diary of a 30-something

Zimbabwe has its own Bridget Jones. She writes in the Manica Post newpaper every Friday. Unlike Helen Fielding, she doesn't sign her column. But this chocolate-loving 30-something's dilemmas are just as pressing.

Ms 30-something, a top-level executive who comes complete with secretary, is torn between two men: Mr IT, who works in the IT section of her company and Mr Old Mutare, who comes from Old Mutare*, is from an apparently politically-powerful family (government, possibly though it's never spelled out) and has money (and a farm). Lots of money. When he and Ms 30-something quarrel, he sends her a "roomful" of flowers. The memory of that has her a weeny-bit scornful when Mr IT -- to whom she finally succumbed a couple of weeks ago -- sends her a bouquet of flowers by dint of an apology. An apology what for, you may ask, only a fortnight into a relationship? Mr IT has made the mistake of refusing to eat chez Ms 30-something (he prefers restaurants every night, which she concedes could be a problem if she married him: how would they save?). He says it's because she might put mupfahwira (love potions) in his supper so he'll never leave.

Ms 30-something has her fair share of drama. She was in a car crash earlier this year, was horrified when taken to a rural hospital (where she was left groaning on a stretcher) and relieved when her church in Harare (Ms 30-something goes to one of the trendy new monied churches the well-connected love to be seen at) sends money for her to be transferred to the capital. She has a lesbian friend who's recently given up on women and is engaged to a man old enough to be her father, and she has a Small House friend. Small House is the mistress of a man with several wives already, but he pays her rent and hairdressing bill and gives her money for groceries. Small House -- who recently lost one of the twins she was carrying -- tells Ms 30-something the secret to keeping someone else's husband: "She tries her level best not to behave like a wife. She plays her cards right, depending on the situation. If he needs a listener, she listens: if he needs an encourager, she encourages, if he needs a nurse, a massage, a bath...whatever it is, she gives it freely, without complaining..."

*the eastern city of Mutare was "moved" over Christmas Pass at the turn of the last century. According to old accounts, houses were dismantled and transported by wagon across the mountain range. Hence Old Mutare (where there's a mission, a school and a university) and Mutare proper, today's diamond-riddled city.