Conversation Zimbabwe is my new favourite leisure time reading. So much has been said about lobola and what it has become. This goes back to the core. Well put.

Ndiri mukaranga saka ndinodhura.[1] It’s a statement, not a question. I hail from the south-eastern part of Zimbabwe, just south of the majestic Great Zimbabwe that my forebears are said to have built and apparently that’s kind of a big deal. It’s a stereotype, but one that seems here to stay. Even if I weren’t mukaranga; with my Master’s degree, well coifed afro, perfected faux-respectable greeting clap & slight tilt of the head, classroom Shona and ability to cook a stew like you’ve never eaten before, in the minds of some of my relatives my roora is hovering somewhere close to unaffordable. According to these two Screen Shot 2015-03-11 at 12.46.06 PMtongue-in-cheek “brideprice/lobola calculators” (one from Nigeria, the other from South Africa), I wouldn’t go for a song either. Misogyny disguised as culture and humour.

Quoi de neuf?

But roora is not a humorous issue. Far from! Belittling it – through crass…

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