. One male passenger commented that women can be difficult, the actual words were: “Vakadzi vanonyanya.” The woman next to him responded bluntly, “Vachinyanya chii nhai imi? Makamboita mukadzi here?’( what do you mean women are difficult, have you ever been a woman?”

What is being difficult? I leave it at that for now.