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Dinner in Nembudziya

Dinner is served
In Nembudziya ,my homeland
Fires flickering in the din of tangible darkness
Darkness defining the vacuums of marriage ties about to wonder off into the dark
The spark has vanished
Scars of the heart become fresh wounds as domestic violent manifests in a once peaceful homestead
Instead of laughter the night echoes insults whirling from Baba to Amai and vice versa
Vice versa the white wedding gown becomes a Kungfu outfit
Love becomes a misfit
Too much chit chat ,mix match of emotions and feelings
Harmony lies six feet below the surface of conflict
Conflicted hearts swell as hope becomes complacent
Impatient wives incompetent husbands becomes the recipe for incompetent rains of chaos in families
Love is weathered away
In happiness and in sorrow
Wedding vows become nothing but a distant and insignificant memory
Dinner together as family is now a tasteless joke of a thought in a hurt and hilarious heart
Families are falling apart ,mayday! Mayday!
Engagement rings are crash landing to the ground it’s another round of the fight
Love is gone

We the sweet innocent children whisper good night in melancholic tones but no response comes to us the little ones
Our eyes begin to shed waves of tears as our minds force us to witness this horrific bioscope of dreadful reality before us
Before us our father violently drags our mother to the bedroom in a fit of anger
Danger alarms burst into ear piercing sounds inside of our little hearts
We scream this and that in an attempt to stop the fight ….Baba! Amai!
Cease fire!
But the fire blazes even more
Devouring all the flowers of moral scruples that are planted inside of little hearts
As we try to stamp out the fires of viciousness that our parents are burning in we are kicked out of the room
The door is closed shut
Our dreams are shuttered, our mother is battered and butchered until she inhales and exhales for the last time
{gasp,deep breaths} for the last time
Pain….oozing out of the wounds that are planted on the surface of our emotions
Blood… oozing out of the wounds that are planted on our mother’s flesh
And yet more and more
More and more our father loses his temper
More and more he punches our mother’s lifeless body
Until our mother becomes a nobody lying on the cold floor
We have no mother anymore
We have one dead body lying on the cold floor
One dead body lying on the cold floor
So as the children lying in the hands of domestic violence we stare at the future and ask
What kind of fathers and mothers, husbands and wives are we going to become in future
Say no to domestic violence

Today as the According to Stewie Le Savage family, we are celebrating 16 days of activism against Gender Based Violence alongside Leben Panashe(The StreetPoet).

Thank you

Published by According to Stewie Le Savage

Tackling your day to day issues and introducing you to new people that might inspire you. Everything according to me #StewieLeSavage a self taught writer who believes that change is possible. Best Humanitarian Blog Award Winner for 2021 under the Zim Bloggers Awards.

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