Being A Fit Motswana

I recently hit 50kg. I’ve never been 50kg so it’s quite a messy experience being caught between, “you’re just growing” and “oh my I’m getting fat”. Fortunately one thing is certain about me, when I don’t like something I don’t like it. So I don’t like weighing 50 KG. So I decided to finally follow through on my vow that 19 would be the age of healthy. I however completely underestimated how difficult it is to be a fit African girl.

As is the case in most cultures, feasts are a common way of celebrating anything.

 Here in Botswana we glorify women and even babies with a thick appetite and thick body to match it. When I was younger my “skinny” figure was a cause for concern for my family, a little bit of teasing from my cousins and once a partner that sat and watched me eat because he suspected I didn’t eat much. Food is a form of bonding, it’s a way of interacting and accompanied by the modern lifestyle it is really fostering bad eating habits and unhealthy lifestyles.

I had no idea of this until I started my attempt at being physically fit and healthy but a little secret on this side of the world is that no one really likes and supports a fit black woman. The comments are exhausting and I’ve stopped trying to share this part of my life with anyone. “Don’t get that tight ass, that’s for white women”, “but You look perfect”, “are you benching your boyfriend or?” just some of the comments I’ve received. I walked into the gym and an instructor even exclaimed that I was attempting to ruin a perfectly good body.

 Honestly I’d like to make it clear that it’s not about how I look really, actually never mind abs are pretty cool. But this is about being Healthy and Fit: it’s about getting to the top of the stairs and not needing a nap as well as oxygen mask, getting through 8 hours of sleep as well as waking up with no trouble. Two weeks in and I am already waking up before my alarm clock rings.

But the worst part is really how difficult it is to find the foods that my new lifestyle requires. I’ve suddenly began to sympathize with Vegetarians and Vegans because in this country well there is no healthy option; Except for Green salad. There is always green salad for some reason. Living in my parent’s house doesn’t make it any easier for the record. My father keeps forgetting I do not drink Fizzy drinks while he laughs at my attempts at working out. I forgive him because he has promised to buy me the Nike trainers which all the cool fitblrs have.

Truth told if the tumblr blog community of “Fitblrs” had more black women I’d probably feel less alone in my journey. But I’m finding it hard to find body idols or role models that are anything close to what I look like. Sadly the truth is being a fit black girl is proving to be a very difficult and lonely path. Since I’ve been trying, failing and succeeding for about the past 8months I’ve decided I’m not falling off the healthy living train ever again, simply because starting again is so damn exhausting.

Honestly it is your body but I feel wonderful. So I thought there is probably another girl out there who needs a start and well I’m going to share what I’ve learnt in the past 8 months.

• Water and sleep are your best friends.
• Squats are your booty’s best friend, while running is the best all body work out there is.
• Eating clean isn’t dieting, it is the way humans should eat. Simply start by cutting packaged processed foods ( Fizzy drinks, crisps, etc).
• Eat. Eat. And Eat. Your metabolism needs at least 4 meals a day.
• Breakfast matters.
• Gym is not a delete bad eating button.
• You have the time to work out. 10min of skipping rope before your morning shower does wonders.
• Take the stairs. And the long way.
• Quitting is never doing it. Falling off is fine.
• You don’t have to give up your favourite foods.
• Also weights don’t mean bulk they mean muscle.
• The first two weeks hurt, and then it feels good. So don’t fall off.
• 
  

Why White America has ruined White Men for me.

There is a white American marine texting me right now. He calls it flirting and would like to take me on a date. It’s cute, Shems. He is currently in my country for some service with the United States Embassy and how I met him is really such an awkward story I’d rather not share.

Now despite this young man having all the qualifications I usually have for men whose advances I bother to entertain he is failing miserably. Unfortunately I’m sorry to say it’s because he is white. I've never had an interest in a white man so I thought, hey maybe I’m just not that into him. But now I’m absolutely sure it has everything to do with him being a white man.

How might I know this? Every time he says I am gorgeous I see porn title flashing through my mind, “Ebony slut hungry for some white dick”, “Black maid seduces white boss”, “explorer gets jungle fever”... Basically I see myself being made into a fetish. Like when Justin Beiber *cringes* cheated on Selena Gomez with a certain African American model and White America’s headline punch line was “Justin Beiber Cheats with Black girl”. Basically would I become “the first black girl I dated” or “Oh but I date black girls”? Then I wonder if his friends made jokes about him enjoying some African pussy while down here. I also wonder if I’m on a 20 things to do before I am 30 list. “Go to Africa and bang African girls.”

Am I over thinking this? Yes? No? Maybe? Have I watched too many Tyler Perry (I didn’t know better) movies? Or have I been on the Zimmerman hashtag too long? Because I want to Google where he is from and check how many black boys have been shot in that neighborhood and how their courts dealt with it.

It doesn’t go just that far, the worst for me is whether he’ll use pictures of us to justify why as a white male who dates black women he does not fall into the category of racists that support Zimmerman’s murdering a 17 year old black child. 

Is he aware that he has white privilege? And that in my city when we go out girls will snicker that I’m seeing him for his bank account. Despite him probably making not much more than me (that’s a lie I’m a student and journalist, my bank account doesn't know what money is) but white is synonymous with rich in Africa.

I also wonder if on our first date he’ll ask to touch my hair now that it’s out of its braids. I wonder how I will feel about him touching it even if he was trying to be innocently cute in getting it out of my face. I also find myself wanting to ask him how he feels about the fact that the United States system is designed to keep the poor  just that, poor, and that well the poorest were black. 

But I’m not sure how he’ll react and if my opinions might tantamount to hate speech therefore landing me in Guantanamo bay being force fed Monsato GMOs. After all he is a marine, he might be patriotic and ready to die for his country and stuff and I’m just here a 19 year old black girl trying to get her driver’s licence. So maybe despite it eventually coming from him being a white American male, it might also simply be that I cannot be with someone that I cannot be comfortable voicing my opinion to. 

1thirdofawoman reconstruction

Hi there,
I'm sorry first of all. But I was not happy with one third of a woman at all.
So i decided to spend a little money in having some graphics designed for the blog. Yes I know people DIY all the time but i figure if you're going to google me this will come up. It better look good and represent me well.
So until further notice 1thirdofawoman will not be up. Hopefully we wont have to move but I'm prepared to make this work now. Professionally.

with love, TJ.

A War is Coming *warning graphic images will follow*

TOO MANY WOMEN DOWN

I read another angry blog today. This One is by a pretty black South African lesbian woman who lives in Johannesburg and writes poetry. She is angry about a number of things, white privilege, the ANC, lesbians and homosexual stereotype, and the common women battles. She is so angry; she uses vulgar language when she passionately rants on twitter. You know what, it’s scary. I’m not out here to judge her being angry. I don’t even care that she is black lesbian and an activist. I don’t know her. I have no title deed to be able to say anything about her. But it sure scares me that she isn't the only Angry woman out there. Blog posts by so many young ladies are talking about the anger and how they're affected by it, from SiyandaWrites to That Cracked Black.  It is even scarier that they have every reason to be. They're also tiring of writing about it. 

FREE SELF DEFENSE CLASSES IN INDIA

IT BEGINS HERE.

Statistics show an increase in rape. It’s being recorded and sent around as porn in South African high schools., it’s being used to teach women lessons, as weapons in war, or for the fuck of it and the sad part is whole town’s are covering it up. I’m in tears as I type this because we’re losing the battle. I don’t know why I was sitting here thinking that if I sit on my lap top and I type about these things somewhere somehow I would save the world. I’m crying real tears because despite spending the morning reading tweets about how perpetrators should alone be left with responsibility of their actions; I’m sitting here thinking I’m not doing enough. I’m sitting here thinking how unfair it is that I grew up in a home were my father is a good man and my mother is treated like a goddess while majority of my friend’s have sad childhood memories, missing fathers or battered mothers. I’m not angry anymore. I’m sad and scared.

I’m sad because every time I walk down the street and a man whistles and hollers I say hi because I’m scared he might consider me rude and decide to rape me because of it. But then again he might rape me because my “Hi” was flirtatious. Well, he might also just do it for the fucks of it. Literally.  But I’m also scared that it might be one of my friends on a night out, when I've had a few too many so I’m quitting drinking this year. But then it could be a cousin. You know what I feel like right now? My friend recently became a father to a very pretty little girl, when he told me it was a girl my heart sunk. I got sad because that is one more burden for me. That saddens me. Because I love being a woman but I’m still feeling like the moment I was born and I had a vagina. Well I was screwed.

IT IS COMING TO AN END

But women are getting angry. They’re getting angry and they are mobilizing the troops. There is a storm brewing, there is a war coming world. It is going to be messy. They won’t fight with their muscle like you men do. They won’t use brutal force. They will use your seeds. They will take your daughters and they will teach them to hate men. They will take your sons and teach them to hate themselves. We've seen the race wars, the tribal wars, civil wars; tell me how will we survive when the women rise to the goddesses they are? How will you protect yourself from your mother? Will you kill them all? Will you beat them into submission? There is a war coming and I fear the future generations that will be born in its times. How will man and woman survive without one another?

ABOUT CROP TOPS, MINI SKIRTS, LOW RISE JEANS, IMMORAL DRESS AND SWAZILAND

I was going to write an article on Swaziland's recent decision to enforce the 1889 law that bans "immoral dressing". But I figure if you've read SLUT WALKS and you know how I feel about women being told how to dress. But I feel it is my duty to share with you a certain young lady I love and adore's article on it. I was going to ask her to write something on it as soon as I came back from my holiday because she is actually from Swaziland  well, half way. But anyway, she beat me to the punch because she doesn't holiday, and here is a link to my soul mate Siyanda Mohutsiwa blog SiyandaWrites.

About The Author

Siyanda is a 19-year-old BSc undergraduate studying Mathematics/Statistics at the University of Botswana. She lives for mathematics, literature and laughing loudly at her own jokes. She has a particularly inexplicable passion for feminism, pan-Africanism and a growing interest in the socio-economic landscape of her country. She also has a border-line psychopathic love for dead African heroes. She refuses to reveal more on that issue.

Her sometimes indiscernible cries to her imaginary audience can be found on Twitter (@siyandawrites). If you happen to be in the country you can find her articles in the award-winning Sunday Standard’s The Telegraph. If you aren’t, a quick browse through the Sunday Standard website will land you in her articles.

Email siyandawrites@gmail.com for inquiries regarding freelance writing and editing.

P.S I am glad I don't live in a country that subjects me to so much. They're still too many women out there in such situations. allow me to say it but too many of our women down in the field. But at least i know a lot of women whose skill and passion is strong enough to pull the rest out. My Christmas wish is that more of them are born and none of them are afraid to fight the war. 

When I grow Up I Want to be Pope

I don’t really want to be pope when I grow up, but I imagine there is a little girl somewhere in this world kneeling in a Roman Catholic Church praying she gets to be Pope one day, so this one is for that little girl. I’m not a very religious person. By religious of course I mean I don’t belong to a particular church. I’m not atheist either because I use Rollo Reese May’s definition of an atheist,  “call it confidence in the universe, trust in God, and belief in one’s fellow men or what not, the essence of religion is the belief that something matters- the presumption that life has meaning. So the religious person is one who has found meaning in life. And an atheist is one who cannot, or has not found it.” I have found my own meaning. I don’t think my issue is with religion, or God. Although I've been told there is a special place for me in hell, that’s not my issue. I think my issue is with institutions in general. I don’t like institutions, religious or not. I simply do not want to be institutionalized. 

Albert Einstein apparently said “Imagination is more important than Knowledge.” How true would you say this statement was? How important is innovation in any field? The thing with institutions is they slowly murder your ability to be imaginative. Like, Harper Lee said, “The book to read is not the one that thinks for you, but the one that forces you to think.” You know what the problem with being institutionalized is? The problem with being institutionalized is we have a bunch of rules dictating what you can and cannot do. You know what the sad part is, you have a billion people in the world walking around thinking they’re special. In the words of Dash Incredible, “saying everyone is special in their own way is just a nice way of saying no one is special.”

 Do you remember in primary? There was a stage where you learnt that little speech. “My name is Tshepo. I am 7 years old. When I grow up I want to be a Insert Teacher’s choice.” that sentence is the first step into being institutionalized  Fire-fighter, soldier, teacher, doctor all of these careers these teachers picked for you are that first step. Of course unless your parents are “baby boomers” they've also been institutionalized  No teacher picked I want to be “a broke poet travelling through Europe appreciating art eating French croissants, and bar-tending for a little bit of money.”

I mean my baby sister came home the other day and told me she wanted to be a doctor. She is seven. When I was her age I wanted to be a princess. So I’m thinking she is either really smart and has figured out her older sister is a flop, ( I've decided I want to write for a living and be an activist I’m typing this in the hope that it will save me the conversation with my mom. Hi mom.) and her parents need something to be proud of. Or I've been screwed from day one. Anyway back to institutionalization.

We live in a world where we’re fed mixed singles. On one hand you’re told you’re unique, be yourself, you’re special, on the other you’re fed mass everything. Mass education, Mass religion, Mass clothing, even be unique is becoming a mass message. So here we are humans, who are brought up in homes with individualistic believes then taken to institutions with mass believes. Imagine if my family had been catholic, I’ve spent my whole life with my parents telling me I can do anything I want, I can be anything I want. Imagine then that I came home from Sunday school and told my mom, hey mom guess what I've decided I want to be pope. I’m imagining my mother has to tell me why I can’t be pope, which from the research I've done stems down to me being a girl. I’m imagining telling your child they can’t be something because they’re not allowed to must be traumatizing.

So I don’t like institutions. I don’t like schools. I didn't like reception. I didn't like primary, middle school or high school. Unfortunately varsity has changed nothing. I like education. I like knowledge. I have an undying thirsting desire for knowledge. I’d rather read my text books at home than sit in class. But I would also rather sit on Google and find ways to prove those text books wrong. I’m probably just anti social but truth told I don’t think I even like the institution of a country or a government rather. I've read this blog post over so many times and feel it makes no sense. But let us see how this will work out. I have no reason for hating institutional-ism other than that I am also a sad result of it. I wish I wasn't  because maybe then I would believe my dad when he said I should be Botswana’s first female president. But unfortunately the institutions tell me I won’t be, because Botswana’s Political institutions do not foster female presidents or even politicians. So I’m sorry, I’m sorry to all the Catholic little girls that will never get to be pope.

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

The title of this post is the title of a newspaper I read this morning. One I’m typing this sitting next to, distraught. I haven’t had anything to say for months, which is rare because I always have something to say, so perhaps I should say I had nothing worth listening to. But I've been caught up in my own world for a bit now so I again apologize. I however find my heart in turmoil and somber moods this morning, and felt a need to share with you why. In case you have not picked up this week’s, The Midweek Sun you probably should. This week’s headline “Beauty and the beast”a story that describes how, Thabo Masilo a 21 year old Botho College student raped, robbed and murdered 17 year old Tshepang Motlhabane. I have a lot of things to say, but my hearts to heavy to say all of them.

I’m not writing this so I can call Thabo names or call him possessed by demons, or ugly, or a beast because truth is so many women get raped, robbed and murdered so often you’re more likely as a woman to get raped than graduate school in some countries. I’m writing this because of some of the things I read in the article that raised flags for me. I’m not looking for someone to blame, I’m just highlighting what went through my head as i read this article, which for lack of better information is my only source of light as to what happened in that sad home on that day.

“The stranger was 21 year old Thabo Masilo, a botho collage student. It later turned out the assailant is a serial thief and rapist on the police wanted list.”_The Midweek Sun I don’t understand. So we know where this boy goes to school, he has been on a wanted list and they still couldn't find him? We have a population of about 2 million. In the whole country, how is it not possible to find these people on “the wanted list”? How? The police have a show on BTV, have you seen the wanted list? I want to see it. So I can know. So I can put it up on this blog and you guys can call them when you see these guys walk down a street. Because you see them, you walk past them every day. That is an extremely scary thought. That I probably walked past this guy a billion times in game city, maybe he even hit on me since Botho College boys are always hitting on me in Game City.

Then the MP Ntuane’s radical statements on how the security guards should have allowed the people to assault the criminal. I don’t know man, you’re going to solve the crime in your constituency by encouraging a different crime? Like really that’s your plan? Instead of commending the security guards for responding immediately and not allowing the perpetrator to escape while they waited for the police, you’re going to ridicule them. Call out the police for not being first on the scene.

“He told us he came under the pretense of inquiring about a servant’s quarters to rent. Then he asked for water to drink at which point he followed the girl inside the house, locked it, and proceeded to rape, rob and stab her repeatedly”_ mother (The Midweek Sun)

I live in a village on the outskirts of Gaborone. Villages are quite, wholesome, one big family, but my neighbors will all tell you I do not open my gate for anyone. I stand inside, you stand outside we communicate through a wall. It’s a simple safety and security thing. Something we take for granted. I've therefore put together a list of simple things to do to ensure your safety as a woman. Maybe not ensure but improve your safety..

GOING OUT

• ·         Turn down drinks bought and poured when you’re not present, for the simple reason that they’re more likely to be spiked. This applies to both alcoholic and none. Roofies knows no boundaries.
• ·         Random rides home? Cabs are not the safest. But they’re safer than a random person you met in the club after a couple of drinks. Opt for cabs with home offices or centers like smiley cabs, hello cabs etc. As compared to the individual cabby.
• ·         The buddy system. Try to share cabs with your friends rather than each taking their own cab or ride home. That way you can make sure you’re safe.
• ·         Also watch your friends and who they’re with, the assumption is they’re doing the same for you. Culprits are intimidated by a lurking friend that will not be separated from her friend. They’re less likely to act if a pack of females sticks together.
• ·         If you’re drinking. Drink responsibly. Blacking out in a car, floor, bathroom is not sexy neither is it safe.
• ·         Opt to take cycles being the “designated driver” even if no one is actually driving. It makes sense to have at least one of you sober enough to be the brain of the group.

AT HOME

• ·         Follow your instincts. You are not obliged to open a door for any one you do not know. Neither are you obliged to even answer a door. Even if it’s the police. ( I ignore them at my gate all the time)
• ·         If you are home alone, do not disclose this information. Try to give the impression that someone is in the house with you. Call out a random name or something if you feel uncomfortable with someone inquiring.
• ·         Double check locked doors as well as locked gates and closed windows.
• ·         Refrain from watching TV or listening to music at high volumes as this impairs your capability to hear what is going on outside. That does not mean go outside if you hear something.

WHEN DRIVING

• ·         Keep your handbag, laptop bag other valuables in the boot of the car or in a place they cannot be seen.
• ·         Have your windows installed with a shatter proof film, it can both protect you from the sun as well as impair someone’s view of what’s in the car. It can prevent injury if your window is smashed in a smash and grab.
• ·         Do not pick up hitch hikers, stop for break downs, etc
• ·         Make sure your car has good maintenance to avoid having a break down in a dangerous place.
• ·         Learn how to change tyres. A flat tyre can be changed within 45 minutes, less of a security risk than waiting for 2 hours for your knight in shining armor to come save you.
• ·         Avoid back roads and unlit roads after dark.

Other tips

• ·         Avoid elevators. No building in Botswana is that high you cannot take the stairs. You do not want to be stuck in an elevator with a person that scares you.
• ·         Heels make for very good weapons; if you find yourself in a bad situation use them.

If there are anymore tips you’d like to add. Do post them in the comments box. J

My condolences to the family of that young girl and may her soul rest in peace.