The Metarmophosis

Type :Personal Essay

I would like to think of myself as a butterfly. I will tell you why. Butterflies are beautiful, colourful creatures that undergo various stages in life, from hatched eggs to lava, pupa, then the final and most important stage where they break free from cocoons, develop wings to fly away.I must admit, life was not that easy. I was born and raised in the rural areas where power-cuts and water shortages were the order of the day. The old men who used to marinate the walls of grocery stores all died one after the other from the untold. Before we knew it, members from my church succumbed to the plague. Young women and girls followed suit. Through the eyes of a little girl, it was all bound to happen. I enrolled for Primary education at a mission school that was 5km from home, we had t cross rivers and walk through the bushes just to get an education. As I grew older, I made a realization that most Grade 7 girls did not sit for their final examinations, rumour had it they had fallen pregnant and eloped with their boyfriends. How I despised them! They were wasting their struggling parents' moneys and thanking them with shame and embarrassment. Ungrateful brats. A girl had to get an education, get married and avoid bringing shame to her family. Never mind boys - they were just being...boys. My first wakeup call was my period which chose to erupt during my Maths lesson before break. The following morning my name was scribbled all over furniture, accompanied by drawings of blood. I missed school for a full week until my mother had to use the stick on me. The poor woman had no clue what had happened until a teacher friend wrote her a letter. 'Why did you not tell me?' I did not know how to answer, everything was just awkward. 'N-E-V-E-R play with boys from now on, they will impregnate you.' My naïve self did not understand what that even meant, neither did I have the curiosity to ask. I just wanted to hide my head in the ground and pretend I was dreaming. Fast forward to Grade 7, at least 5 of my friends did not show up for exams. All of them - girls. Had their mothers not told them never to play with boys? By the time I finished high school, most of my friends had dropped out of school and were either dead, married or cohabitating with their children's fathers. Anna*, my lifelong friend became a statistic. They say you never really understand something until it comes closer to home. I became curious. My first baby step out of ignorance was when I formed a Girls Health Club which was meant to be a safe space for girls to talk about puberty, sex and dreams.Theoretically speaking it was a safe space, practically - not really. We always had lady teachers present throughout our meetings and they did not like the whole idea of young girls talking about their own breasts, vaginas and menstrual periods. The club died. I moved to Harare, the capital, to stay with a relative who was a prominent Sexual and reproductive Health Rights (SRHR) activist. This catalysed my metamorphosis. We would visit areas in the outskirts and interview child brides, pregnant teens and teen mothers. I came face to face with reality. These girls, just like me, had dreams! They never planned to drop out, or get pregnant . Most never knew about the pill. The system had failed them. With that realization, my activism began. Since 2015, I have been actively involved in advocating for young people's SRHR, with a special focus on Adolescent Girls and Young Women. I have grown to understand that young people are not a homogeneous group, but rather a coat of many colours. Equipping young people with SRHR information enables them to make informed choices which are vital for their safe transition into adulthood. Today I serve as a youth officer for a regional organization dedicated to ensuring a healthy and gender-equal generation of youth - SRHR Africa Trust, and I facilitate workshops on adolescent health ( menstruation, puberty, Gender, HIV&AIDS, Autonomy, Contraceptives) alongside being actively involved in national and regional SRHR advocacy movements like Pepeta Africa and Sex Rights Africa. The metamorphosis continues. I owe it to Anna's daughter.