REFLECTIONS OF A MIGRANT - Part 2

Empowering and breaking barriers through stories

As the convoy approached Village 20, where Jessie lived, it sent her into a frenzy as it reminded her of fierce battle scenes from the civil war. She heard the sound of gunshots of the past, and wanted to run away. Old age had taken its toll. In a flash she remembered that the war had ended years ago. In this time of independence, the army vehicles looked much stronger and fortified and were a show of the current government's military prowess. Jessie's fear quickly transformed into pride: Of course, the new people's government has full military might. No one will dare attack us again. We have suffered enough. We are free and will no longer be a colony again. No more imperialists!

The day of the visit had finally arrived and most villagers woke up very early to make the journey. It was already a scorcher of a morning. The village head, Sabook, had spread the message earlier and all roads that day led to the KK shopping centre, with many hoping that there would be a big feast awaiting them. Jessie curled from her reed mat and hurriedly splashed the greenish water over her wrinkled face. Every drop of water was precious in this dry region. She could not remember the last time she had a soap tablet and towel to cleanse herself. She used her tatty wrapper to dry her face and got ready. Maria, her orphaned granddaughter, who fetched water and firewood for her, had died unexpectedly. “It was opportunistic infections which killed Maria, mbuya¹,” the nurse at the clinic had confirmed, “she had not reached that stage where she could start taking antiretroviral drugs.” Jessie did not know what opportunistic infections were but knew Maria had succumbed to a high fever two weeks earlier. The fresh mound of soil next to Jessie's ageing hut was a stark reminder of this. Jessie wanted to attend the Premier's meeting to distract her from her sorrowful life and recent bereavement.

Jessie joined other women who were still fit to tackle the stony trail to the venue. They trudged along the dusty trail to the local and rather declining KK shopping centre where tiny and poorly ventilated shops were few and far between and most shelves had been empty for some time.

Everyone waited expectantly and respectfully on the hot sand for most of the morning under the sizzling tropical heat. The villagers felt their bodies baking in the scorching heat, but the past war had taught them resilience and discipline to continue. In the mid-afternoon, armoured cars with heavily armed men soon appeared at the parade of shops. Their leader had arrived in a convoy of metallic cars with dark tinted windows. Their magnificence left the villagers gaping in awe. Indeed, their nation had become a powerful one, a nation among nations. He elegantly emerged out of one of the cars donning a neat suit and was welcomed with a burst of ululation which echoed pride and admiration. This is how they expressed their celebration of independence!

As soon as he arrived, the regional premier wasted no time in giving his pre-election speech.

“I have come to reaffirm my promise to you that after these elections, we will empower and free you from economic oppression. In the past, we failed to make progress due to illegal sanctions imposed on us by other countries. Yes, we gained political independence, but clearly we were still under the subjugation of economic oppression. Give us time, we will not let you down. I am your son, I urge you not to betray our ancestors and hand back the soil to the imperialists. This region is beautiful and rich in natural resources, the sacred wildlife in Musasa Woodlands is precious. These foreign nations impose sanctions on us for no good reason because they want our oil, platinum, sparkling diamonds, fresh fruit, vegetables, flowers; and our granite to grace their state of the art kitchen worktops. They want to recolonise us, leave their freezing countries and come to our African sun and areas of natural heritage. They manufacture diseases in laboratories to inject us so as to decimate our people. We say no to this. Please vote for my party, the best is yet to come!”

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This is an extract from a new book 'New Voices: Empowering and breaking barriers through stories' first published in May 2014 by the New Voices Wagon Project in conjunction with University of Leicester, The Rayne foundation and Praxis Community Projects. Part 3 of the story coming soon

1“grandma”

REFLECTIONS OF A MIGRANT .....

Empowering and breaking barriers ............

The visit had been a long time coming and seemed much longer than their wait for freedom. Finally this was their moment to catch a glimpse of their revered leader. They had been free from their oppressor for fifteen years. Now it was their chance to see their hero in person, to shake the hand of one of those who had liberated them from the yoke of colonialism.

When the civil war had escalated, those in high political places no longer visited tribal villages. It was too dry and dusty, and no longer safe for them. Life in these remote villages was too rural. Stuffy mud huts, fly-infested cattle kraals, anthrax in their livestock, deserted buildings, muddy drinking water, a diseased population. These were all an embarrassment to the outside world. This led the authorities to drive their ancestors to isolated parts of the country, far from the public eye.

During the civil unrest, the national leaders were preoccupied with the needs of the law-abiding minority and had a war to win. The tribal zones had long had their own segregated system, with their infrastructure not up to the required standard and in keeping with their depraved landscape. It looked like they coped well with very little. They lived in self-inflicted poverty, smelled of months – if not years – of sweat and urine, never to be trusted. No, it wasn't government policy to impoverish a segment of its population. It was their choice to lead such a life with beliefs that were far from modern.

It was their own children who had revolted against a legitimate government. They allowed them to cause terror and destroy all forms of government infrastructure, planting landmines on the roads, blowing up bridges and going against good conservation practices. They were killing government officials and innocent civilians. This had caused immense suffering and the blame laid squarely on them. They were terrorists! The war was necessary to teach these people a lesson not to bite the hand that fed them. They needed tougher policies and close monitoring to show who was in charge. The government then imposed dusk-till-dawn curfews and protected villages for everyone's safety.

As Jessie's thoughts flashed back to all of these past miseries, it was befitting that she and her fellow kinsmen were celebrating independence in this way. At her age, she was privileged to experience political freedom first hand. A lot of people, including children, had failed to cross over to this independence. Now they had their freedom and government which they had struggled for countless years. Their own sons of the soil had taken over the reins.

The day before the visit, a convoy of camouflaged vehicles appeared from a distance. It moved cautiously avoiding the pool-sized potholes on the village dirt road. Dark frail silhouettes, including Jessie’s own, swerved uneasily by the doorways of tiny huts wanting to catch a glimpse of the latest news.

Locals had heard that their quality of life exceeded that of the cities which were opposition party strongholds. Life was becoming difficult in the urban areas and the rest of the population thought city dwellers deserved this. Everyone in the village hated the cities and all they stood for – sell-outs, cowards and disease. Whoever governed the cities had failed dismally – electricity and water shortages, treacherous potholes, chipped tarmac roads and overgrown grass on every open space. There were long queues for everything even to view dead bodies. They generated a lot of waste from their commercialised lifestyles, yet blamed the authorities for not collecting it – their own rubbish! What happened to the days of dug out rubbish pits and pit latrines? Urban dwellers had become a disgrace to the nation with their maladies: tuberculosis, cholera, STIs and HIV. At least people in the rural areas proudly breathed fresh air. The Premier was right not to visit or do anything for that urban part of his constituency in Sunshine City. He neither had, nor needed any of their support. They were cowards, who had retreated to the comforts of urban life when everyone was fighting in the bush .......................

To be continued

This is an extract from a new book 'New Voices: Empowering and breaking barriers through stories' first published in May 2014 by the New Voices Wagon Project in conjunction with University of Leicester, The Rayne foundation and Praxis Community Projects. Parts 2 and 3 of the story coming soon

Ruth Pink

BEING A WOMAN IN AFRICA

PRESS RELEASE

Hatfield, England

New novel exposes misogyny in patriarchal cultures

‘Being a Woman in Africa’ offers an insightful glimpse into the mistreatment of women

In her new book “Being a Woman in Africa” [published by AuthorHouse] author Ruth Pink draws on her childhood experience to craft a novel that exposes the horrible treatment of women in some African cultures.

The book follows the soulful tale of Rosewitta, a young African woman, born into a misogynistic society. Her tyrannical father is reluctant to send her to school, and behaves violently towards the family. As the protagonist's story unfolds, the reader follows the prejudices she encounters throughout her life, from the sexual harassment she suffers at work, as well as the setbacks she faces, such as her husband’s death. Pink's empowering text provides a message of hope for readers.

“My main goal is to create awareness about the problems that some women still face today – lack of education, domestic violence, sexual harassment, rape, poverty and poor health”, Pink states. “I want to motivate people around the world to take action and to think about the issues which come out of the story. Where possible – and after reading this book – readers should start making changes which help womenfolk, wherever they are in this world – big or small changes.”

“Being a Woman in Africa” by Ruth Pink

Hardcover | 6 x 9 in | 124 pages | ISBN 9781481798143

Softcover | 6 x 9 in | 124 pages | ISBN 9781491879573

E-Book | 124 pages | ISBN 9781491879580

Available at Amazon and Barnes & Noble

Ruth Pink was born in Zimbabwe. She has a background in Social Science, staying current through reading and personal involvement. She has one daughter. She lives with her husband, Paul, in Hatfield, England.

For more information, visit www.ruthpink.blogspot.com

Book links:

http://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/Being-a-Woman-in-Africa-/291021986876?

http://www.amazon.co.uk/BEING-A-WOMAN-IN-AFRICA-ebook/dp/B00FUYNF8A/ref=pd_rhf_ee_p_t_2_G469

WHSmith link; http://www.whsmith.co.uk/products/being-a-woman-in-africa/product/

MY SIGNATURE

GIGANTI GIGANTI PERFORMING

My signature

At seventeen, I entered High school,
I signed admittance documents.
At nineteen, I enrolled for a Psychology Degree at University,
I signed admittance documents.
At twenty three I graduated with a lower second degree class,
I signed for my certificate.

At twenty four, I became a clinical psychologist,
I signed my first employment contract.
At twenty five I had to sign my life
To a man I loved since childhood.
Our traditional wedding took place under a huge Msasa tree in Guruve communal lands,
On the 25th of April 1992.

I had made a vow to God.
To follow our traditional Shona culture of purity before marriage
So I did wed as a virgin
My in laws gave me a traditional white cloth for purity
And the church gave me a white bible.
Oh, how I remember these events so vividly.

Our wedding was like a royal rumble
Songsters sang sonorously
The grass and trees also sang along
We were greeted by a fanfare of people
Blowing traditional trumpets-  mbira and hosho
It was a real jamboree
Everyone had gathered to witness our signatures

“You may embrace the bride”
These words from the late Reverend Moyo fifteen years ago,
Always ululate in my mind as if it was fifteen days ago
My husband gave me these  handmade sandals as a wedding token.
I loved you Lawrence Marshal Moto.
Rest in peace my darling husband.

I signed almost every paper in my life
But my greatest signature,
Was when I signed the marriage papers on that day during the harvest season.
I reached the zenith of my bliss.
Quavering in disbelief.
For real I had married a romantic protagonist of my life.

With my signature, I lost my virginity happily
Inside our round hutted bedroom on top of a reed mat.
It was a dream come true.
I changed my name from Chiedza Adriana Mugove
To Chiedza Adriana Moto.
Oh, how beautiful it rhymed

Unfortunately, my greatest signature became my greatest snare.
I had signed my virginity to an HIV positive man.
I felt annihilated and cheated.
By a man I loved more than life itself.

After all the long wait my Lord
What I got was HIV
I lost the will to survive
Lawrence had lost it for the umpteenth time a long time ago
So he died five years later
On the eleventh day of the seven month 1997
He was buried on an anthill in Guruve communal lands
I signed for his death certificate.

I have forgiven you may husband.
Today I am coping well.
Though at times I feel lackadaisical.
But my rectitude keeps me going.
I turned forty last week.
Today it’s my fifteenth year living positively with HIV.

Our signatures were important.
They gave us a strong personality later in life.
It was not easy to accept my tragedy.
But I tell you, if it was not for your signature.
I would not have been this ascetic.
I would not have become a Systemic Family Therapist.
And I would not have saved people’s lives.
I became a living example to the hopeless.

At forty I am signing my life.
I will always sign it.
In remembrance of those great signatures.
We both scribbled many years ago.
I wish you could sign again.
For I know you were not a sadist.
Till we meet again
I leave you this, MY SIGNATURE.

Reproduced with Lance Muteyo's permission and taken from the blog giftsinopenhands.wordpress.com/2012/09/03/99-days-of-pentecost-two-weddngs-in-zimbabwe/. I cannot wait for the poetry compilation.

Please visit www.charityhope.org.uk/for more of Lance's work.

One way, among many,  to support this charity's work is by buying my new book via this link  http://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/Being-a-Woman-in-Africa-/291021986876? your views will never be the same again after reading this book.

********

It's my daughter's 25th birthday today. Ebenezer!

Pink Rose xxx

TRAGEDY OF THE OUTCAST

A POEM FROM ZIMBABWE

This is a touching poem from Zimbabwe and it's self explanatory. Over the past few years and at the time I worked with women and children and now, I have met with amazing and very spirited men who are determined to tackle gender equality, poverty, domestic violence, sexual abuse, rape, education (or lack of it) and disease. Lance is one of these amazing men and his work in Zimbabwe is inspirational. Thank you all men of valor out there - too numerous to mention.

Tragedy of the outcast – by Lancelot Muteyo, Harare, Zimbabwe

Like any infant she was born
Healthy and gorgeous
Somewhere through the fateful eyes of history
Her parents were caught with their pants down

Unaware, the Human Immuno – Deficiency Virus infiltrated their veins
Residing in a dilapidated squatter camp they quickly developed AIDS
A squatter camp called Tariro meaning hope
Yet with no ray of hope inside that community.
A squatter camp that had no street names
Her parents sadly succumbed to the pandemic and died

Rudo, their daughter was left vulnerable in Tariro.
Though adolescent, she became a pauper
A static of HIV and AIDS orphaned children in the AIDS on line resources.
With nowhere to go within the dusty roads of the camp.

She found spiritual support within the church
A church constructed by cardboard boxes.
Inside the haven of comfort
Pastors sexually abused her inside the holy baptistery
Male teachers terrorised  behind the library stacks.
Uncle Taka converted her into a sex machine in exchange for food and shelter.

Already vulnerable!
Consequently, vulnerable to vulnerability!
Pathetically, an AIDS orphan became an AIDS victim
An AIDS survivor – not victim rather
Honestly history gave her an unfair destiny

World AIDS DAY 2013 Celebrations Zimbabwe
Lancelot Muteyo

First published by Maren Tirabassi on http://giftsinopenhands.wordpress.com/2013/11/28/for-world-aids-day-poem-from-zimbabwe-prayer-from-the-united-states/

Reproduced with Lance Muteyo's permission.

The video below sums it all up. 

AFRICAN WOMEN VIDEO

2014 CHALLENGE: RESTORING HOPE

This year I will be working with the following organizations in my own small way.

1. Charityhope Trust – 

I have worked with this charity from day one. Please donate towards improving education in Africa via their website www.charityhope.org.uk/. My own passion is for a school called Madimutsa School, located in a remote part of Zimbabwe.It's school buildings are like this 33 years after Zimbabwe became independent. Nothing much has changed (see pictures below)

We need more donations like this

We would like more books, footballs and net balls, sports kits, money to pay tuition fees- it's $5 a term for one child. Some children do not afford $5 a term so drop out of school - every little helps. Please check out ways to donate on the Charityhope Trust website.

2. Adonai Baptist Church, based in Marondera Zimbabwe. This is a growing Baptist congregation based in a small town called Marondera in Zimbabwe. They work with ordinary people in the community and come face to face with people affected by poverty, disease, HIV/AIDS, illiteracy and dropping out of school, domestic violence, child marriages, sexual abuse and rape. I'll be bringing you reports of actual cases from his community.
   Special appeal;
   The immediate need for the young and energetic Adonai Baptist Church Pastor is a laptop. If any of you readers from around the world would like to help with a laptop for our Pastor in Zimbabwe, please drop us a line on this e-mail address adonaiorg95@gmail.com. Adonai desperately needs that laptop for their work at Nyameni, Marondera, Zimbabwe.
   Partnership
   Would you like to visit Zimbabwe, partner with them and and help them spread the word of God in any way? Do you have Bibles to spare in your local Church? Do you have anything else suitable for this growing Church? Please get in touch.
   Individuals, Churches and organizations are welcome to donate.
   Please get in touch if you are up for this! Contact details are Adonai BaptistZim's facebook page, be a friend, be a partner. OR write them an e-mail on adonaiorg95@gmail.com, or visit their blog page on adonaiorg95.blogspot.co.uk.

My book is still available on http://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/Being-a-Woman-in-Africa-/291021986876? Proceeds from this will support the above organizations.

SEEKING INNER VERSUS OUTER BEAUTY

I hear that there is a certain group of men from a certain region in Africa – who are at it again - denigrating women from a certain African nation (about the way the women look). Fellow sisters out there be aware and be alert! I think this particular group feels threatened by our collective action and voices. And we are not stopping! (and get me right, it's a certain group of men not all of them)

If you get a chance, any chance to empower yourself, do it. From what these men are saying and doing, it is clear that no-one is going to do it for us. None but ourselves. Without saying a lot, and moving forward here is a 10-point plan to get us going in 2014 – I have a 21-point plan in my forthcoming book;

1. If your life seems complex and you want to understand what's going on, stop and think, then break it down into phases. A solution might come out of that.
2. Seek help if you can.
3. Learn from your mistakes.
4. Learn something new – a skill, language, a certain subject - be informed. Take a step.
5. Change for the better – everyday - Make small manageable changes.
6. Use your potential – start with what you have.
7. A form of faith does help sometimes.
8. Know that culture – any culture - is dynamic (we are no longer in the stone age!)
9. Teach your child /ren - if you have any – from a tender age. Don't wait till its too late.
10. Count your blessings – do not moan all the time.

With the response I have had so far - the dialogue, more enquiries about the book 'Being A Woman In Africa,' and about my story, book purchases, donations to charity etc - I am one happy African woman! I'm glad the message of EMPOWERMENT is spreading like veld-fire, thousands from all over the world have read or are reading my book - thank you readers in the USA, UK, Germany, Russia, Sweden, Switzerland, Brazil, China, Taiwan, South Africa, Kenya, India, Canada, Netherlands, Norway, Poland, Australia, France, Taiwan, Zimbabwe and in new territories. Thanks to Writers' and Readers' groups who are spreading the message. Couldn't be happier!

************

Through this post I am making a special appeal to African women wherever you read my posts from - women who are feeling trapped in one way or the other, please seek help as soon as possible. I'm not a counsellor but if there is anything bothering you related to domestic violence, rape, sexual abuse, physical, emotional, psychological or economic abuse, child marriage etc PLEASE SEEK HELP.

Wherever you are, if you suspect that such things are happening to someone you know please help the person concerned. Speak with them or report the case.

Here are a few organizations in Zimbabwe which could be of some help;

• Your local Church Pastor - if he / she understands such issues – not that infamous one with 11 wives!!!!!!!
• New Start Centres in Zimbabwe
• Musasa Project in Harare – and other centres were you can just walk in to look for information or for a chat
• If anyone knows of any similar organizations, please drop me a line or pass on the information to the person concerned

************

Please do get in touch if you need further information - on my twitter account, facebook page or via the Charityhope Trust website, or on about.me/ruth.pink. Thanks to all men (and women) who are reading and are dying to read my book. More info. is on the above sites.

I will be looking for INNER rather than OUTER beauty in 2014 and beyond. Let's count all our blessings - especially 2013 blessings! In the meantime enjoy the remaining festive season to the max.

Ruth Pink xx

BEING A WOMAN IN AFRICA

'KWA MARABU'

If something really traumatic happens in your life, small problems will not shake you, take it from me. As I speak today, small things do not shake me. That is who I am today, I get inspiration from positive-thinking people and out of every situation I dig deep for something positive from it.

I wrote about some of the traumatic things I experienced (in the book 'Being A Woman in Africa). If you follow Rosewitta closely, maybe you will learn more about the real life 'me.'

It doesn't matter who you are – educated, uneducated, rich, poor, high or middle class (this class thing is an English thing. I strongly subscribe to the fact that class structures are social constructs. So to me classes do not exist, but exist in people's minds). Some life experiences can take you to the rubbish dump. We call it 'kwaMarabu,' in Zim lingo. So at one time, I was there, 'kwaMarabu,' scavenging - in a figurative sense. I saw that I was going downhill – 'kumawere.' I had to dig deep to salvage myself. I sought inspiration from anyone and anything – young boys and girls, from the good Pastor, from nature – from anything. I read the Bible from cover to cover, I became what they call 'a Bible-basher.' The recovery was slow and painful, but somehow my self-taught methods worked.

After all this, I'm glad to say my life has completely changed after realizing that “life is short,” to be negative - see page 112 of 'Being A Woman in Africa.' This is one good lesson that life threw at me and a message contained in my book.

********

With the response I have had so far - the dialogue, more enquiries about the book and deeper questions about my life story, book purchases, donations to charity etc - I am one happy African woman!

Please do get in touch if you need further information - on my twitter account, facebook page or via the Charityhope Trust website., or on about.me/ruth.pink. My book is available on this e-bay for charity link:-

http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=291010233402 

I will probably have one more post before the end of year. Let's count all our 2013 blessings! In the meantime enjoy the festive season to the max. Don't drink and drive!

Ruth Pink xx

EXTRACT FROM MY FORTHCOMING AUTOBIOGRAPHY...

(My husband had passed away the previous day and we we were preparing for his funeral......)

The following day as relatives and friends gathered around me to deal with the shocking news, my world turned literally 'blue' and was going round and round around me. The 22^nd of September was a different day, different from all other days. The sun dawned from the west, and everything all just seemed mixed up. This death was a mix up. There must have been a mistake somewhere, as I was not really sure that this was happening to me. I sat there numb, cheeks in the palm of my hands, as I watched events unfolding yet again. I did not feel an urge to cry, because 'surely this was not real.' I saw close relatives and friends coming to console me, wailing in disbelief at the top of their voices. All I could do was just watch the world pass by yet again, wondering what was really wrong with me. My world had been shattered.

There is a story for me which ended on the 22^nd of September that year as my husband’s body was transported to his home village for an overnight vigil as is the custom, and for burial on the following day. As he was buried in his home village, this closed a chapter in my life as I pondered where I would start my next life chapter with all my expectations shattered like that. Although it took me time to recover, yet again I had to start to learn life lessons and start to live on my own, raising up a young child on my own.

This was the beginning of a new chapter and a new life. Life was not easy but I entered a phase of my life where I had to fend for myself and for my child. In that male dominated society, I now stood alone, bare and exposed with no-one to lean on. I was no longer in the shadows of my brother or sister. I no longer had to stand by a man as society expected. Although there were really sad moments after that I learnt to pick myself up to what I am today. I felt as is no-one, not even family members seemed to understand the agony that I was going through. I felt misunderstood.

We all need to re-new our thinking time and again

I write today from England because I managed to pick myself up. I had to literally start learning about life all over again. I vowed re-invent myself, and pick from that day onwards. And I had to do it all by myself. I couldn’t ask for counselling from friends or family who had not experienced what I experienced. I could not seek bereavement counselling from anyone I knew. When I lost my husband, relatives were with me for at most a week. After that everyone was back to business yet I was hurting inside.

In that situation I had to learn to console myself and to draw from what other people said to me. This is when I learnt that at times, in a society with few support systems, you need to learn things all by yourself, to teach yourself lessons from what life throws at you. It is not all about learning academically in the classroom and lectures rooms as I had done, we need to learn about life every day, change everyday and apply those life lessons to our daily life.

Seeking healing

Through out my whole life, I had grown up internalising feelings, whether they were of anger, frustration, hurt or bereavement. I was somebody who could only deal with emotions by internalising them. I did that very well. When we had something that we needed to talk about like growing up as teenage girls, the African culture did not allow us to discuss this openly. We did not talk about the changes that were happening to our bodies, (that tingling sensation that we all feel sometimes!) about having babies or how babies are made, we did not talk about death, or anger or happiness. We did not talk about falling in love, about having children, about family problems......... It was part of how we were socialized.

Each family member had their own ways of dealing with such emotions. I don’t know how other family members dealt with all these emotions, neither do I know the inner secrets in their lives, their hurts, what happened to them and that which they do not want to talk about. They have their stories to tell which are completely different to mine.

As life moved on, I discovered that I was not getting anywhere expecting anyone to carry my feelings with them. As I grew mature and as I gave birth to my child, somehow I began to understand life and death, that after life comes death. Everyone will eventually die. With maturity, I learnt the art of opening up to others, slow and painful as it was. I was now able to discuss some of the subjects that we thought were taboo. I began to talk openly about my bereavement. I asked myself hard questions and gave myself answers. I started moving out of my shell and I made a commitment to meet others. But this had to be gradual. I joined a Church, joined a group of friends and in no time, Church leaders started to refer young women to me – those who had recently been bereaved. Each case was tragic as it was different.

I was at a loss as how to help them. I had to find ways of helping them so as to help myself. At first I didn’t know how to. Soon I realised that for me to get my healing and closure to some of the issues from my past, I had to learn to help others. So I quickly learnt how to do this in very unconventional ways. I looked back and looked at all those things that I had needed that other women who had problems needed. Women needed a listening ear, I listened. Those grieving women needed encouragement, I encouraged them. They needed information as to where to go, I helped them with what I knew and signposted them to the right places. I encouraged them to ask questions if they didn’t know. I encouraged them to fill in any information and knowledge gaps if they had any, to pick themselves from where their late husbands had left them and start a new life. Besides this, I discovered that it was not only bereaved women who sought help, a lot of women came up with their problems. I really felt the burden to go beyond the boundaries that I had set myself. Women were caught up in poverty, some were in abusive relationships, some were not literate, some were single, some were bereaved, some did not have jobs. The multitude of problems was just too much. Through this, I discovered that I got the healing that I had never had, and in turn I could get further healing by helping others.

(This is an extract from my forthcoming autobiography ….so it's unedited and it's still under construction. If you understand where I'm coming from, I worry more about getting the message across than anything else. If you want to understand more about my life, you need to understand what's in my new book available on this link;

http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=291010233402

or you can get in touch via my twitter account @lilac_ruth, via my facebook page or via the CharityHope Trust website

All the best

Ruth Pink

Archant Herts 24: View Picture: WHT_0634.jpg

Archant Herts 24: View Picture: WHT_0634.jpg  Author explores life out in Africa

BOOK AND CHARITY DETAILS:

BEING A WOMAN IN AFRICA

Archant Herts 24: View Picture: WHT_0634.jpgarchantherts24.newsprints.co.uk

Charityhope Trust

To help Charity Hope Trust buy this book via e-bay for charity on this link 

http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=291010233402

for more information on Charity Hope Trust, visit them at;

http://www.charityhope.org.uk/

EXTRACT FROM THE BOOK:

HANNAH AND CHOKUNYANYA

Hannah was attractive, softly spoken and had a good sense of humour. Even at primary school, her parents bought her beauty products to groom herself and her skin glowed like a baby’s skin. Everyone wanted to be close to her and to associate with this beautiful girl. The school head chose her to be the face of the school because of her looks and good character, and Hannah did not mind at all. She was the one tasked with giving presents to guest speakers, to serve food to teachers on special occasions or to give garlands to the local ZPH (the Zenith Party of Human Rights) politician whenever he visited the school to donate money or books. In that environment, textbooks were gold to some pupils, as not every child could afford them, except the fortunate ones like Hannah. The local ZPH Member of Parliament was well respected for his generous donations to the school, and always won that seat at every election.

Hannah was the envy of everyone at school. Mr Chokunyanya was her class teacher and he was among the twenty-one strong staff at St Faith’s Mission. The rumours were that Mr Chokunyanya loved the women, and had tried it on with every single lady teacher at the school. He grinned every time a woman passed him. Mr Chokunyanya’s wife was also a primary school teacher who worked at a rural school, a hundred kilometres away from St Faith’s Mission. Mai Chokunyanya was a large, curvy, likeable woman, and schoolchildren used to gather around her like she was a spectacle. She probably weighed around 140 kilos, and was so curvy that the children used to mock her and say that a mug of tea would rest comfortably on her behind. Mr Chokunyanya seemed somewhat embarrassed to be seen in the company of his wife, as he was half her size and much shorter. Whenever they were in each other’s company, he would lead the way and move a few metres ahead of her, as if they were not together, and they rarely spoke to each other in public. The children whispered about this behind their backs. It looked like Chokunyanya was happier in Mai (Mrs) Chokunyanya’s absence, and this gave him the chance to see other women, or so the rumours went.

(In the Zimbabwean Shona language and in the book, Chokunyanya is a man who cheats (excessively!) on his wife. As his name implies, this cheating comes to an abrupt end, and he reaps what he sows.).............he did not turn up at the end of his holiday

"BEING A WOMAN IN AFRICA"
By Ruth Pink is available as
Softcover [6 x 9] 124 pages ] ISBN 978-1-4918-7957-3
E-book [124 pages] ISBN 978-1-4918-7958-0

The book launch is on the 30th of November 2013 at Woodhall Community Centre, Welwyn Garden City, England AL7 3XD

Also buy the book from Charityhopetrust and support their cause to educate African children. Their website is http://www.charityhope.org.uk/
Please follow the e-bay link below to purchase this book, 100% of the proceeds from e-bay for Charity sales will go towards helping Charityhopetrust.

http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=291010233402

WEDNESDAY, 6 NOVEMBER 2013

BEING A WOMAN IN AFRICA

NEW NOVEL EXPOSES MISOGYNY IN PATRIARCHAL CULTURES ....

'Being a Woman in Africa' offers firsthand glimpse into mistreatment of women........

HATFIELD, HERTFORDSHIRE, ENGLAND - In her new book "Being a Woman in Africa" author Ruth Pink draws on her childhood experiences to craft a novel that exposes the horrible treatment of women in some African cultures.

Rosewitta, a young African woman, is born and bred in a family and a society, which have prejudices against women. Her polygamous father is reluctant to send her to school, and he is violent towards her, her mother and sisters. She manages to get an education, but goes on to suffer sexual harassment at work. At the end, Rosewitta is the only one in the family who seems to have an opening in life, but at the point when success seems to be within reach, her husband dies at a tender age and she suffers further prejudices.

"My main goal is to create awareness about the problems that some women face today - lack of education, domestic violence, sexual harassment, rape, poverty and poor health," Pink says. "I want to motivate people around the world to take action and to think about the issues which come out of the story. Where possible - and after reading this book - readers should start making changes which help womenfolk, wherever they are in this world - big or small changes."

"BEING A WOMAN IN AFRICA"
By Ruth Pink is available as
Softcover [6 x 9] 124 pages ] ISBN 978-1-4918-7957-3
E-book [124 pages] ISBN 978-1-4918-7958-0

The book launch is on the 30th of November 2013 at Woodhall Community Centre, Welwyn Garden City, England AL7 3XD

You can also buy the book from Charityhopetrust and support their cause to educate African children. Their website is http://www.charityhope.org.uk/
Please follow the e-bay link below to purchase this book and support African children. 100% of the proceeds will go towards helping the above charity.


".....Absolutely amazing book. An engaging narrative that will leave your heart aching for the African woman's plight. I highly recommend it." Dr Mercy 


".....Absolutely brilliant..." Pauline, Hatfield, Herts

".....it makes beautiful reading." Delia, Stevenage, Herts


http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=291010233402

TUESDAY, 1 OCTOBER 2013

BEING A WOMAN IN AFRICA

BOOK DETAILS

Please get your copy on the 30th of November 2013, in Welwyn Garden City, Hertfordshire, or alternatively follow the link below:

http://www.authorhouse.co.uk/Bookstore/BookDetail.aspx?BookId=SKU-000569492

FRIDAY, 27 SEPTEMBER 2013

BEING A WOMAN IN AFRICA

BEING A WOMAN IN AFRICA

In writing this novel, I was inspired by the way I grew up in Zimbabwe. I struggled to get an education and I faced discrimination from school authorities just because I was a girl. This truly happened to me! (The headteacher said to me..... with the results you have you do not qualify to study 'A' level Mathematics, Biology and Chemistry – given the school you came from) Meanwhile boys with similar results to mine and girls from a 'better girls' school' (in the Head's eyes!) were offered the above subjects (yet the curriculum was the same countrywide!!!!!)

Even after qualifying for a certain profession and getting a job, I did not get equal treatment with menfolk. There were some men at the work place - always ready to undress you with their eyes and making nasty comments about female colleagues. (I always heard this saying that 'Men are hunters and women are the hunted' umm)

As I grew up, most women and girls suffered as I did, for some it was even worse. (The case of Sarah who was married off at a tender age haunts me up to today – it's a true story but I have changed her name.)

So in my novel (which is a very easy read) I write about these problems – poverty, education or lack of it, rape, abuse, poor health just to name a few. My main aim is to create awareness about these issues, and to get all you readers thinking!

This blog post is written in support of the work done by a charitable organisation called Charity Hope Trust. Find them onhttp://www.charityhope.org.uk

My new book BEING A WOMAN IN AFRICA will be available soon:

This novel will come in the following formats;

* 6 x 9 Perfect bound soft cover ISBN 9-781-4918-7957-3

* 6 x 9 Case bound hard cover ISBN 9-781-4817-9814-3

* E-book ISBN 9-781-4918-7958-0

The book will be available in October/ November 2013. There will be a Book Launch Buffet on the 30th of November 2013 at Woodhall Community Centre, Welwyn Garden City, Hertfordshire, England from 1600 hours to 2200 hours. Come and listen to your favourite speakers, and also get a chance to support your favourite Charity.

Pink Rose

SATURDAY, 21 SEPTEMBER 2013

LIFE IN AFRICA

LATER PRIMARY SCHOOL YEARS .....

In my previous blog post, you may remember what I wrote - I started my primary education at a remote rural school in Mutoko, Zimbabwe, in the early 1970s. The civil war in Zimbabwe had only just begun and no one was sure where the country was heading in terms of the war.

Most school children came from distant villages and were walking barefoot to get to school. Most ran the danger of running into 'Rhodesian forces' on the one hand or 'guerilla freedom fighters' on the other, in the dark and scary forests which they had to pass through.

I started my primary education in 1973. Two years after that my siblings and I left the school because the civil war had intensified. I left behind all my classmates who had nowhere else to go. I left behind Sarah and Rosewitta (names changed). Rumours were that Sarah had already been forced to marry a polygamous man from a certain religious sect, although she still came to school, and indeed she behaved like a married 'woman' at that tender age. One of my teachers liked and admired Rosewitta. He would send her to his house - to clean his house, cook for him; and wash his clothes and under-wear.

Years later, that remote school was closed. I don't know what happened to most of my school mates, whether they continued with their education or not.

*

At the new location, the ordeal continued. My siblings and I still travelled long distances, and on bare feet. We now had to pass through dark, scary forests and along the way we met insane people who always threatened us with violence.

Even though that region was much better (in terms of the climatic conditions and accessibility) life was still hard. The new school was still in a rural region. We found it hard to get the basic things of life – food, water, books, school uniforms, shoes, pens or pencils. Hardships were evident all over the rural landscape – every other year there was a drought, low rainfall and extreme temperatures. This was not helpful as most people relied on the land. During the farming season, when climatic conditions were conducive, we worked hard in the fields. The income from agricultural activities would help us pay our tuition fees. All this inspired me to get an education as I did not want to work in the fields all my life. I worked hard in the fields, and twice as hard at school. I had to make maximum use of the natural daylight to study, (fortunately there is plenty sunshine in Africa), only if I wasn't working in the fields or performing household duties.

At the school, the events which had happened at the remote Mutoko school, seemed to repeat themselves. One of the male teachers at the new school liked and admired one of his female pupils. (I will call her Ruva – flower.) He would send her to his house to do chores for him. This took a sinister turn and rumours were that something bad was happening to this young girl. No-one reported anything, no-one took action and no-one investigated. During that time no-one carried out criminal checks on adults who worked with young children. We did not know who was who.

I have a few questions though, 40 years on - or 33 years after Zimbabwe became independent;

1. Is every eligible child getting the education they need?
2. Is the quality of education improving – access to books, provision of good buildings – classrooms, libraries, sanitation?
3. Are criminal checks done on teachers who work in Zimbabwean schools today?
4. Are safeguarding policies and child protection in force in our remote schools?

*

This blog post is written in support of the work done by a charitable organisation called Charity Hope Trust. Find them onhttp://www.charityhope.org.uk

My new book BEING A WOMAN IN AFRICA will be available soon:

This novel will come in the following formats;

* 6 x 9 Perfect bound soft cover ISBN 9-781-4918-7957-3

* 6 x 9 Case bound hard cover ISBN 9-781-4817-9814-3

* E-book ISBN 9-781-4918-7958-0

It's likely to be available before the end of November 2013. There will be a Book Launch Buffeton the 30th of November 2013 at a venue to be announced. Come and listen to your favourite speakers, and also get a chance to support your favourite Charity.

*

Comments on the book so far;

“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

*

SATURDAY, 7 SEPTEMBER 2013

BEING A WOMAN .. ISBN 978 149 1879573

BEING A WOMAN IN AFRICA

 Rosewitta is born in a poor but very large family. She and her mother struggle for survival on a daily basis; in a society laden with certain cultural beliefs and societal imbalances. If a pair of knickers are considered a luxury in her immediate environment, how does the wider society deal with some of her other basic needs?

Rosewitta's story is narrated in very simple terms highlighting the daily struggles of women in such an environment. The story not only narrates, but goes further to explore how women manage to survive and at the same time raise very large families. After all is said and done, does anyone recognize this plight of women? Does Rosewitta, like all other women in similar circumstances, succeed in her quest for survival and recognition?

*

“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

*

This novel will come in the following formats;

* 6 x 9 Perfect bound soft cover ISBN 978 149 1879573

* 6 x 9 Case bound hard cover ISBN 978 148 1798143

* E-book ISBN 978 149 1879580

- It's likely to be available well before the end of November 2013. There will be a Book Launch Buffet at a venue to be announced, and on the 30th of November 2013. Come and listen to your favourite speakers, and also get a chance to support your favourite Charity. 

*

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