The mending of the wounded heart

This poem is about love that has been hurt in the first story and the mending of the wounded heart in the second story. This is a general poem, am not talking about myself or any person I know, just trying to point out how love hurts sometimes.

Second Story Window

The dirt covers the pane so grimy
As l use my hand to wipe away the dirt
That built up with me unaware of it
Shining light through where the glass bleeds dark
I am coming through and l am looking inside
Stepping outside the first story window
And stepping into the second story window

The first story was one where I was cruely denied
Love that my heart seeked so earnestly, so honestly
To meet, hug and kiss is all I asked for and it was denied me
I then realised that love expressed in words only without actions means nought.
So near, yet so far away from my dream of how it was going to be.
I pulled down the blinds on the first story window and wept.
I felt hurt, cold, unloved and alone in a world full people.
The blinds remain closed in that first story window.
Am afraid to enter that story with all its hurts now.
Waiting for him to completely erase the hurt in my heart
So that we can together pull the blinds to let light in again.


Apologies, explanations, reassuarances, I love yous in words.
I believe the words but words alone don't count anymore.
My forgiving heart has already forgiven but I havent forgotten
Which is why I can't enter the first story.
My love for him so large and overflowing but is his love for me as large as mine,
That has to be proved by him.
l look through the second story window and judge from there
The first story to be revisted & rewritten by him to mend my aching heart
Sad memories to be replaced with love actions that convince me of the love.
I never got to know how it feels being in his arms.
He promised to take away the cold that he let build a chill inside me
He will have to do it in this second story where i am in at present.


This PC that l hold in my hand l will use like a sword
To cut away the past that makes me sore
As I look from the second story window I feel the beating of my heart
Love put to the test and passed.
Love is such a wonderful thing when you let it into your second story window.
For in here there is no taking each other for granted
You realise that the love you thought will always be there can be snatched away
from you just like that.
I cant promise days that will always be free from rain
I cant promise days that will always be free from troubles
I cant promise days that will always live forever not into night
The impossible isnt a game I can play to win
But when we write our second story window
The love l can promise is here to stay

Many ways to write the ending of this story
But its a chapter that we cannot close
For this love is written in the ways that we both know
How we show our love in a convincing manner
Second story window is breathing life into the love we both have always dreamed about
A love so true and full of honesty, trust and faithfulness
Second story windows that never shut out that light
The sky inside is as blue as it is bright
Nothing is fading away, everything is parading
How deeply the love lies inside the second story window
The birds fly freely outside as they come to see inside
Giving all our love as freely as it comes so easily

Sure love hurts if put to the test, but once it passes the test nothing
can bring it down, it spreads like veld fire, only this fire is eternal
it will never die down.

WHEN ALL HOPE IS GONE IN THE EARTHLY REALM

When all hope is gone, all we are left with is praying to God. Charles Charamba said it perfectly in one of his songs, "Inohaisi nguva yekutsvaga wamwe wana mazvikokota, inguva yekushevedza Mwari, nokuti tikasamudeedza yapararara nyika." True, this is not the time to sit and talk about how life is going to be intolerable for us the common people with more sanctions looming and making us a pariah state, this is the time to call for Jesus because if we don't we are all going to die of hunger and the country is going to
lie in ruins like the Zimbabwe Ruins.

I had a prophetic vision about Zimbabwe at church yesterday in which I saw Zimbabwe being depicted as a fruit tree which has been completely destroyed. The Bible verse, Joel 1V4 immediately came to my mind to describe the Zimbabwean friut tree that has been destroyed, " That which the palmerworm hath left, hath the locust eaten and that which the locust hath left hath the cankerworm eaten and that which the cankerworm hath left hath the caterpillar eaten." Zimbabwe used to be a healthy tree with perfect fruit. Every gift and fruit of
the Holy Spirit was manifested in Zimbabwe, love, joy, peace, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness and temperance. The perfect tree that was Zimbabwe then was rooted and grounded in ethics, professionalism, efficiency, hard work and above all faith in God. Every limb, branch, leaf and fruit was in perfect state and strength. What glorious days of harmonious unity and love we enjoyed during that time as all institutions functioned efficiently and there was no inflation to talk about. Those were the days when the country flowed milk and honey and it was the bread basket of Africa. How we have often wished that we had stopped people from destroying the perfect tree of Zimbabwe.

The falling away and destruction of the perfect tree of Zimbabwe did not occur in one day. It was a gradual deterioration accomplished day by day and stage by stage. One day the palmerworm appeared in the form of greed and corruption by the government ministers and top officials, eating and destroying the tree as they designed and selected uneconomical projects that created opportunities for financial kickbacks and abused their office by fostering their own monopolistic access to markets and they misappropriated confidential information for their personal gain. So as the days went by the gifts and friuts of the Spirit on the Zimbabwean tree began to disappear from view as unselfish love, ethics, professionalism and peace were attacked by the palmerworms who then grew bolder and bolder day by day. The fruits of the Zimbabwean tree began to disappear from the staunch and upright tree. This state of less fruit was indeed a condition worthy of lamentation, but the pity of it all is that the devastation did not stop with the havoc started and wrought by the palmerworms. Other years and other worms joined in the work of destruction where the palmerworm had left off. Some Zimbabwean citizens saw the greed and corruption being inflicted on the Zimbabwean tree by the ministers and top officials who were supposed to be exemplary to the nation and lost all trust in them and this down-streamed lack of trust in the country's leadership infuenced some of them to also partake in corrupt illicit deals. Thus the locust started to destroy the leaves of the Zimbabwean tree
as some Zimbabwean citizens started to make illicit payments of "speed money" to officials in the different institutions in the country to facilitate fast transactions or to prevent the application of rules and regulations especially with regard to law enforcement and revenue collection. It was a sad day when the locust had done its work and the leaves were stripped from the tree but that was not to be the last of the destruction, that which the locust had left the cankerworm ate. After the fruit and the leaves had been destroyed, the cankerworm immediately made his appearance and began his work upon the branches and tender shoots of the tree. This destructive insect is an allegory of all those who threw ethics, professionalism and efficiency out of the window because of the toll of hyperinflation which made them resort to unclean ways of making a quick buck. It also represents the businesses that resorted to charging exorbitant prices for their goods and services, prices that were unjustifiably high and gave them profits as high as 200% to 500% and overstretched the pockets of the ordinary Zimbabwean who then had to resort to illicit corrupt deals to make money so as to keep up with the high cost of living. The blackmarket flourished as business managers preferred to sell their goods outside the normal outlets so that they could make some individual gains from the sells. Most Zimbabweans were rubbed the wrong way by the toll of hyperinflation and no longer live above the world and sin, they no longer walk the narrow path, so long enjoyed by the children of the Lord. As the sap, the life of the tree, was consumed and the branches rotted more and more, things that used to seem unethical or sinful appeared unethical or sinful no longer. The sinners that used to bar themselves outside the doors of the Church now leaned back in comfortable contentment in the cushioned pews and tithed handsomely with their unclean bucks. Christians lowered the high starndard of holiness unto the Lord which they had been holding aloft. Now it trailed bedraggled and unnoticed in the dust. The Holy Spirit as a gentle dove was squashed, grieved and stifled until he silently withdrew his wonder-working manifestations on the Zimbabwean tree. The result is in Joel 1V16 , food, joy and gladness were withheld from our nation. It was not long before the trunk and the roots of the Zimbabean tree began to decay and the caterpillar made his nest in the decayed and rotted hollows of the tree. That which the cankerworm had left became food for the caterpillars. The caterpillars were in the form of anyone who took advantage of the destroyed unhealthy Zimbabwean tree to meet his or her own selfish needs and in so doing further destroyed the nation. Corruption spread in the administrative domain which included among others, nepotism, cronyism, ghost workers on public payrolls, collection of unauthorised fees, falsification and destruction of records, arbitrary administrative action and circumventing established procedures and regulations. In the judiciary corruption appeared in the form of the executive branch pressurising judges to give verdicts not based on justice but on political expediency. Corruption generated economic distortions in the public sector by divertitng public investment away from essential sectors such as education and public health into capital intensive projects where bribes and kickbacks are more plentiful. It became not uncommon for officials to increase the technical complexity of public sector projects to conceal such dealings, or to over-invoice for machinery and parts, thereby further distorting investments. We then saw the Zimbabwean tree at the most lamentable condition yet, its perfect fruits gone, eaten and stripped off by the palmerworm ministers and top government officials, leaves gone, denuded off its leaves by the locust corrupt officials in the country's institutions, its branches rotten and the bark peeled away by cankerworm blackmarketeers and business people who wanted to get rich quick with unrealistic profit margins as well as all those ordinary Zimbabweans who instead of coming up with ethical, professional, innovative ways of countering hyper-inflation resorted to corrupt ways of making money, a nest for the caterpillars who further destroyed the tree. The grand total is a loss of image and prestige for Zimbabwe, weakening of the moral fibre of the people, lowering of ethical standards in governance, increased social instability and insecurity due to widening rifts between the 'haves' and 'have-nots', and a particularly heavy economic burden on the poor and the disadvantaged. In the spiritual realm, the gifts and fruits of the Holy Spirit gone, holiness gone, justification by faith gone. Well, might the angels look down from Heaven and weep. The noble Zimbabwe, the perfect tree which had once stood clad with power and glory of the Holy Spirit, now had nothing left but a name, not even a remnamt of her former splendour. As if that is not enough, our right to freedom of expression and voting for any candidate we want is suppressed with beatings, torture, maimings and killings. The graphic language in Isaih 1V6-8, accurately describes the Zimbabwean people with their fruit tree destroyed and themselves beaten up for political reasons. " From head to foot you are sick and weak and faint, covered with bruises and welts and infected wounds, unanointed and unbound. Your country lies in ruins, your cities are burned while you watch, they are destroying and plundering everything they see. You stand there helpless and abandoned like a watchman's shanty in the field when harvest-time is over or when the crop is stripped and robbed."

Oh yes this is where the Zimbabwean stands right now but the prophetic message I want to convey to you Zimbabweans is that during this time of complete humiliation the Lord gave us a marvelous promise of restoration. It's all mentioned in Joel 2V21-25, "Fear not, Oh land, be glad and rejoice, for the Lord will do great things. And I will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten, the cankerworm and the caterpillar and the palmerworm, my great army which I sent among you." All that the Zimbabwean perfect tree
lost will be restored, not in one day but in the same way it was lost, line by line, precept upon precept, here a little and there a little, till a completion of this restoration is reached. This restoration is only possible if we have a deeper realisation of what it means to live a life wholly given up and consecrated to the Lord so that the tender shoots and branches of the Zimbabwean tree can be thrust forth on the tree again. As we pray and yield ourselves to the Spirit, God will allocate gifts to everyone of us as the Spirit chooses, he will cause the gifts and fruits of the Spirit to be visible in our midst, in our nation. Yes, Zimbabwe's perfect fruit tree can be restored, it's all in our hands, us Christians , to restore it or to further destroy it. Our prayers will do it, they will encourage all Zimbabweans to act responsibly and change their unethical, unprofessional inefficient and corrupt ways, they will enable an effective government that is accountable through citizen feedback, democratic institutions, a competitive free press and an independent judiciary to be put in place, they will cause businesses to stop pursuing unrealistic profits relentlessly at the expense of the customers and make them realise that when it comes to maximising long-term owner value, honesty is not just the best policy, it is the only feasible policy. Through prayer we can make the relevant people aware that political and business decisions blessed by God and based on honesty and merit if added to good governance, responsive policies and good capacity building sustainable business goals will ultimately lead to the economic turnaround of our nation. Through prayer we can make the mobilised minds of those who agree to be sent to subject their fellow Zimbabweans to inhuman atrocities to always remain loyal to the truth and God, as loyalty to a person, regardless of his or her wrong intentions is not a path to be followed and only encouraged by leaders with a weak moral fibre.

Honestly speaking this is not a time to feel sorry for ourselves because pity won't change our situation. This is the time to pray whole-heartedly for our nation Zimbabwe. Let the prayers start with our church leaders as in Joel 2V17, " Let the priests, the ministers of the Lord, weep between the porch and the altar, and let them say, spare thy people, O Lord and give not thine heritage to reproach, wherefore should they (the unbelievers) say among the people, 'Where is thy God.'"

I celebrate my friends, they are priceless

Sometimes people come into your life and you know right away
they were meant to be there...to serve some sort of purpose,
teach you a lesson or help figure out life's puzzles or who you
want to become or merely to help you carry on through life with
a smile. There are those simple friends who enter into our lives
and then leave, then there are those real friends who enter our
lives and stay a while...stay forever, leaving permanent beautiful
footprints on our hearts...and we are never quite the same after
that because we would have made good, until death do us part friends.
Time stands still at that glorious moment when you realize you've
found a new friend.How rare and wonderful is that flash of a moment
when we realize we have discovered a friend. Yes, there's a miracle
called friendship that dwells in the heart. You don't know how it
happens or when it gets started but you know the special lift it
brings.

Each of the different friends enter our lives for different reasons
and are a blessing to us in their own different ways.

Agnes is that rare jewel of a friend who unlike all my other
friends when I need friendship support doesn't say, "Just ask, I'll
help you through it," she doesn't wait for me to ask, she just acts.
She is the kind of friend that I am free to call at anytime, she
doesn't hate it when I call after she has gone to bed like I did
lately when I had tonsilitis and my tempereture had become so high
that I was afraid I would die. Instead of complaining about my calling
at 2am she and TGJ drove to my apartment and took me to hospital and
paid all the medical bills. There is no better doctor than the true
friend I have in Agnes. Oh yes Agnes is that kind of friend that
makes me believe that friends are God's way of taking care of us and
that friends are quiet angels who lift us to our feet when our wings
have trouble remembering how to fly. When it hurts to look back, and I
am scared to look ahead, I look beside me and Agnes will be there. She
is the best kind of friend with whom I can sit with for a while, never
saying a word, and then walk away feeling like that was the best
conversation we've ever had. Everyone hears what I say, all my friends
listen to what I say, but the rare jewel of a friend I have in Agnes
listens to what I don't say. Agnes my dear, you have become more
than a friend, you are now the sister I never had, you are the sibling
God forgot to give me. I value Agnes's friendship so much that if she
lives to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day, so I
never have to live without her friendship.

Chipo is the childhood friend who has stayed by my side over the years
as we together overcame the problems of growing up. She and I are a
living testimony that true friendship never ends, that friends are forever.
She is a real friend who believes in me, loves me for who I am, knows the
song in my heart and can sing it back to me when I have forgotten the words.
With Chipo I can dare myself to be myself because she knows me so well,
my warts and all. She is the one I go to when I am at my lowest ebb because
she knows exactly how to raise my spirits, she tells me the truth when I need
to hear it, yells at me when I won't listen and zaps me to reality when I let
my imaginative mind take control. She is the type of friend that doesn't act
like a guest when she visits me, regards my house as her house too, opens the
fridge and helps herself and if she finds the fridge and the kitchen cupboards
empty as they usually are these days she goes out shopping and comes back
loaded with groceries to fill the fridge and cupboards. Oh yes Chipo and I can
do anything or nothing and have the best time because we have shared more than
half of our lives together so much that she envisions the whole of me,
even the unfinished parts. I value Chipo's friendship so much that if she were
to jump off a bridge, I wouldn't jump with her because that would end our
friendship, instead, I'd be at the bottom to catch her so that we both live to
continue our friendship.

Clemencia is my beloved friend whose mind is exactly like mine such that
sometimes we wonder if our brains are not clones of each other. Many a
time we start talking at the same time about the same things, we like
the same things, we all have a passion for reading and writing, we
both enjoy interior decorating and share the same views about many
issues in life. She is the friend I turn to when I need an intelligent
talk. My friendship with her makes me agree with the adage that says,
"Great minds think alike," especially if they are female. With Clemencia
we can discuss any topic under the sun, sharing the latest information and knowledge that we would have gained and enjoy ourselves immensely in the
process. Oh yes, my friendship with Clemencia makes me feel as if we are one
soul inhabiting two bodies. She makes a difference in my life, quiets my fears
and never judges me and brings out the best in me. She is the only friend among
my friends who has her shoulders soggy from my tears, she has seen me cry when there was no funeral to cry about and that is because she is sympathetic to emotional pain and easily offers her shoulder for me to cry on plus I know that with her I can afford to let her see my vulnerability because she understands me like she understands herself. She moved to Cape Town last year but the distance between us hasn't affected our friendship at all, thanks to communication technologies. I value Clemencia's friendship so much that if the whole world were to walk out on her I would stay behind and walk with her through the deserted world.

Babra is that loyal friend who is worth a thousand of my relatives. She and I
operate on the same wavelength and can communicate without saying a word. You
know how it is when you have been close to a person for so long that you know
what that look on their face means, what that frown means amd what that smile or
gesture means, well that is how it is between Babra and me. When I am scared
she laughs at me and teases me about it every chance she gets. When I am
worried she tells me how much worse it could be and orders me to count my
blessings instead. She makes me smile and encourages me to succeed. She lends an ear, she gives a word of praise, and always wants to open her heart to me. She moved to UK years ago and made me realise that real friends are like stars, you don't always see them but you know they are there. When my brother Elyween whom I was very close to passed away and it hurt so much that I got so depressed that all I could do was stay in bed for days, she flew back from UK and helped me carry on with my life despite the loss. I value Babra's friendship so much that if she wanted a kidney to be donated for her survival I would donate one of mine, without hesitation.

Monika is a trusted beloved friend with whom I have this bond that keeps growing. I find myself confiding in Monika about issues affecting my vision for peace, love and happiness unto the whole world. She lives in Germany and time stood still for me
at that glorious moment when we met on Michael Skye's Vision Force Forum and I realised that I had found a friend. She bought Michael Skye's Visionary Mind
lessons for me, that I longed to have but didn't have the money to buy. It is
Monica I turn to when it comes to issues pertaining to my visionary mind because
I know that she being a fellow visionary, will understand me perfectly and stand with me if need be. She believes that Jesus is the greatest visionary that ever walked the earth, just like I do. Oh yes, my friendship with Monica has made me realise that good friendship knows no distance, nationality, race or colour, it thrives in spite of all that. I value Monica's friendship so much that if God was to ask me to make three wishes, one of the wishes I would make is for me to meet Monica face to face in my lifetime.

Yes my friendship with you ladies, Agnes, Chipo, Clemencia, Babra and Monika is very important to me but beyond friendship love there is intimate love which I share with this one special person. As good as my friendship with you girls is, there is a void in my life that you can't fill, a void that can only be filled by the one person whose friendship with me has all the qualities of friendship of the five of you combined. He is the one person with whom I can be intimate, the one person with whom I feel connected in my soul, heart, mind and body. Oh yes, this one person is my soulmate, my heart belongs to him, my mind is full of thoughts of him and my body and his have this chemistry that can be felt from a distance, beyond borders, over communication wires. This one person is Dumi and he means the world to me. I value my love relationship with Dumi so much that if I were to be asked to choose betwwen him and you my cherished friends I would choose him.

Our friends, in a very real sense, reflect the choices we make in life. Friends are special people. We can't pick our family members, we are just born in the family. We do choose our spouse but we're sorely limited in the number of them because intimate love is such that it dictates we select a single mate. But we can pick as many friends as we can and they can be as diverse and infinite as the adjectives we choose to describe the friendship, that is close friend, best friend, childhood friend, neighborhood friend, trusted friend, beloved friend, workmate, school friend, church friend etc. I have a lot more friends that I didn't write about in this article not because I don't value them but because they don't read my blog or if they do, they never comment. Jesus is one such friend and I value him because when I need to be hugged and Dumi can't reach out and touch me I turn to Jesus so that he leads me not into temptation. Jesus has his ways of touching my life that are out of this world. Recently I had to pay Amanda's top-up fees and had no idea where I was going to get the money but I wasn't worried because I knew that somehow Jesus would provide and he did. From out of the blue I was approached by some wedding planner who wanted to rent my apartment for three days to accommodate a Pastor who was coming from Chiredzi to marry the couple.
Then there was the time when I had used up all the money I had to buy Amanda's set books and out of the blue some person who sees me everyday as I walk home or to work and we exchange pleasantries gave me an envelope saying that it was a present for me. You can imagine my surprise when I got home and opened the envelope and found US$100 in it. Those can only be the works of God and Jesus, I am sure you agree.

Let me end this article by saying I value you, all who are my friends and this article, is to celebrate you my friends, for your friendship to me is priceless.

Peace within, amidst the rubble of life.

I sat and pondered about life and the way mine has been unfolding lately
and realised that we cannot avoid pain, however hard we try. But we can
avoid joy. We cannot escape hardship and trouble, but we can miss out on
much of life's peace and laughter. I don't want to avoid joy, I don't
want to miss out on life's peace and laughter, so to ensure my joy, peace and
laughter during these stormy days of my life I make sure that daily I spend
time doing something I enjoy, I do all those things that bring me inner peace
like listening to soft music and taking solitary & leisurely walks admiring
nature, I laugh heartily and frequently about the humourous side of life,
I cultivate an attitude of hope, I fill each day with as much love as it can
possibly hold and most important of all I find time to talk to God. At the end
of it all I still have plenty of problems, but through it all, I find all the
joy, peace and laughter I will ever need. No one can live without joy. But
many people try. And the reason is often simply because they don't know how to
be happy! They are so intent on the three P's - power, prosperity and prestige
that they miss out on joy, peace and laughter.

There are many situations in life that make me angry but I realise
that anger is just one letter short of danger, it seems to be as true
in English as well as in practice. Not that we should never be angry.
It is a normal part of life. We all get "worked up," "overheated" or
just plain "hopping mad" at times. Those closest to us know it best.
The good news is that simply getting angry does not seem to be the
problem. Well-directed anger can be a helpful emotion. But staying
angry is dangerous -- to our health and to our relationships. So I
have learnt ways to move out of the danger zone of my anger, when I
feel as if anger is running the show. Uncontrolled anger will take over,
so I control it. I don't keep it in and let it fester, I talk it out.
Helplessness will only provoke more anger and, eventually, despair so I
do what needs to be done to resolve the situation. Just as there is a
starting point for anger, there must an ending so I make sure that I end
the anger. It can help to remember that for every minute we're angry, we
lose sixty seconds of happiness and sixty seconds of peace. The sooner we
get out of the danger zone of our anger, the sooner we can get back to truly
living.

I find myself busy keeping my body going - but I know it is just as
important to feed my spirit. Even if all I have is a morsel of hope,
for today that just may be enough. Jean Kerr once said, "Hope is the
feeling you have, that the feeling you have, isn't permanent."
Because of events in my life these days, I am surviving on hope and
hope alone. Hope is what we have when we know that we will
eventually survive the night and bask in sunshine once again. It does
not deny the present darkness, but it reminds us that dawn is coming.
I am amazed at the strength of the human spirit. It seems to run
forever on nothing but a morsel of hope. But it still must be fed.
Some see situations as they are, I see them as they can be. Some see
people as they are, I see them as they can be. And some see themselves as
they are, I see myself as I can be. When we look beyond the present reality,
dismal as it may seem, and set our sights upon the best that is within a
situation or a human being, then, too, what we see will come to be. And we'll
know the power of hope.

I love art and am in the habit of moving from one garage sale to another
looking for paintings and large photographs that I find interesting. Recently
I came across a photograph taken by Henri Cartier-Bresson. It is a shot of a
poor section of Spain in the 1930s. The picture depicts a run-down alley
surrounded by decaying walls, strewn with rubble randomly stacked in thick
piles lying on the street, and riddled with bullet holes dotting gray walls.
The setting alone evokes feelings of sadness and despair.
But then...the contradiction. Within the grim alley children are
playing. They wear dirty and tattered clothes, as one might expect in
such a setting, but like playing children everywhere, they laugh with
carefree joy. In the foreground, a tiny boy on crutches hobbles away
from two other boys, his face lit up with a broad grin. One boy is
laughing so hard he has to hold his side. Others lean on the cracked
walls, beaming with delight. It is the contrast and the point in the photograph
that I find interesting..... Joy amidst the rubble of life. Laughter amongst life's
ruins. When life gets stormy as it sometimes does, I look at this picture and
can't help but start smiling.

Our eyes see, our ears hear, our mouths speak, our brains work and my hands will type.

I got shocked with these photographs, how can people be so inhuman, so heartless and all this for the love
of power. I am not into politics, am just a peace lover and these happennings in the country I live in had me crying for hours.


A group of men came hunting for 22-year-old Memory Marume, a married mother-of-two. They burst into her home, seized her and her children, and took them to their temporary headquarters in the local village school. She told me how on arrival at the school (which she had attended as a child), she had been ordered to sit in the playground with a group of supporters of Zimbabwe's Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) - the opposition party led by Morgan Tsvangirai. On the dot of 8am, the beatings started. Groups of eight people at a time were ordered out for treatment at the hands of a band of around 200 members of Green Bomber militia, each wearing Zanu-PF T-shirts and green, red and yellow bandanas signifying the national flag. Many of them were high on drink or drugs. She watched as four of her close friends were beaten and kicked to death. A fifth friend later died, and others remain unaccounted for. The militia men chanted songs and spat insults at Morgan Tsvangirai as they did their work. They told Memory, whose farmer husband was away: "You and your husband are MDC members so we must beat you.' They said that she belonged 'to a party of animals". Four men held down her arms and legs, while a fifth gripped her head, placing his hands over her mouth to prevent her screams being heard. Two others, wielding heavy wooden poles, then took turns to thrash her on the buttocks in a beating that lasted half an hour. Memory told me how she could hear her children screaming "Mamma, Mamma, Mamma!" during her beating. They were held back by female members of Zanu-PF. Later, Memory was ordered to sit for two hours on her wounds. The political thugs told her she would be thrashed again if she moved a muscle. "We spent the day without eating or water in the hot sun," she told me. "If we asked for water, they said: 'Get your water from Tsvangirai'." Believe it or not, just by being alive, Memory is one of the lucky ones. This is but one woman's experience of the work of the devil incarnate and his cohorts, there
are many others whose experiences are even more horrific and remain untold because of fear. Reporting such cases to the police does not help, they simply turn a deaf ear and government officials have the audacity to appear on national and international media denying that such atrocities are happenning, yet they are indeed happenning. Our eyes see, our ears hear, our mouths speak and our brains work.
Memory is at Westend Hospital as we speak and her husband who was in hiding was caught by the same devils who crashed her buttocks and had his private parts turned to pulp.

For more photos of this kind that show the extensive barbaric acts being perpertrated by Zanu PF green bomber
militia to MDC supporters in the rural areas you can visit the following website, http://www.flickr.com/photos/sokwanele/