|BBA: When adults play house|
|Thursday, 31 May 2012 21:47|
In the village, in the land of milk, honey and dust or Guruve, a chicken’s prayer doesn’t affect a hawk, but that does not make the chicken give up the prayers. There is always hope that the prayers will be answered, one day. Just one day!
In the realm of moral truism, whoever sees mucus in the nose of the king is the one who cleans it.
Again in the village, the groin pains in sympathy with the sore.
Today’s subject is a sore in our society and, this villager, being the groin of this society is in pain.
In the village life is a journey that has stages, which, one must never miss. Each stage has its own important flavour to add to one’s life into adulthood. Step by step, we all grow. One such stage is playing house, mahumbwe, in Shona. One plays the father, the other the mother and others children etc.
There are also games. You see girls, dresses tucked away into the seams of panties, playing boxes. Age dictating these stages and the level of consciousness. Their tender thighs are exposed, but no eye is insulted or attracted. Those are children.
But can you imagine, what happens to one’s mind after growing up without going through the same, defining stages? And, at the age of 28, a lady plays boxes with kids!
In my village, a few moons ago, we got a bride joining the family and coming for the rituals.
Moments later after all the in-laws and adults had gone to the fields to harvest, a sudden return saw the bride having joined the kids playing boxes.
Yes, the dress tucked away in the seams of her panties, leaping and bouncing on one leg, shoes removed and the asymmetrical ropy artificial dread locks flying all over the head and shoulders. Facial cosmetics peeling off with streaming sweat, exposing a scatter of dead pimples. It was a quite spectacle!
Meanwhile, the fire flame in the kitchen had no kind lick on the pot and its contents. Burnt and burnished was the stew. The truth is she had not gone through this stage of her childhood play days and was excited to join the young girls. She had grown up behind some pre-cast concrete walls in one of the dales.
Children for children’s games and adult for adults’ games! This villager, with the fortune or is it, misfortune, of being born rural, bred rural and educated rural, cannot quite find the logic behind the Big Brother Africa reality show concept, on the screens.
In essence this project makes whole adults play house and look silly and stupid. The imperialists are enjoying how we display our stupidity when put in under one roof. Who the hell is this Big Brother Africa? What is he up to? The dollar, this dollar is quite an evil. It is indeed the axis of evil, for, this is a big money spinning venture, in which the ghostly figure of the colossus brother, uses Africans as pawns.
Why then should Africans celebrate a programme that stirs them away from their humanism? Drifting, gliding, wadding of from real life!
From the first instalment to the current one dubbed StarGame, it sounds like another Eurocentric export to Africa, that defiles Africanism and insults the essence of secrecy and dignity befitting a human body.
This villager was chugging his coke at a joint called Panashe near Victoria Falls Airport recently and was annoyed to see the ladies in the StarGame, dressing up live, making up their faces and doing their hair in their panties, only. One or two were onion-shaped, the other was slim, pencil slim. Like real women, they talked, gossiped and chatted and I am sure they at time forget they are under camera.
Packaged and re-packaged as a no under 18 show, it still does not sound palatable for an African audience, for, who would want to see his daughter or sister in that form? This villager will not talk about the other scene he watched again for, his African beliefs do now allow him. It is taboo, for, in the village, sex is not a spectator sport.
This villager is pointing out to you the stars and all you seem to see is the tip of his finger.
Precisely the point, this villager is making is that in Africa, no one is alone.
That is the beauty of the continent. Whatever this villager does has a bearing on his entire clan, his tribe and even foregone ancestors.
How can my son or daughter go into that mad house and be put under the microscope under conditions that invite beastly behaviour. You watch your adult daughter, getting closer and closer to a man she had just met in the house and eventually being laid and you are not ashamed. You actually think she is a heroine.
It is a disgrace, in a normal set up to see your married daughter even sleep with her husband. In the village, married couples are allocated accommodation according to the social space befitting the appropriate registers. It is even abnormal to imagine what happens between the sheets of your married children, yet the whole world watches Big Brother make money out of it.
Big Brother has defiled our self-respect, our own dignity and image as Africans. Several adults, worse still, of different sexes are made to sleep under one roof and the interest is to see how they behave. Very silly! Very, very silly, indeed.
This villager is yet to see a parent with a son or daughter in the house, watching the programme full time and enjoying it. This villager would never allow any of his children or siblings to participate in Big Brother Africa.
In Africa, life is about being conservative; it is about building relationships and remaining within the limits of the family tree policy. It is never about individuals. It is about the groin paining for the sore. It is about everyone. You, me, and them! It is about the family name. The image, the dignity and everything!
The village soothsayer, the ageless autochthon of knowledge, and wisdom, gifted with the supernatural powers to foretell the future and vice versa, has a few words of advice.
“At this rate, in this not so distant future, you will see Big Brother Africa, Gays and Lesbians reality show. It is a matter of time.”
The game is on. Let adults play house and amuse not only themselves, but the world at large.