The Zimbabwe Spirit

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The Zimbabwe Spirit

Postby cigspriced » Fri Jul 20, 2018 1:24 am

References, many and varied have been made about Zimbabwe. While everyone's entitled to their own opinion; whether as a result of personal experiences or falling victim to recycled information which has been strewed, misconstrued and re-construed, ultimately leaving an impression that Zimbabwe is just screwed. I am, therefore, not going to attempt defending nor promoting my precious country, I can't change opinions, what I can do is paint a picture of my life living on the stage called Zimbabwe with an ever changing backdrop. For me it all started in 1971. My birth place was a small rural town smack-bang in the middle of Rhodesia. It also happened to be the night a mighty thunderstorm unleashed itself after many months of drought, which was driving my father into despair on his 18,000 acre cattle ranch. Receiving me, their fourth child, nine years after their third, during an intense and much needed down pour from the heavens above, against the backdrop of a bloody civil war. I came to the conclusion that the timing of my arrival was a paradoxical gift to my family Cheapest Cigarettes In The World. I learnt that this was not an isolated scenario, this was in fact The Spirit of Zimbabwe; where "timing" and "events" have very little communication with one another. Added to that "events" thrive on the element of surprise. Yet one way or another, sooner or later, things have a way of falling into place. This was to be my first lesson in faith. My early years were spent roaming and exploring the vast expanse of dusty roads snaking amongst dense bush Newport Cigarettes Official Website, Mopani trees, rocky outcrops and a lazy river. Our home we shared with bats, rats, owls and even tadpoles, which my brother and I would collect from the nearby reservoir by day only to release at night in the cracks of our passage floor. We'd carefully and silently fill these cracks with water. Not wanting to disturb our mother, who despite living in a corrugated 'shack,' insisted on having a spotless and tidy home. These tadpoles would be left "swimming" away all night long, somewhere in the early hours of the morning their last drop of water would be absorbed into the floor and there we would find them Price Of Marlboro Cigarettes, motionless and dry in a crack, at the crack of dawn. Somehow we had decided that this was a fitting way for these tadpoles to perish at that particular time of day! I cherished the freedom in my beautiful surroundings, found the extraordinary and abundant array of nature both fascinating and comforting. This unique environment, spent mostly in solitude, not only taught me how to hear and respond to my "inner voice," it also revealed secrets regarding God's glorious creation and the lessons, which He has to teach, through what His Mighty Hands had created. The seasons were more than a mere fluctuation of temperature, shades and colours. They were reminders that my life too was a cycle of change. Then as a seemingly trivial stream would slowly flow after the first rain, becoming more than a place where Bull frogs would croak and spawn till the season ended, to me it spoke of how ostensibly insignificant things are the starting point for greater things Buying Cigarettes Online, in the way that all streams lead to rivers and ultimately flow into the ocean. Then there were the plants which sprung up above the soil over night, flowered and vanished as quickly as they had appeared, while other varieties stood tall and bold, almost arrogant, for hundreds of years. This was God clearly communicating the order in which human life too would follow Newport Cigarettes Price. Most of my early recollections include only my mum, sometimes a sibling or two drifts in, sadly there are not many of my father. This was not intentional, it was as a result of a war. For some reason I was fairly oblivious to the severity of the fighting going on around me. Yes, I knew why my father was not always present, why the helicopters flew over our home; sometimes I could even see camouflaged legs suspended over the sides of these machines. I knew why we had an Agric Alert, why we shouldn't drive around at night, yet, not once, did I experience fear. My mum ignored most of the safety rules most of the time. Apart from the clay bricks and corrugated tin roof which protected us only from "guti,"(light drizzle) we had no other form of protection, no fence, security guard, nothing. What we did have were our knees, on which we spent many hours. It would be only my mother and I alone on this land, living as though everything was normal, while in retrospect, it clearly wasn't. Finally, I too was to be carted off to boarding school, dumped with a bunch of kids who spoke a foreign langue - English! I soon learned the basics, "yes, no, please and thank you" - I remained unafraid. Independence arrived in 1980, my land was now called Zimbabwe, another backdrop fell as celebrations took place. Nothing much changed in my life, except that I now had a father, my mother a husband and my english vocabulary had expanded from four words to six. Suddenly I became confused, people were leaving and starting new lives all over the world. Every conversation included the announcement of, "Have you heard, so and so are going to ." or, I'd return to boarding school after a weekend at home, only to find girls huddled in a dorm whilst coming to terms with a friend packing her trunk as her parents have decided to leave for "greener pastures." No one could seem to wait till the end of term or year. People were almost tripping over one another in an attempt to escape. This continued. The strange thing was, not once did I anticipate being given that same news by my parents. Once I did ask my father if we were also going to leave. His reply, "What have you lost in another country?" The subject was closed and I was satisfied - I remained unafraid. As I sit here now, 41 years later. I have witnessed many backdrops come and go. Some have been exciting; full of hope and peace. While there have been those splattered in grey and black. Looking back at these, I've come to the realization that no matter what the backdrops portrayed, the stage remained unchanged. Zimbabwe is not only the place I call home, it's the place where my family and I experience life. As the sun rises each morning I can be assured of one thing, somewhere between the east and the west a lesson would be learnt. For as long as I am willing to learn the lessons of life, the lessons of God, Zimbabwe will be willing to teach, for this is the spirit of my beloved land. I yearn not for the comforts of the world, these, like the honey bee produce something sweet for a limited period of time. The easier and more predictable life becomes, the easier it is to slip into a false sense of security. My security does not come from man or anything made by man. I find my security in God and this is where I hear His voice, through African drum beats, roaring thunder, croaking frogs, chirping crickets, melodic rain. This is where I see His goodness; friendly faces, clear blue sky, bright flickering stars, tranquil lakes, majestic animals. This is where I understand His language and where I am able to best communicate with Him. The current backdrop has almost faded, a new one will take over, yet I have no idea what scene will replace it. All I do know is that The Spirit of Zimbabwe will remain. My journey on this stage continues, my lessons progress.
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