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Elliot Ziwira-At the Bookstore

“The weakest link in a chain is the one that breaks,” affirms an African proverb. 

This timeless phrase sets the tone for a thought-provoking exploration of imprisonment, both literal and metaphorical, in “A Tragedy of Lives: Women in Prison in Zimbabwe” edited by Chiedza Musengezi and Irene Staunton.

Through a collection of raw, personal accounts from former prisoners and prisoners, this timeless book delves into the intricate web of fear, lack, and societal expectations, which ensnare women, leading them down a path of desperation and crime.

The heart-wrenching stories expose the resilience and vulnerability of womanhood, highlighting the harsh realities of a patriarchal society; perpetuating inequality and domination.

A navigation of the lives of these women reveals that imprisonment extends far beyond physical walls. It manifests in the psychological and emotional shackles of fear, poverty, and societal norms, usually stifling aspirations and individuality.

The book masterfully discloses how women are trapped in a cycle of desperation, seeking escape through crime, only to find themselves trapped in a more profound form of imprisonment.

The authors skilfully weave together the narratives, creating a powerful tapestry that highlights the need for empathy, understanding, and reform.

On reflection, the reader realises that lack of opportunities, and societal expectations drive women to commit crimes, only to be further marginalised by the criminal justice system. In the end, the devastating consequences of expectation, leading to crime, are exposed, prolonging a cycle of recidivism and despair.

Through the voices of female characters featured, a deeper understanding of the complex relationships between lack, gender, and crime is gained. Society has a way of restricting women’s choices, leading them to seek escape through dangerous and often deadly means.

Primarily, the nature of their being exposes them to all forms of fear. Womanhood may be a form of imprisonment, since it creates an element of inadequacy; physical, social or otherwise.

Burdened by responsibilities in a rather careless patriarchal world, a mother is engulfed in both fear and anxiety, which leads to psychological and emotional imprisonment.

She has to fend for her children.

Memory, one of the characters in “A Tragedy of Lives”, says of her mother: “My mother worked hard in the fields and raised enough money to buy me school uniforms and books.”

Another character, Martha, exposed herself to HIV/AIDS by engaging in commercial sex work. She reflects: “I think to myself; what disease could be worse than starving my children to death?”

Women, therefore, remain psychologically imprisoned. Their actions are mostly driven by their nature — motherhood— a form of incarceration they can never escape from.

Even after raising their children, they remain burdened. Society, as in Rhoda’s case, still expects them to provide for their grandchildren.

To most of the characters in the book, lack becomes both a way of life and a snare. They have to find ways to ride above it, or at least endure it.

Memory reveals, “I ran away from home to live with my boyfriend”, because “he gave me money to buy food and pocket money, about two to three dollars a day”. Curiously, she thought this “was a good beginning.”

In her honesty, Elizabeth says: “I married young, for I was running away from poverty.”

What becomes clearer is the attraction of marriage, since it appears to offer a form of security. Nonetheless, as is the case in most marriages, particularly those premised on convenience, disasters always lay in wait.

Sadly, when the inevitable happens, either by design or default, the woman is left even more desperate. This is true of Memory, Viola, Lillian and Chipo. Unable to think beyond the presumed limitations of their sex, the women continue seeking solace in men, not in marriage per se, but in mere relationships and commercial sex work.

Thus, by clinging on to male ego to flee from their deficiencies and anxieties, mainly driven by fear, women remain imprisoned. Escaping through the matrimonial vent does not only scald them, but breaks them, too. 

Of all the stories in the book, Maureen’s is deeper. Her tale does not only end in arson and murder, like Beti’s, but it also exposes the voyeur in man, which draws excitement from trauma, anguish and disaster. Realising that she could not adhere to her husband’s rulebook, she decided to break out, with fatal consequences.

Maria and Beti found themselves in situations where they had to either shape up or ship out, and they chose neither. Maria “had serious disagreements with (her)husband. . .took a pole and hit him on the head and he was unable to wake up again.” And, Beti poured boiling cooking oil into her husband’s ear, causing his death.

Explored in minute detail by the victim-perpetrators, the crimes of passion typified are not only sad and unfortunate, but chilling and boggling, becoming yet other forms of imprisonment.

The media, both mainstream and social, is awash with horrendous, indignant and spine-chilling crimes, which lacerate the moral flesh of society. Consequently, the family unit, community and nation suffer, because innocent pawns are dragged into the mire as a result of the follies of others.