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Fadzayi Maposah Correspondent

I love photographs. I really love them. Even today I am always happy to have a photograph taken with the ones that make time for a `cheese` or `chibage` moment to smile and snap away.

Photographs are loaded with so many stories, ringing true that saying `a picture says a thousand words.`

There are always so many stories in a single photograph. I have a picture that was taken when I was about five years old.

In the picture I am standing by a maize field and because it is black and white all I can say about the dress I was wearing when the photograph was taken is that it was light coloured.

I am wearing shoes that appear a bit big and they do look like they were black shoes. In the picture I am looking up at the photographer I guess, but I am not really smiling. I am not smiling neither am I sulking. I was just having a picture taken.

I know if I was to share that picture there would be so many different issues that would be raised in terms of feedback.

I have been tempted to share the picture but then decided against it! I have many photographs from my childhood days.

Some of them, my siblings and I were in some photographer`s studio. These studios were something else! People would dress up and go to these studios which were mainly located at business centres.

Most instances my father, WaMambo, would take us to the photographer. Maybe it was because the photo sessions would be done after a visit to the barber`s!

The barber and the photographer were in the same complex, I do not know how that happened. Town planning at work? So in most of our studio photographs we are all bald. When we were young we all went to the barber, male or female.

WaMambo used to tell us that having long hair would make us thin. We loved our chubby cheeks and so joyfully went on each trip to the barber! Later as we got older, WaMambo told us that he had told us the tale of becoming thin because he had not really known how to tell us that having your hair plaited could be painful and that he did not want us to go through that pain.

Besides it meant that as children we would have an added responsibility of looking after our hair…

Back to the photo studio…

On some days when we got there, we were the only ones who needed or is it wanted to have photographs taken. Sometimes there would be others and we would be made to wait. The waiting did not take away any of our excitement.

Waiting gave us time to prepare for the photographs.

During the waiting we would ` arrange ` how we were to stand.

As far as I can remember all our studio pictures had us standing. I was surprised later on life to discover my mother, MaNcube `s studio pictures as a teenager seated on a bench with her aunt, uncle, sisters and a cousin.

Before seeing that picture I always used to think that people were just made to stand! When I saw my relatives` pictures framed and displayed in their lounges, standing with a flower pot on a high stool, it just confirmed my thoughts.

Going through a photograph album triggers a lot of emotions.

My brother Chaka is one individual who takes his camera wherever he goes. He is also very good at assigning people the role to take pictures.

Gamu my youngest sister also loves being with her camera. There seems to be some photojournalism gene in my family!

When Chaka shared pictures after Baba`s funeral, I was so touched by how members of the community and others from all over Zimbabwe came to mourn with us, celebrating a man who was very special to us.

Some people did not know they were having pictures taken, they were just themselves doing anything that they could to make the task at hand easier for everyone.

When I look at the pictures there are people I know, there are some people I had to ask my siblings, my mother and other relatives who they were.

I learnt that they were connected to the family, my siblings and I in so many diverse ways. A sad day that through pictures we learn the importance of support and that we need one another.

Looking closely at any photograph, one can read the emotions.

I was going through my albums this week. Real albums, not the ones in smart phones or computers. The printed ones. Each one carries its own story. There is one picture of my two older daughters and I.

We are all smiling. Tadiwanashe wanted the photographer to capture the fact that finally her teeth had fallen out. Takudzwanashe was just posing for the photograph.

This was way before the themed photographs but we are all wearing navy blue in that picture!

I had struggled with some menstrual discomfort but not really comfortable to tell the girls since one of the girls that they knew had lost her mother.

The mother had been ill. I had to take painkillers when they could not see, because they linked being sick with dying. Taking any pill even supplements could mean that their mother was sick.

After that picture was taken, I just wanted to go home, change my sanitary ware and rest! When one looks at that picture they only see the smiles. There is nothing about menstrual discomfort on that picture.

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. Hormones do not know that! One could have a lot of menstrual discomfort and a heavy period but they will smile at the photographer.

Capture the memories and be the only one who knows the menstrual experience behind the smiles and the poses!