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Fadzayi Maposah Correspondent

There was nothing like going shopping with WaMambo my father. I always marvelled at how serious he took shopping and how he always prepared for it.

When I was a grown woman I looked at him continue shopping with the same passion and zeal that I had always known.

He had a name for household shopping —`kuGrocery`.

Just `kuGrocery`.

My siblings and I would add the word shopping silently.

If Ma Ncube was not going with him, the list had to be meticulous.

WaMambo emphasised that he did not want to be disorganised in a supermarket dashing from one aisle to the next pushing a loaded trolley and searching for items.

So the list had to be sectional! Talk about order!

When my siblings and I were in boarding school, besides the `kuGrocery` trips, there were shopping trips as part of the back to school preparations.

One did not just get to go to the supermarket.  No.  No ways.

Not in WaMambo and MaNcube`s household. There was preparation.

The opening of the request window was opened.

In today`s world of programming we can say there was a call for proposals!

The call for proposals was announced by either MaNcube or WaMambo. And it was a public call. Announcement was done when everyone was present.

What could have been a better time than meal time or just before meal time? That way no one could say they missed the call.

The deadline would be announced too.

Where to submit the proposal was known to all — on WaMambo`s side of the bed that he shared with MaNcube.

Any proposal without the name at the top would be immediately thrown out!

The handwriting had to be legible.

Reason one, WaMambo said he did not want to strain his eyes and then be forced to buy and wear spectacles! (He never wore any spectacles. Two siblings and I wear spectacles)

Second reason that WaMambo always gave was that as the two who were sacrificing much to pay school fees, he and Ma Ncube deserved to be treated better — why have people who were using money that they, (he and MaNcube) could have used elsewhere fail just to write clearly.

In essence, WaMambo just wanted to see what their funded education was producing.

So by the deadline WaMambo`s side of the bed would have a neat pile of the clearly labelled individual lists. It did not matter who had submitted first or last, the lists were attended to at the same time.

Our parents would go through the lists just as the sub-editors go through news scripts!

After all lists had been attended to, the calls would come. Fadzi! Chaka!

Those two names were enough to have us all in our parents` bedroom!

The call for Chaka represented the boys and my name represented the girls.

When we were assembled either in the lounge or our parents` bedroom (our parents determined the venue for opening and going through the ‘bids’!) either parent called out a name and handed over the ‘amended’ list.

The adjustments were on the individual lists. Some items were either totally removed or downsized. Rarely was an item added to the list.

The parents seemed to think that if the child did not have it on their list the child did not consider it important so why should they?

Reviewing the returned lists was a private moment for my siblings and I.

One would find an own spot to look at the edited list. WaMambo was very particular, you just did not write bath soap, what bath soap? How many tablets?

His reasoning was what if he just took the lists and went shopping, how would he know what soap to buy?

He always said he did not like giving children opportunities to sulk when they did not get what they wanted simply because they had not been specific.

He did not like having to think while shopping.

When I started experiencing `it` I really was not comfortable writing my sanitary ware requirements. I used to think that MaNcube would continue to take care of that department on my behalf.

After one particular list submission before going back to school, though in the sixth year of high school I did not write what I needed for `it`.

When the lists were returned I remember my father’s handwriting which had added female tissues/ cotton wool.

Then a line across the three words which cancelled them neatly.

Next to the three words, in MaNcube`s handwriting, were just the words pads, the brand and the packs to be bought.

That the two had discussed my elevation to womanhood I never doubted.

But I had always thought that MaNcube would attend to all my `it` needs without making it so `public` with WaMambo.

I respected my father that although he was not very sure how to refer to my `it` equipment, he was observant enough to know that something was missing from the list and that because it was important it had to be included.

That WaMambo called them `female tissues ` does not matter.

Because he knew that I needed something `female` meant the world to me!

Through MaNcube`s coaching he was to become fully informed that they were pads and had a brand name.

Sitting in the white Peugeot Station wagon for back to school shopping next to WaMambo in the front with my siblings in the back with Don Williams playing in the cassette player it was great knowing that my father understood my `it ` experience needs.

I would always freely throw in my sanitary ware in the trolley with WaMambo by my side. That some shoppers would look at us strangely did not matter.

My `it ` experience, until I could pay on my own, had WaMambo as its proud sponsor.

He was a sponsor who knew the brand and quantities for each trip.

They were always to be included in the appropriate section `kuGrocery`.