so, i decided a while back that there must be a law in zimbabwe that it must make the bbc every day. be it a the day in pictures, an athlete with gender identity issues or tales of a crazy... hello? what's this?
today i am trolling the beeb and whoa! man sues archbishop for adultery? and it has to be the most famous archbishop in zimbabwe; the one most opposed to the current regime. but the tale is full of accusations and denials and the most exciting bit is the part about the bishop talking about standing in front of blazing guns and i thought to myself - isn't it peace and non-violence the message of the vatican? ah, but it goes to show that he is not a puppet of the pope.
during a low energy moment i decide to revive myself with a google search of pius ncube and boy was i ever woken up. i read about how the hubby must be a fan of the show cheaters cos he hired a private investigator who installed a secret camera in the "holy bedroom". i didn't even know that the bedroom was holified in this manner, but heck no time to stop, this story is interesting. there is talk of pictures where the "naked Archbishop Ncube is seen cuddling and equally naked Mrs Ncube in his bedroom". i am putting my money on sold out newspapers in zimbabwe today.
and at the end of this i thought, i am filing a patent for a pill for those in politics. one that kills all sexual desire, for like a year or four while you complete the whole revolution for the people thing. because nothing distracts from frivolous issues, such as the economy stupid (or super-antiquated adultery laws; don't get me started), like a stained blue dress and a naked cuddling archbishop.
2 comments:
lol Zimb is right on top of it at keeping BBC in news I see...
I got a very interesting e-mail about a Zimb lady who proclaims herself to be a hubs beater lol am going to post it on your comment window if you don't mind? It was hilarious but realistic in a way (may be you've read it)see below-tis long
Subject: I AM A HUSBAND BEATER
I am a husband beater! I am proud of that honestly. My husband and I
are
both Zimbabwean. We were childhood friends.We were not the type that
spent time together, of course. We went to The same school and did
Computer Science at the University together.Obviously,we grew close and
we just ended up in a relationship.We got married and six months later,
decided to pack our bags and run away from crumbling Zimbabwe We
couldn't see ourselves having children and affording them.We came to
America together. We lived in Indiana .We got jobs as assembly workers,
which was a terrible blow to our self esteem. At least I was only a
computer programmer, while my husband had been a manager.
After a few months, I was convinced by fellow Zimbabweans to ditch the
assembly line for a certified nurses' aide job. I went to school and
within a few weeks, I was working in a nursing home, cleaning old
people's filth.It was a tough job and I couldn't get used to it. But,
it
paid the bills handsomely, especially since I took many shifts. Our
daughter was born that year. There is no maternity leave in America . I
had complications and had to stop working. My husband worked 80 hour
shifts to cover the bills until I gave birth. Our daughter was barely
two weeks old before I was back on that floor, working my heart out.
I couldn't take it. The smell! I had been away for too long.
My husband encouraged me to do nursing. He said I would earn more And I
wouldn't have to clean up old people. I didn't want to do nursing, but
it seemed like a good idea. He said we would progress as a couple if I
did nursing. He made a lot of sense at the time. So, I sacrificed my
dreams for the family. I decided to go back to school, which meant that
my husband had to work more hours while I took a Licensed Practical
nursing course. I felt like we were both contributing and I was so
proud
of my husband and I.
It was about 18 months and during those months, I got pregnant again,
and had Another baby, a boy. My husband worked hard those months. As
soon as I had my diploma, I was back on the floor of the old people
full time. I had been working part time while going to school and
increasing my family. I began to make up for it by doing doubles almost
every day, including weekends. Very slowly, my husband stopped working!
He cut his hours from 60 at the time, to 40, which was okay, because he
deserved the break, and I picked up more hours. Then he cut them to
32,and then 30 and then 24.
I said to him that since he was now home most of the time while I
worked
and paid the bills, could he please pick up our children from the baby
sitter and watch them until I came home. He refused, so I had to work
more hours to compensate for him not working and the huge baby sitter
bill.I started doing two shifts a day, from seven to three, and then
From three to eleven. We needed the money! I would come home,
exhausted,
feet swollen and there is my husband, drinking Heineken and smoking
weed
with his new black American friends. I started getting depressed and
bitter! I wondered why I had to pick up the children so late at night
when he was home. I hated coming home to a smoke filled house and
strangers sitting about my living room. We started fighting. He would
call me the "B" word often and I would cry from sheer exhaustion and
the
verbal abuse. He was verbally abusive indeed. I needed him to respect
our house and to get a job! Nothing I said got through to him and our
children suffered. A fellow nurse suggested to me a few months later
that I was Getting too fat because I was depressed. She was also from
Zimbabwe . She suggested I join a gym or something, so that I could
have
some free time to myself. I started taking kick boxing classes.
It was good for me. It was the one thing I could do for myself .Well
one
Saturday, I came home from buyingnew blankets for us. I Had woken up
early so that I could spend the day with my children! Before leaving
for
a three to eleven shift, which was probably going to turn into a double
shift. I was at the mall for about four hours, which was longer than I
had thought. I had left the children with him and as usual, he had
locked himself up in the bedroom, watching BET television. He left our
children in the living room all by themselves. The children were still
in their diapers from the previous night.
In fact, the diapers were hanging about their ankles because they were
soaked with urine. They hadn't eaten or drank anything. They looked
like
orphans, while the father had prepared himself some bacon, eggs and
toast and had swallowed it down with orange juice. I had worked for
that
food! I worked for my children, not him. He had let his own children go
without food or drink.
What sort of a man was he? He didn't even realize what he had done! I
fed and bathed my children, and then got ready for work! . I took them
to the baby sitter's house and drove to work. I was fuming! I had
married a useless man, I finally realized.I came home that night, not
in
a good mood and the apartment was filled with people and smoke. I took
my children and went straight to bed. He came after me and asked me why
I had been rude to his friends. I said I was tired, but he started
again. "You B. you are ugly and should be thankful that I married you.
My mother told me not to marry you because you were a B. But I didn't
listen to her, now look." Hearing the commotion, his friends left. Then
I turned on him. Honestly,I think I was possessed by my grandfather's
spirit or something. I used him like a punching bag, as if I was in a
kick boxing class. I broke his jaw with my kick and then proceeded to
ground him to nothingness, in amatter of minutes!
I don't know what came over me. I felt invincible. I felt I was doing
justice to my babies.He was too ashamed to tell the police I had hit
him
and so I got away with it. His jaw got wired and he ate out of a straw
for a very long time. He said to me he hadn't realized that I was so
strong.
Neither had I.
But,let me tell you, he changed from that day on.
There were no more friends of his in my apartment while I worked. I
realizedthat beating him got me results quickly, so I continued. I went
to more kick boxing classes and added some judo and any other classes I
could lay my hands on.I beat him all the way into a new job. After a
few
black eyes and hunger, he went looking for a job! I beat him Into a
being a better father!
I would tell him that if I came home and my babies were not home in
their bed, we would have a very close conversation. I would come home
and my babies are fast asleep, smelling of soap and in fresh clothes. I
made him nervous, and the bedroom thing just went out of the window,
but
I didn't miss it at all. I know he thinks I am crazy and I let him
think
that because it gives me the life I want. Every opportunity I get, I
beat him! There has been peace in my home since! I am happy. That is my
secret to a happy marriage.
Wow, trust a supposed man of GOd, one we regarded as Jesse Jackson, only Jesse can make sweet love and Pius is not supposed to be I believe. One who gave us hope that the future could be bright, to give us such grave disappointment.
dagnabbit (sp),
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