The Sunday Mail
I was ensconced on the bar stool and barely into my second beer when a buxom with a fair share of pimples tapped me on the shoulder.
Not being a ladies’ man and in no mood to be disturbed after a hard week at work characterised by early starts and late finishes, I forced myself to lift my contorted face to establish why this party spoiler was tapping me on the shoulder.
“Mukuru, nemuviri wenyu uyu dai matsvaga pamwe pekugara mungatityorera stool (Sir, find yourself somewhere to sit you may break the stool),” she purred.
Hardly three weeks before this incident, I had endured similar abuse at the hands of young kids in Crowborough North, Harare, where I had visited my sister.
“Dhafu korera, rapedza loaf ramhamha,” sang the young souls as they accompanied me from the bus stop to my destination.
“Paita zvemutumba werume apa, nguruve chaiyo (He is as fat as a pig),” I could hear unemployed youths who were fixing a bedraggled jalopy which was so rusty you would think its components were being held together by rust saying on the roadside.
“Kunyangwe zvikanzi varume vapera, izvizvo bodo (Should he be the last man left in the world, I won’t take a chance),” I heard women of marrying age discussing.
Even women who were plaiting their hair under the shadows of avocado trees which are awash in Kuwadzana and Crowborough North would temporarily leave whatever they were doing to catch a glimpse of me.
“Iwe huya uone zimunhu rakafuta (come and see this fat man),” the women would shout before joining the long queue of my tormentors on one of my worst journeys.
Gentle reader, this group waited for me while inside the house until I made my trip back to the bus stop. My crime was none other than being fat. Having abundant flesh appears to be committed a crime.
At social gatherings you grow accustomed to being used as a bargaining tool for bigger portions of food.
“The food you have given us is not enough. Look at the big guy who is on our table, his body needs a lot of food. We’ll go hungry, please add more food,” people will say at funerals and parties.
In some kombis you are made to pay twice the fare. Even when sitting comfortably, some conductors will pocket one passenger’s fare and misrepresent to the driver that “mudhara wedumbu uya uya has taken much of the space”.
The same obtains when people are giving each other directions. All bearings seem to begin and end with a mention of the fat man’s house.
“Mukasvika pamba pemudhafu uya uya motena kurudyi, haiwa munenge masvika (If you reach the obese man’s house you turn right and you will be on my doorstep within seconds,” people often say oblivious to the emotional damage they will be dealing you.
So intense is the ridicule you endure that people want to see your wife and children to see whether they are eating enough for fear you could be spending much of the money on yourself.
Some uncouth characters cause a lot of discomfort to fat people because they want to have a feel of their tummies. Fat ladies are no exception as rumours are that they are sometimes impregnated or raped by people wishing to sample how people of their build perform in bed.
People who sell all sorts of uncertified medicines and herbal remedies see fat people as a ready market.
“Ukangonwa uyu, after one week unenge wave bhanya. It will give you a good shape in a matter of days and you will start tormenting yourself as to why you had not consulted us earlier,” you are told straight in the face by people wishing to poison you.
You are always told that you will soon die of a heart attack, but there are no known records of fat people dying of every available disease as those who are thin live forever. Some people also want to usually provoke the obese into fights under the mistaken belief that they cannot fight back and run out of wind easily.
Even when you have been wronged, some people take it upon themselves to tell you that you are quick to anger because you are fat.
Fitness trainers also see fat people as an opportunity to make money.
The moment they get your phone number, they will call you any time of day seeking to offer you that quick remedy to your “bad body” condition.
Proposing love to a woman is a tough call for fat people. I hear even those who love you will not readily accept the proposal out of fear of what the public would say.
It is a potpourri of issues worth laughing about. Gentle reader, I know my body is not everyone’s favourite, but please let me be.
Inotambika mughetto.
