The stories of young women

Masikati!

Yes, as you can see, my Shona is getting better by the day, though I must admit that out of the three people I am travelling with, Aoife has definitely taught me the most (ironic, as she is from Ireland).

I wanted to write so much more yesterday, but in order not to bore you too much, I have saved more stories for today. Both yesterday and this morning have been incredible. I have met so many people and have learnt so much already that it almost feels like I can finish my thesis (just joking, I wish it were that easy).

Like I said in my first blogs: I am here with the Rafiki Network. Aoife and her team have really done tremendous work here and have put a lot of effort into arranging meetings for me with key stakeholders. The Rafiki Network provides vulnerable communities with mental health and well-being workshops. They work extensively with local companions: young men and women who are based across the Chimanimani district and who facilitate psychosocial support programs for children and other community members. One of their most successful projects is one called “Singing to the Lions”, a mental health programme for children who were traumatised by Cyclone Idai. Another community group they are working with are young mothers between the ages of 16 and 29. The single mothers in Chimanimani are more at risk of gender-based and domestic violence, are more likely to struggle with their mental health, and often face extreme financial hardships.

Yesterday afternoon, I had the pleasure of meeting these young women to discuss their experiences with climate change in Chimanimani. Before the session, I met up with Brice, who helped me formulate my questions in a culturally appropriate way. Brice and I extensively discussed the position of women in Shona society.

In Zimbabwe, womanhood is constructed through motherhood: maternity is perceived as the sole biological, psychological and social marker of womanhood. Hence, the social recognition of women is very much dependent on their marital status and reproductive capabilities. The Shona proverb Unaki hwemukadzi huri pamwana (the beauty of a wife lies in the child) illustrates this. Whilst doing research on constructions of womanhood in Shona culture, I read accounts of infertile Shona women who felt such pressure to become a mother, that some of them felt compelled to take their own lives, request a divorce, or even steal newborn babies from hospitals. Infertility is one of the three traditional justifications for divorce in Shona society (along with the wife’s infidelity, and the accusation of witchcraft).

Because starting a family is seen as the primary life goal in Zimbabwe, marriage is highly valued.When a woman marries, she takes on expressive roles, whilst her husband is the breadwinner. As Brice, Courtney, and Sharlene assured me: women, and especially wives, are expected to beboth socially and economically submissive to their husbands. This is one of the reasons why gender-based violence became so rampant after the cyclone: many women could no longer run their households properly. When women spoke up about that, many faced serious abuse.

Women have always married young in Zimbabwe. As this is a patrilineal society, women move in with their in-laws at the time of marriage. I learnt that for this reason, many Zimbabwean parents are reluctant to invest in their daughters. Any investment made is seen as a loss, for their girl child will move out at a young age anyway.

When a woman marries, her husband-to-be pays her family lobola: bride wealth. Sharlene told me that traditionally, the payment of lobola was a token of appreciation for the upbringing of the girl. However, after the introduction of capitalism, and especially since the economic meltdowns, lobola has increasingly been used as a means to “make money”. Brice, Sharlene, and Courtney all unanimously agreed with academic literature on the position of Shona women, which holds that women are seen as an asset: when a men marries, he “buys” the right to the (re)productive capabilities of his wife. Marriages are now a serious means of business: according to Brice, the average male pays about $8000 of lobola (excluding the costs for the wedding). As Cliff said: “If you have daughters here, you will be rich.”

When Aoife and I joined Sharlene and Courtney’s workshop, there were about eight young women present.All of them brought their children: many were carrying babies on their back, others had toddlers who were roaming around the room.

As agreed by Brice and Aoife, I started the conversation by asking the women after their experiences with changing weather patterns. We purposely did not refer to “climate change”, as not all the people in this community know that the droughts, floods, and cyclones they are experiencing, are connected to climate change. The women, of whom the vast majority were farmers, all agreed that the rain had started to come much later than usual. In the past, they used to plant their crops in August, which would be in time for the rain. Now, however, rain does not fall until October of even December. And when it does, it is either too little or too much. As a result, dams are drying up, the women need to walk longer distances to collect water, and entire harvests fail. Interestingly, most women did not notice a significant change until last year (whilst the weather has been changing here drastically for over a decade now).

Cyclone Idai washed much of their fields away. Others dried up. Houses got completely destroyed, and people could no longer sustain themselves. Even the women who did not work in the agricultural sector, recognised that Idai had a severe impact on their ability to make a living: suddenly, their piecemeal jobs, such as cleaning, cooking or working as a labourer on someone else’s land, were no longer requested. Many women lost their jobs. Some of them even had to give up farming. Others continued, but felt demotivated.

When I asked how the women coped with the losses that had faced, all women unanimously agreed that women carried the brunt of Idai. As most available jobs at that time were in construction work, women had a hard time earning money. Jobs were only available to those who had connections. And those connections often wanted the women to repay their favourbwith their bodies. Women and girls were taken advantage of by soldiers and aid workers, which led to high numbers of early pregnancies. Some girls were raped whilst staying at schools, which served as emergency shelters at the time. Many were dumped by the men that impregnated them. Some resorted to abortion, but many give birth to “illegal” children. These women and girls became outcasts in the community, for no man wanted to marry a “fallen woman”. As one of the women said: “It was very hard for us to get a job without our bodies being exploited.” Even women who were in stable relationships faced sexual abuse and domestic violence: because of the absence of work, many men restored to alcohol and drugs, which lead to gender-based violence in private settings. Other men began suspecting their wives of infidelity, which led to divorces.

When I asked if the women felt like they were dependent on others in order to survive, they agreed that it was hard to be independent. One woman mentioned how a number of 13 and 14 year old girls she knew got married because their family needed the money of the lobola in order to cope with the losses they faced after Idai. They all agreed that those who married often became even more dependent than before. Whilst the women I spoke with all wanted to be self-sufficient, they recognised that it felt impossible to live without the support of a husband. In the end, there was one word they all felt that summarised how they feel after cyclone Idai: vulnerable.