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Isdore Guvamombe Assistant Editor
The road to Nyanga had turned and twisted with the dictates of geography and I had to endure driving past spectacular hair-pin curves.

Huge rocks tinged grey by fungal lichens stood silent and stubbornly guarding the roadside, as I buried them behind, one by one. And, it is this spectacular grey that made the untrained eye feel awkward where the sky kissed the mountains under a veil of the wafting mist; the scene was never waiflike.

Each time the sun successfully broke the mist, which it rarely did, the exposed lush greenery met the eye again and again amid rolling moorlands, high mountain heath, cascading white water rivers and pine plantations. Suddenly, a roadside insignia shouted: “You Are Now Entering Nyanga National Park!”

Faced with its stunning mountainous views, numerous waterfalls, varied activities and unique flora and fauna I headed for the natural swimming pool on Nyangombe River to relax and bury the hectic driving experience behind in style. At the pool, the silhouette sunset mirrored on the water turning it into a golden hue, juxtaposed with the sand that lay a stealth lump of grain, guarding the water from the perimeter.

There I sat, reflecting on the journey, obviously enjoying the cool breeze that wafted from the pool, again and again, with soothing intermittence.

The sun somehow started setting slowly and tentatively as if to bid the day farewell with the softness of wool. Suddenly, a Nissan X-Trail pulled up and parked in a huff. Five ladies alighted in a haste as if to beat the sunset. Clad mainly in fashionable body-hugging jeans, leggings and tights, their onion-shaped bodies shone in the sunset tinge.

Their light skin; call them yellow bones, and dark lips, long hair and eyelashes were telling. Quickly, they went into the site bathroom and changed their clothes. I expected swimming costumes, but I was mistaken. They came back draped in wrapping cloths —affectionately called Zambia — and the leader, a very light lady, tall and pencil slim, moved with authoritative jauntiness.

I sat by the Natural Swimming Pool on Nyangombe River in Nyanga and a bevy of beauties, among them a famous Harare socialite, a self-confessed slay queen, was part of the mermaid rituals, much to my vexation. She walked past me, onion-shaped in body-hugging clothes, and had a smooth velvety yellow skin that attracted good comment.

Her hair was long to waistline and had no streak of grey. I could not tell what exactly it was, but it must certainly have been expensive weave, looking natural. Her eyes were sharp. Between the eyes was a hint of a frown. And, all she did was pass a simple, but non-commital greeting from between chocolate cream lips. Barefoot, with well-manicured long nails, long heavy ear laces, weighed down heavily by a 2kg packet of rice and an assortment of other goodies in one hand and a pouch of traditional snuff in the other, she sauntered to the pool. Suddenly, my touristic outing got wrapped up in spooky and gothic rituals.

One by one the other ladies followed. “Faster, faster ladies,” she shouted in a shriek, but commanding voice. The rest followed, one by one and sat beside her by the poolside. Each opened a packet of rice and one by one they started systematically sprinkling the gains into the water.

The National Parks and Wildlife Management Authority pool guard tried to restrain them but he failed. They continued in the dark, rice grains forcing insignificant ripples.

Then they stopped. Gave their backs to the pool, threw the rice overhead into the pool. Clap, clap, clap. Clap! Then they all started snuffing nostrils and side swapping hands to clean the remains. Then there was clapping. Clapping, clapping and clapping. Systematic clapping.

The leader knelt facing the pool, went into a trance and they all followed making their various demands to the mermaid spirits, concurrently, in loud voices. The ritual went on and on. Each time they changed their stunts until the rice was finished. Then they poured beer, whisky and wines on their heads and then into the pool, intermittently appealing to the marine spirits to bless them.

Everything seemed choreographed. Soon, they sat, spread in a line their feet deep into the cold water, saying something inaudible to their mermaid spirits. The second round was spilling expensive whisky into the water. Jameson, Glenfidtch, etc. Again speaking intermittently to the spirits. I have never seen this. I then left, fearing for the worst. It was now dark. Very, very dark.

A few hours later that night, I bumped into them again. This time around at a hotel in Nyanga Village. Their table was full. There was no space. Beer and food was all over. They feasted. They had changed clothes and were looking fresh and pristine.
They murmured something about me and I guessed they remembered they had seen me by the natural pool. She demanded not to be named, in the interview that followed.

I later learnt that the dinner was part of the mermaid ritual. The second day they went back to the pool to toss the leftovers to their different mermaids. “Most of these beautiful women you see in Harare, calling themselves slay queens or socialites, driving beautiful cars and eating good food, are actually possessed by mermaid spirits. I have led rituals for many ladies, young and old, and you might never believe it. Mermaid spirits are marine sprits. They bring fortune or misfortune.

“When we move around as groups of ladies in bars, joints and braai places, you see one lady attracting too much attention of men, then you know her mermaid attracts men. Another one makes money; her mermaid is a wealth-maker and so on.

“Others have mermaids that promote prostitution. But we normally promote those that create wealth,’’ she said. Traditionally, mermaid spirits are marine spirits. In that realm, a person possessed is normally taken under water by a mermaid in a sudden swoop and never returns for two or three years, then returns.

According to Zimbabwe Traditional Healers Association information, the missing person undergoes apprenticeship in traditional healing and hunting for wealth.

After successfully obtaining qualifications, the person is then brought back to the surface and a welcoming ceremony led by spirit mediums is then held. Another authentication process is also held, before the person is certified to be possessed by mermaid spirits.

But the latter-day mermaids, the brigade of our urban sisters, claiming to be possessed by mermaids in such simple fashion and rituals, is hard to believe. Theirs could be a world of fantasy. A world of rituals that do nothing, but give confidence to the ladies, who search for fortune in the concrete jungles of Harare and beyond.
They have the swag. They have the style.

They have the belief system and they frolic and forage our entertainment joints in fashionable plummage.
As to how far this belief system takes them, only time will tell.