Intimacy, cultural dilemma of kissing in public Public displays of affection, like kissing, are taboo in African society
Public displays of affection, like kissing, are taboo in African society

Public displays of affection, like kissing, are taboo in African society

Dr Sekai Nzenza on Wednesday
Sunday afternoon at Robert Mugabe International Airport arrivals area. The plane has landed. We wait to welcome my cousin Reuben’s wife, Mai Tinashe and children coming from Australia.

Christmas is almost here and we are all looking forward to a good holiday. The rains have been abundant in many parts of Zimbabwe and the country is looking peacefully green. I am here at the airport with my cousins Reuben, Piri and our niece Mutsa. Next week there will be more relatives coming from Australia, Canada, South Africa, India, United States and the UK.

We plan to have a big Christmas in the village. Once in a few years we all come home and gather, the way it used to be when we were growing up in the village. Mai Tinashe and the three children have not been here for a few years. Reuben used to live in Australia with them, but he decided to come back here two years ago and supervise the building of their mansion in Borrowdale. The house is complete.

The lights in the arrivals area are a bit dim, but we can see very well. There are two big figures of a rhino and a hippo parked among the people. They are taking a lot of space. There is not enough room for all of us to stand and wait for passengers. Maybe the airport should have been bigger, given the increasing number of travellers. We stand among many other people waiting patiently for passengers to come through the arrivals lounge’s sliding doors.

Zimbabweans live in many parts of the world. We have become global. The people arriving here for Christmas could be coming from Papua New Guinea, China, Alaska or Yemen. You can see young women with two or three children, waiting for the dad who had either gone away on a trip or he is coming back from a long assignment in the Arab countries.

There are elderly parents dressed up in their best clothes waiting to welcome a son or daughter who has been away from Zimbabwe for many years. Directly facing the main doorway are drivers holding boards with the names of the guests. There is Meikles Hotel, Goal, MSF and others. Passengers start coming through with their luggage. There is excitement as each passenger arrives and relatives shout and embrace them with joy.

Then a young European girl comes out. Her partner or boyfriend walks towards her. He is holding a bunch of red roses. They kiss and embrace passionately. We all stand on the side and watch, pretending not to notice this act of spontaneous passion and love. The couple holds tightly to each other for some seconds, mumbling something. He lets go of her and gives her the flowers. She smiles and kisses him again on the mouth. The guy has his arm around the girl’s shoulders as he pulls her luggage and they walk out of the airport.

“Will you kiss Mai Tinashe when you see her, the way Europeans do when they see their wives?” Mutsa asks. She is either curious, mischievous or simply being jealous. Mainini Mutsa is a niece to Mai Tinashe. Over the past year, Mutsa has been studying to rewrite her O Level examinations. She is waiting for the Mathematics results. She lived with Reuben at one stage and we all felt that it was not a good idea. What if Reuben fell into temptation?

Mutsa is a beautiful girl. Besides, she is a muramu, meaning she is Mai Tinashe’s niece and culturally, Reuben could play the role of Babamukuru and engage in sexual banter or talk that maybe considered inappropriate in other relationships.

Babamukuru and muramu are free to discuss anything as long as it helps muramu to gain knowledge of adult life and protect herself from predators. Babamukuru must protect muramu and not take advantage of her. We believe that Reuben has been exemplary in this regard.

“Africans do not kiss in public,” says Piri. I tell her that some people often do, if they are comfortable with each other in public. Why should kissing or no kissing in public be anyone’s business?” Reuben asks, rather impatiently. I sense some anxiety in his voice. It cannot be easy for a couple to live apart, the way many couples do these days. They do not know what to expect from each other when they meet after several months or even years apart.

Besides the absence from each other, kissing in public is culturally rare. We never saw a real kiss in the village, even if husband and wife had not seen each other for more than a year. No, they did not kiss. They did not even hold hands in public. But, yes, they slept together. After some months of sharing the bed, we could see a woman looking visibly pregnant and she was proud to be so.

Lovers met in secret places behind the anthill, in the hidden valleys, under the willow trees by the river bed and in the dark. I do not recall my parents showing any acts of hugging or kissing. In fact, they hardly spent time together during their years of marriage. The only time that I see them together now is when they are dead, buried next to each other.

Theirs was a life of struggle in the colonial days, whereby men worked in town or elsewhere while women were not allowed to join them in town. My parents must have missed each other. And yet, such companionship or open intimacy in marriage was not the driver of marriages. A woman stayed at home, looked after the children, worked in the fields and waited for the husband to come home even if this meant years of waiting. They waited.

The only man we saw kissing was Samuriwo the bus conductor. Before independence Samuriwo’s bus travelled between Salisbury and Muzorori and Sons stores stopping at all village bus stops. We used to board the bus a few kilometres from the boarding school. The distance was only 60km, but it took almost two hours to get to the last bus stop because Samuriwo stopped to deliver letters or groceries for the women whose husbands worked in Salisbury.

Samuriwo was already in his late thirties or maybe early forties. He was a very light skinned guy with freckles and brown sharp eyes, always clean shaven with a moustache. He smelt very nice, unlike some of the village men. Samuriwo travelled to Salisbury three times a week. He had his dinner at Muzorori & Sons Store which was the bus’ last stop and ours as well. Here he would take whichever lover he brought from Salisbury to the eating house at the back of stores.

Samuriwo took his long play records; LPs from the bus and played country music by Don Williams and Dolly Parton in the store. You could always tell that Samuriwo’s women were from Salisbury because they wore Afro wigs and platform shoes. Samuriwo called each one of them “Lovie”, “Honey” and “Darling”. Right there, in the middle of Muzorori and Sons store, Samuriwo would hold a woman and waltz. Then he held her close and kissed her while we watched. People said Samuriwo knew how to love a woman the way Europeans did.

Kissing publicly is still a cultural problem. Where and when do we kiss? Can you comfortably kiss your partner in front of people? What about those people we call vanyarikani, meaning the relatives and others who make us feel bad if we demonstrate some culturally unacceptable behaviour like kissing in public? Any public expression of physical intimacy must be avoided when they are there, especially if one’s mother-in-law or son in law is present.

“I like the way varungu kiss in public,” says Mutsa.
“A kiss clearly shows that you are loved.” She has a wistful look on her face. Reuben ignores her. Then we see Mai Tinashe come through the arrivals sliding doors. Mutsa screams with joy rushing to her. We happily embrace Mai Tinashe and the children. Reuben stands back a little because we are in the way. He is the last one to hug his wife, warmly. We do not see the welcome home kiss. Maybe it will happen later. In private, as it should be.

  • Dr Sekai Nzenza is an independent writer and cultural critic.

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