RRID:AB_10598479

RRID:SCR_002798

RRID:Addgene_19068

RRID:SCR_002285

RRID:CVCL_0063

RRID:CVCL_0019

RRID:Addgene_1654

RRID:SCR_026031

RRID:SCR_005223

RRID:SCR_008394

RRID:SCR_014322

RRID:SCR_016634

RRID:SCR_025572

RRID:SCR_002798

RRID:SCR_016137

Addgene_47549

Addgene_66823

plasmid_8938

RRID:AB_477010

RRID:AB_2572311

RRID:AB_3678889

RRID:AB_2109953

RRID:AB_2050678

RRID:AB_3678888

RRID:AB_3711244

RRID:AB_10013382

Addgene_51482

RRID:CVCL_Z831

AB_330248

AB_2534079

AB_2249358

AB_561053

AB_2798136

AB_2800199

AB_2534069

AB_10839118

AB_10013641

AB_2174466

AB_2160882

AB_477629

AB_2291558

AB_2128060

AB_10891442

RRID:AB_2307391

AB_10694415

RRID:AB_2338505

AB_3698765

AB_476749

RRID:AB_2307443

RRID:AB_2315777

RRID:AB_760348

RRID:SCR_022006

It was strange the way she had begun to call me ‘Sisi’, because she was older than I and so did not need to cali me that; nor had she done so when she came home for Nhamo’s funeral or when I arrived, a matter of a few hours ago. Not that it was important in itself. After all, Maiguru called me ‘Sisi’, affectionately and companionably, so Anna might have picked it up from her. It only became important when you considered it with all the other strange ways she was adopting, of kneeling down to talk to me and not looking at me as she talked but at a spot on the floor a few inches in front of me. The worst thing was that she hardly talked at all, said no more than the few words necessary to convey her message. You have met Anna as she was before she began to behave like this, and I think you will agree with me that nothing on earth could have changed her so quickly into a quiet, reserved person. The change then had to do with me. It was very sobering to think that my change of address had changed me into a person Anna could not talk to. It was disconcerting too, because I wasaware only of the change of address. The self I expected to find on the mission would take some time to appear. Besides, it was not to be such a radical transformation that people would have to behave differently towards me. It was to be an extension and improvement of what I really was. Anna’s behaviour made me feel uncomfortably strange and unfamiliar with myself, so I spoke roughly to her.

wished Lucia would be quiet. Her case was a serious one and it did not help to be rude to Babamukuru. Lucia was my mother’s sister, several years younger than my mother and a wild woman in spite of - or maybe because of — her beauty. She was dark like my mother, but unlike my mother her complexion always had a light shining from underneath the skin, so she could afford to scoff at the skin-lightening creams tha@other girls used. ‘Fanta and Coca- Cola!’ she laughed. ‘Aiwa! Not me. I prefer to be the same colour all over.’ Asa result, her skin was not deteriorating and breaking; it remained glowing and healthy

Do you really have a Master’s Degree?’ Maiguru was flattered. ‘Didn’t you know?’ she smiled at me over the top of her glasses. How could I have known? No one had ever mentioned it to me. ‘But Maiguru,’ I answered immediately, emboldened by the thought of my aunt obtaining a Master’s Degree, ‘did you ever say?’ “Did you ever ask?’ she countered, and continued, ‘yes, we both studied, your uncle and I, in South Africa for our Bachelor’s Degrees and in England for our Master’s.” ‘I thought you went to look after Babamukuru,’ I said. ‘That’s all people ever say.’ Maiguru snorted. ‘And what do you expect? Why should a woman go all that way and put up with all those problems if not to look after her husband?’

ings I had thought it depended on. Men took it everywhere with them. Even heroes like Babamukuru did it. And that was the problem. You had to admit that Nyasha had no tact. You had to admit she was altogether too volatile and strong-willed. You couldn’t ignore the fact that she had no respect for Babamukuru when she ought to have had lots of it. But what I didn’t like was the way all the conflicts came back to this question of femaleness. Femaleness as opposed and inferior to malenéés.

Nyasha,’ I said as she walked past me, but she did not answer. I followed her to the servants’ quarters, where we sat, she smoking a cigarette held between shaking fingers and I feeling bad for her and thinking how dreadfully familiar that scene had been, with Babamukuru condemning Nyasha to whoredom, making her a victim of her femaleness, just as I had felt victimised at home in the days when Nhamo went to school and I grew my maize. The victimisation, I saw, was universal. It didn’t depend on poverty, on lack of education or on tradition. It didn’t depend on any of th

could feel myself shrinking. It seemed that I was only a very small spot on the floor when eventually I found enough voice to answer.

was not concerned that freedom fighters were referred to as terrorists, did not demand proof of God’s existence nor did I think that the missionaries, along with all the other Whites in Rhodesia, ought to have stayed at home.

Beside Nyasha I was a paragon ‘ of feminine decorum, principally because I hardly ever talked unless spoken to, and then only to answer with the utmost respect whatever question had been asked. Above all, I did not question things. It did not matter to me why things should be done this way rather than that way. I simply accepted that this was so. I did not think that my reading was more important than washing the dishes, and I understood that panties should not be hung to dry in the bathroom where everybody could see them. I did not discuss Anna’s leave conditions with Maiguru. I was not concerned that freedom fighters were referred to as terrorists, did not demand proof of God’s existence nor did I think that the missionaries, along with all the other Whites in Rhodesia, ought to have stayed at home. As a result of all these things that I did not think or do, Babamukuru thought I was the sort of young woman a daughter ought to be and lost no opportunity to impress this point of view upon Nyasha. Far from being upset by these comparisons, she would agree that, apart from being a little spineless (which she thought could be corrected), yes, I was an exemplary young lady. Perhaps she would have reacted differently if she had known her father better. She did not realise how deeply he felt the misfortune of having a daughter like Nyasha. Not considering herself a misfortune, she could not have known how disillusioned her father was. She took seriously the reasons that Maiguru gave for Babamukuru’s bad humour— he was busy, he had responsibilities - and on this basis made allowances for him so that she did not judge him too harshly and remained herself in spite of her father’s wishes.

until in the end I appeared to have slipped out of my body and was standing sothewhere near the foot of the bed, watching her efforts to persuade me to get up and myself ignoring her.

ou must learn to be obedient,’ Babamukuru told Nyasha and struck her again. ‘I told you not to hit me,’ said Nyasha, punching him in the eye. Babamukuru bellowed and snorted that if Nyasha was going to behave like a man, then by his mother who wasat rest in her grave he would fight her like one. They went down on to the floor, Babamukuru alternately punching Nyasha’s head and banging it against the floor, screaming or trying to scream but only squeaking, because his throat had seized up with fury, that he would kill her with his bare hands; Nyasha, screaming and wriggling and doing what damage she could. Maiguru and Chido could not stay out of it any longer. They had to hold him

She worked until suppertime. When Anna called she put away her books and came to the table. She sat down very quietly and that was the beginning of a horribly weird and sinister drama. Babamukuru dished out a large helping of food for his daughter and set it before her, watching her surreptitiously as he pickedcasually at his own meal to persuade us that he was calm. Nyasha regarded her plate malevolently, darting anguished glances at her father, drained two glasses of water, then picked up her fork and shovelled the food into her mouth, swallowing without chewing and without pause except to sip between mouthfuls from a third glass of water. Maiguru ate steadily and fussed over me, placing another chunk of meat, another spoonful of vegetables on my plate and making cheerful conversation about my lessons, my friends and the food at Sacred Heart. When Nyasha’s plate was empty they both relaxed and the atmosphere returned almost to normal. Nyasha excused herself immediately. I thought she had gone to the bedroom to read but when I followed her there the room was empty. I could hear retching and gagging from the bathroom.

Chido went into Standard Six in the year that Babamukuru returned from England. This meant that he was going to secondary school the following year. Babamukuru had intended him to stay on at the mission to counteract the unAfrican exposure he had been subjected to in England, but Mr Baker, as Nyaradzo’s father is called, arranged for Chido to take the entrance examination to his son’s school. So determined was this good missionary that Chido should have the best in life that he personally drove my cousin to Salisbury, where the examination was taking place. Not surprisingly, since Whites were indulgent towards promising young black boys in those days, provided that the promise was a peaceful promise, a grateful promise to accept whatever was handed out to them and not to expect more, Chido was offered a place at the school and a scholarship to go with it. Nyasha was sure that Mr Baker had had a hand in that scholarship. To ease his conscience, she said. ‘A word with the headmasters’ she told me when Nyaradzo was not present. ‘You know how it is, bwana to bwana: “The boy needs the cash, old man!”; “He’s a good boy, what. Pity to waste him. We'll see what we can do.” So Chido gets his scholarship and Mr Baker feels better about sending his sons there in the first place. Really! The things they get up to to pull the wool over our eyes. Really!’ Nyasha’s analysis made sense because Babamukuru did not approve of European habits, easy options or unnecessary expenditure. Without the scholarship Chido certainly would not have gone to that school and Mr Baker would have had his sons’ superior education nibbling away at his conscience. The upshot of all this was that Chido did go to this boarding school and by the time I went to the mission he had adapted remarkably well to private-school life. He had acquired the usual courteous, self- indulgent, private —- school habits and was firm friends with the Baker boys. As a result I did not see much of him or of the Bakerboys, except for a day or two at the beginning or the end of the holidays, because their school ran according toa calendar that was different from the one we used at the mission.

It stung too saltily, too sharply and agonisingly the sensitive images that the women had of themselves,images that were really no more than reflections. But the women had been taught to recognise these reflections as self and it was frightening now to even begin to think that, the very facts which set them apart as a group, as women, as a certain kind of person, were only myths;

I didn’t want to explore the treacherous mazes that such thoughts led into. I didn’t want to reach the end of those mazes, because there, I knew, { would find myself and I was afraid I would not recognise myself after having taken so many confusing directions.

Do not take me at all. I don’t want to be in your stupid wedding,’ I wanted to shout. Instead I said quietly and politely, “Very well, Babamukuru. That will make things much easier for everybody.’ . There was definitely something wrong with me, otherwise I would have had something to say for myself. I knew I had not taken a stand on many issues since coming to the mission, but all along I had been thinking that it was because there had been no reason to, that when the time came I would be able to do it.

The victimisation, I saw, was universal. It didn’t depend on poverty, on lack of education or on tradition. It didn’t depend on any of the

he food looked interesting, which made me suspicious of it since I knew that food was not meant to be interesting but filling Besides the rice, there was something that might have been potato: I could not be sure since it was smothered in a thick, white tasteless gravy. Although I gallantly placed small portions of it in my mouth, it refused to go down my throat in large quantities. In fact nothing was going down my throat in large quantities. I discovered that using a knife and fork was not as easy as it looked; most of m supper was landing on the table, on my chest, in my lap , everywhere except in my mouth. In a way this was not a bad thing because ie taste of those potatoes made everything else, even the , Which was properl i iand tomatoes as Pr tenn cooked with plenty of salt and onions

But the women had been taught to recognise these reflections as self and it was frightening now to even begin to think that, the very facts which set them apart as a group, as women, as a certain kind of person, were only myths; frightening to acknowledge that generations of threat and assault and neglect had battered these myths into the extreme, dividing reality they faced, of the Maigurus or the Lucias.

Consciously I thought my direction was clear: I was being educated. When I had been educated, I would find 4 job and settle down to it, carrying on, in the time that was available before I was married into a new home, Babamukuru’s great work of developing the family. Issues were well defined for me at that time:

My finely tuned survival system set off its alarm a

‘Nyasha,’ I said as she walked past me, but she did not answer. I followed her to the servants’ quarters, where we sat, she smoking a cigarette held between shaking fingers and I feeling bad for her and thinking how dreadfully familiar that scene had been, with Babamukuru condemning Nyasha to whoredom, making her a victim of her femaleness, just as I had felt victimised at home in the days when Nhamo went to school and I grew my maize. The victimisation, I saw, was universal. It didn’t depend on poverty, on lack of education or on tradition. It didn’t depend on any of the

But, of course, I could not tell her this. It was easier to lie there on my back, apparently paralysed and staring at the ceiling.

Nyasha talked to me. She tried hard to coax me out of bed, but I was slipping further and further away from her, until in the end I appeared to have slipped out of my body and was standing sothewhere near the foot of the bed, watching her efforts to persuade me to get up and myself ignoring her. I observed with interest and wondered what would happen next. It was quite exciting. Maiguru came in and mentioned Babamukuru. That was a bit of a shock and I nearly did get up, but in the end decided to stay at the foot of the bed and watch more of this extraordinary drama. The next thing that happened was that Babamukuru walked into the room, without knocking and looking dangerously annoyed. The body on the bed didn’t even twitch. Meanwhile the mobile, alert me, the one at the foot of the bed, smiled smugly, thinking that I had gone somewhere where he could not reach me, and I congratujated myself for being so clever.

Nyasha remained stern for some time after Maiguru left us. The creases of concentration furrowed her brow ever more deeply. There was nothing for me to do — my bed had been made, my clothes were neatly packed in my suitcase. I sat on my bed and waited, not daring to speak to Nyasha, whose detachment, when she was not disarming you with the full force of her precocious charm, was very intimidating. Fortunately, it was not in her nature to remain detached for long. She could not resist eyeing me quickly and cautiously when she thought I wasn’t looking, and I was able to catch her at it because of course I was doing the same. Our eyes met and Nyasha burst out laughing. ‘We shall have to speak to each other sooner or later,’ she laughed. ‘And anyway, it’s not you I’m cross with.’ She was, it seemed, well-disposed towards me. There followed the usual pleasantries about how the situation was at home and my eager questions about school at the mission. What time did lessons start in the morning? What time did they end? Were those buildings I had seen through the living-room window the classrooms? The siren, that was the bell, wasn’t it? And what about the teachers, were they harsh or kind? ‘I’m glad,’ said Nyasha when we began to talk seriously, ‘that we have to share this room. It means we’ll be friends. But you curled your lip at us when we came back from England, so I didn’t know what was going to happen when you came. I just said to myself, P'll try to be nice, I'll try to be friendly and we'll see what happens.’ ‘But I did not sneer at you,’ I protested, speaking in Shona. Our conversation was laboured and clumsy because when Nyasha

The whole business reduced my parents to the level of the stars of a comic show, the entertainers. I did not want to see them brought down like that and I certainly did not want to be part of it.

When school broke up on Friday afternoon, the afternoon that I was to go home to prepare for the wedding, I ran away. I went to the hostel with my friends, and stayed there for the rest of the day and most of the evening. Jocelyn and Maidei were pleased to have me with them for such a long time. Maidei was particularly happy about it. She made no bones about telling me that spending so much time with Nyasha was turning me into a snob. In the end, though, I had to go home. Supper was over by the time I got back to my uncle’s house. The door was locked but happily the dogs were not loose, which was good because I would not be savaged and also because it meant my uncle was still at the office. Nyasha was fast asleep. I had to go round the back and knock on our bedroom window to get her to open up for me. The whole process made such a racket, with me tripping over logs and having to bang on the window for a good five minutes to wake Nyasha up, that Maiguru came out of her bedroom to see what was happening. ‘Tambudzai!’ she scolded anxiously, intercepting us in the passage. ‘Where have you been? Your uncle is very angry with you.’ I could feel myself shrinking. It seemed that I was only a very small spot on the floor when eventually I found enough voice to answer. ‘There was homework, Maiguru. An exercise I didn’t finish in class,” I lied thinly. ‘But you should have said,’ fluttered my aunt. ‘Now see what has happened. Babamukuru is annoyed.’

Lucia, who had grown shrewd in her years of dealing with men denied that the foetus was Takesure’s. She accredited it instead tomy father, although this could not have been true. My father, doin his best not to offend Babamukuru, had sensibly not allowed himself to enjoy Lucia’s voluptuousness until after she had fallen pregnant. From this feat of self-control Lucia had deduced that my

What was needed in that kitchen was a combination of Maiguru’s detachment and Lucia’s direction. Everybody needed to broaden out a little, to stop and consider the alternatives, but the matter was too intimate. It stung too saltily, too sharply and agonisingly the sensitive images that the women had of themselves,images that were really no more than reflections. But the women had been taught to recognise these reflections as self and it was frightening now to even begin to think that, the very facts which set them apart as a group, as women, as a certain kind of person, were only myths; frightening to acknowledge that generations of threat and assault and neglect had battered these myths into the extreme, dividing reality they faced, of the Maigurus or the Lucias.So instead of a broadening from both positions, instead of an encompassing expansion and a growth, the fear made it necessary to tighten up. Each retreated more resolutely into their roles, pretending while they did that actually they were advancing, had in fact initiated an offensive, when really, for each one of them, it was a last solitary, hopeless defence of the security of their illusions.

But, of course, I could not tell her this. It was easier to lie there on my back, apparently paralysed and staring at the ceiling.

If I had been more independent in my thinking then, I would have thought the matter through to a conclusion. But in those days it was easy for me to leave tangled thoughts knotted, their loose ends hanging. I didn’t want to explore the treacherous mazes that such thoughts led into. I didn’t want to reach the end of those mazes, because there, I knew, { would find myself and I was afraid I would not recognise myself after having taken so many confusing directions. I wa

Even if you do ignore me,” Lucia continued, ‘it doesn’t mean I’m not here. And anyway, Mwaramu, maybe you can tell me plainly: where do you want me to go? We both know I can’t go home. Their sending me here in the first place, it was because there was no food, and no work either at that place, isn’t it? It’s true, you know it. So where do you want me to go? As for going with Takesure, ha-a-a! I know it’s the way you joke, Babamukuru. What would I go to do at Takesure’s home?’

It had to be avoided because it was deadly. I could see it. It was definitely black, we were taught. It had well-defined edges, and it was square rather than round so that you knew where it ended. It worked like a predatory vacuum, drawing the incautious into itself and never letting them out. And now Babamukuru was saying that 150 this was where my parents were, which meant myself and my sisters too. I could not associate myself or mine with sin so I smothered my misgivings in literal interpretations of the things we were taught in Sunday School. I convinced myself that sin was what people who had lived long ago, in Bcand early AD, had done to each other. Yet Babamukuru was sure enough that my parents were sinning to want to provide a wedding for them, a wedding that would cost a lot of money. It was a complex problem, too complex for me to | think my way out of, so I pushed it once more to the back of my mind. I hoped it would go away and leave me to enjoy the remainder of the vacation with Nyasha. Since there wasn’t much of it left. Tete was the first to leave. This caused another rearrangement of sleeping-quarters, with the boys moving into the hozi. Babamunini went the day after Tete and Babamukuru the day after that. Nyasha went too on that day, leaving me depressed and unhappy because I would not see her again until term began in three weeks time, and that was a terribly long time for me to think of spending without her. Nyasha was something unique and necessary for me. I did not like to spend too long without talking to her about the things that worried me because she would, I knew, pluck out the heart of the problem with her multi-directional mind and present it to me in ways that made sense, but not only that, in ways that implied also that problems existed not to be worried over but to extend us in our search for solutions. And there were many things that worried me in those days. Deep in the less accessible areas of my mind, although outwardly I would have hotly denied it, I was ashamed of what to me was a pervasive and enervating vagueness. Consciously I thought my direction was clear: I was being educated. When I had been educated, I would find 4 job and settle down to it, carrying on, in the time that was available before I was married into a new home, Babamukuru’s great work of developing the family. Issues were well defined for me at that time: these were the goals and this was how we would reach them. Babamukuru was my touchstone who showed me that this was true. So I should have been content to go to school and achieve my good grades. I should have been content with preparing myself for the life I have described. But Nyasha’s energy, at times stormy and turbulent, at times confidently serene, but always reaching, reaching a littl

Does it matter what I want? Since when has it mattered what I want? So why should it start mattering now? Do you think I wanted to be impregnated by that old dog? Do you think I wanted to travel all this way across this country of our forefathers only to live in dirt and poverty? Do you really think I wanted the child for whom I made the journey to die only five years after it left the womb? Or my son to be taken from me? So what difference does it make whether I have a wedding or whether I go? It is all the same. What I have endured for nineteen years I can endure for another nineteen, and nineteen more if need be. Now leave me! Leave me to rest.”

Nyasha didn’t want to go home that Christmas either, and this made me apprehensive, because it was likely that there would be another of our bloody family scenes.

If I had been more independent in my thinking then, I would have thought the matter through to a conclusion. But in those days it was easy for me to leave tangled thoughts knotted, their loose ends hanging. I didn’t want to explore the treacherous mazes that such thoughts led into. I didn’t want to reach the end of those mazes, because there, I knew, { would find myself and I was afraid I would not recognise myself after having taken so many confusing directions. I was beginning to suspect that I was not the person I was expected to be, and took it as evidence that somewhere I had taken a wrong turning.

To distract myself I set my mind on other things: on trips to Nyamarira on the days that it did not rain; on daydreams about being back at school, which was not too long to wait any more; on joining Nyasha in her latest craze of making clay pots. We used to make clay pots in the days before Babamukuru went to England,

o Babamunini took over the living-room and all the unmarried women, including Lucia, slept in the kitchen. There were at least eight of us sleeping there for the whole two weeks that our reunion lasted. I was comfortable enough because I had slept in the kitchen all my jife, but Nyasha could not fail asleep until the last people had stopped talking. And, she said, it was just as well that she had grown used to smoke from cigarettes, otherwise the smoke in the kitchen would have made her uncomfortable. It was true. The kitchen was smoky, because we cooked on the open hearth in the centre of the room. The hearth was a depression in the floor surrounded by a tripartite tripod of iron on which the pots were balanced; a depression surrounded also by large, smooth stones which were for balancing as well and enabled us to cook more than three pots at one time.

It had to be avoided because it was deadly. I could see it. It was definitely black, we were taught. It had well-defined edges, and it was square rather than round so that you knew where it ended. It worked like a predatory vacuum, drawing the incautious into itself and never letting them out. And now Babamukuru was saying that 150 this was where my parents were, which meant myself and my sisters too. I could not associate myself or mine with sin so I smothered my misgivings in literal interpretations of the things we were taught in Sunday School. I convinced myself that sin was what people who had lived long ago, in Bcand early AD, had done to each other. Yet Babamukuru was sure enough that my parents were sinning to want to provide a wedding for them, a wedding that would cost a lot of money. It was a complex problem, too complex for me to | think my way out of, so I pushed it once more to the back of my mind. I hoped it would go away and leave me to enjoy the remainder of the vacation with Nyasha. Since there wasn’t much of it left. Tete was the first to leave. This caused another rearrangement of sleeping-quarters, with the boys moving into the hozi. Babamunini went the day after Tete and Babamukuru the day after that. Nyasha went too on that day, leaving me depressed and unhappy because I would not see her again until term began in three weeks time, and that was a terribly long time for me to think of spending without her. Nyasha was something unique and necessary for me. I did not like to spend too long without talking to her about the things that worried me because she would, I knew, pluck out the heart of the problem with her multi-directional mind and present it to me in ways that made sense, but not only that, in ways that implied also that problems existed not to be worried over but to extend us in our search for solutions. And there were many things that worried me in those days. Deep in the less accessible areas of my mind, although outwardly I would have hotly denied it, I was ashamed of what to me was a pervasive and enervating vagueness. Consciously I thought my direction was clear: I was being educated. When I had been educated, I would find 4 job and settle down to it, carrying on, in the time that was available before I was married into a new home, Babamukuru’s great work of developing the family. Issues were well defined for me at that time: these were the goals and this was how we would reach them. Babamukuru was my touchstone who showed me that this was true. So I should have been content to go to school and achieve my good grades. I should have been content with preparing myself for the life I have described. But Nyasha’s energy, at times stormy and turbulent, at

I found I could not get out of bed. I tried several times but my muscles simply refused to obey the half-hearted commands I was issuing to them.

The next morning, the morning of the wedding, I found I could not get out of bed. I tried several times but my muscles simply refused to obey the half-hearted commands I was issuing to them. Nyasha was worried. She thought I was ill, but I knew better. I knew I could not get out of bed because I did not want to. But, of course, I could not tell her this. It was easier to lie there on my back, apparently paralysed and staring at the ceiling. Nyasha talked to me. She tried hard to coax me out of bed, but I was slipping further and further away from her, until in the end I appeared to have slipped out of my body and was standing sothewhere near the foot of the bed, watching her efforts to persuade me to get up and myself ignoring her. I observed with interest and wondered what would happen next. It was quite exciting. Maiguru came in and mentioned Babamukuru. That was a bit of a shock and I nearly did get up, but in the end decided to stay at the foot of the bed and watch more of this extraordinary drama. The next thing that happened was that Babamukuru walked into the room, without knocking and looking dangerously annoyed. The body on the bed didn’t even twitch. Meanwhile the mobile, alert me, the one at the foot of the bed, smiled smugly, thinking that I had gone somewhere where he could not reach me, and I congratujated myself for being so clever.

was surprised that Nyasha took so much interest in the things our grandparents and great-grand- parents had done. We had quite a debate about it, but I was sure that I was right, because Babamukuru himself had opted for a wedding rather than the cleansing ceremonies. When I confronted Nyasha with this evidence of the nature of progress, she became quite annoyed and delivered a lecture on the dangers of assuming that Christian ways were progressive ways. ‘It’s bad enough,’ she said severely, ‘when a country gets colonised, but when the peopledo as well! That’s the end, really, that’s the end.’

‘Do you really have a Master’s Degree?’ Maiguru was flattered. ‘Didn’t you know?’ she smiled at me over the top of her glasses. How could I have known? No one had ever mentioned it to me. ‘But Maiguru,’ I answered immediately, emboldened by the thought of my aunt obtaining a Master’s Degree, ‘did you ever say?’ “Did you ever ask?’ she countered, and continued, ‘yes, we both studied, your uncle and I, in South Africa for our Bachelor’s Degrees and in England for our Master’s.” ‘I thought you went to look after Babamukuru,’ I said. ‘That’s all people ever say.’ Maiguru snorted. ‘And what do you expect? Why should a woman go all that way and put up with all those problems if not to look after her husband?’

house

ou could see that at a glance in my tight, faded frock that immodestly defined my budding breasts, and in my broad-toed feet that had grown thick-skinned through daily contact with the ground in all weathers. You could see it from the way the keratin had reacted by thickening and, having thickened, had hardened and cracked so that the dirt ground its way in but could not be washed out. It was evident from the corrugated black callouses on my knees, the scales on my skin that were due to lack of oil, the short, dull tufts of malnourished hair.

Maiguru said a lot of things then. ‘Yes, she is your brother’s child,’ she said. ‘But when it comes to taking my money so that you can feed her and her father and your whole family and waste it on ridiculous weddings, that’s when they are my relatives too. Let me tell you, Babawa Chido, I am tired of my house being a hotel for your family. I am tired of being a housekeeper for them. 1am tired of being nothing in a home I am working myself sick to support. And now even that Lucia can walk in here and tell me that the things she discusses with you, here in my home, are none of my business. I am sick of it Babawa Chido. Let me tell you, I have had enough!”

Do you really have a Master’s Degree?’ Maiguru was flattered. ‘Didn’t you know?’ she smiled at me over the top of her glasses. How could I have known? No one had ever mentioned it to me. ‘But Maiguru,’ I answered immediately, emboldened by the thought of my aunt obtaining a Master’s Degree, ‘did you ever say?’ “Did you ever ask?’ she countered, and continued, ‘yes, we both studied, your uncle and I, in South Africa for our Bachelor’s Degrees and in England for our Master’s.” ‘I thought you went to look after Babamukuru,’ I said. ‘That’s all people ever say.’ Maiguru snorted. ‘And what do you expect? Why should a woman go all that way and put up with all those problems if not to look after her husband?’ Maiguru was more serious than she had ever been before. Her seriousness changed her from a sweet, soft dove to something more like a wasp. ‘That’s what they like to think I did,” she continued sourly. The lower half of her face, and only the lower half, because it did not quite reach the eyes, set itself into sullen lines of discontent. She bent over her books to hide them, and to prove that she was not unhappy at all she made a chuckling sound. I think she thought gaily but sounding pained. ‘Whatever they thought,’ she said, ‘much good did it do them! I still studied for that degree and got it in spite of all of them — your uncle, your grandparents and the rest of your family. Can you tell me now that they aren’t pleased that I did, even if they don’t admit it? No! Your uncle wouldn’t be able to do half the things he does if I didn’t work as well!” ‘You must earn a lot of money,’ I breathed in awe. My aunt laughed and said she never received her salary. I was aghast. ‘What happens to your money?’ I asked. “The money that you earn. Does the Government take it?’ For I was beginning to understand that our Government was not a good one. ‘You could say that,’ my aunt laughed, forcing herself to be merry again but not succeeding. She gave up, took off her glasses and leaned back in her seat, staring wistfully through the verandah’s arches to the mountains and beyond. ‘What it is,” she sighed, ‘to have to choose between self and security. When I was in England I glimpsed for a little while the things I could have been, the things I could have done if - if —if things were ~ different - But there was Babawa Chido and the children and the family.

Don’t push me too far,’ Babamukuru pleaded. Mustering up his courage, Chido tried to help. ‘They were only talking for a few minutes, Dad,’ he said, and was ordered to be silent. “You, Chido, keep quiet,” Babamukuru snapped. ‘You let your sister behave like a whore without saying anything. Keep quiet.’ “Babawa Chido,’ began Maiguru, but was silenced immediately. Nyasha grew uncharacteristically calm at times like this. ‘Now why,’ she enquired of no particular person, ‘should I worry about what people say when my own father calls me a whore?’ She looked at him with murder in her eyes. ‘Nyasha, be quiet,’ Chido advised. ‘Chido, I have told you to keep out of this,’ reminded Babamukuru, gathering himself within himself so that his whole weight was behind the blow he dealt Nyasha’s face. ‘Never,’ he hissed. ‘Never,’ he repeated, striking her other cheek with the back of his hand, ‘speak to me like that.’ Nyasha fell on to the bed, her miniscule skirt riding up her

AZRIEL's scar flickers as its glow drains into her.

and wraps her legs around his waist. 她没有回答。她把银链缠在手腕上，拽着链子把他拉下来，然后双腿缠住他的腰。He sinks into her. He drives into her again and again. Her nails dig into his back, and his tail cinches around her waist.

I'm his one.

He lowers his forehead to hers.

You remember sealing me. Not loving me.

I sealed you. That's all I remember.

AZRIEL stands behind her chair with his horns out, breathing hard. His tail lashes the stone.

Five hundred years of illusions. Every one of them had his eyes.

Let go of my ankle.

Five hundred years, and no one has held me. From tonight, his nest is my bed.

He pulls her down into the Nest and wraps himself around her from behind.

Will you kill me today?

...And you're the only one who can hurt me.

In the only one who can hurt me.

Then stop watching me breathe.

No one enters this room without my word. You're stuck with me.

If I take her, our two half hearts become one. My life becomes hers. I can never hurt her again.

his hand hovering above her throat. His face twists.

She doesn't even remember. Killing her now would be mercy.

You're the size of a hill. How do I get you down this mountain?

I didn't seal it. I kissed it open.

Nine lines in ten are nonsense. And it's all I have.

Take every memory I have of him. Seal him.

A focus on implementation leads to innovative interventions that are more effective for the groups they are meant to help. This allows the practice to advance as a whole and creates an open dialogue among practitioners to collaborate on solutions and share their work.

They use their scientific set of skills to collect and analyze data to help communities answer their questions, evaluate what they are doing, and use research to plan, learn, and make decisions. The community consultant will need research and evaluation skills to help communities to conduct needs assessments and gather data to use for planning and to evaluate the outcomes of their initiatives.

By giving away our skills and knowledge, we empower them to make the changes their communities need and reduce their reliance on outside professionals.

One hallmark of Community Psychology practice is that instead of going into communities and acting on their behalf, Community Psychology practitioners work to strengthen communities so they can act on their own behalf. This requires a strong, trusting relationship between the community psychologist and the various stakeholders, such as community partners, advocates, members of the target population, treatment providers, and governmental entities (Elias et al., 2015). If Community Psychology practitioners are successful in their work, communities they work in should eventually not need their help at all. The goal is to create change which is then adopted by the community and managed by the community members to the point where they sustain it over time. This is really important for working in disadvantaged communities that have been traditionally disempowered. By giving away our skills and knowledge, we empower them to make the changes their communities need and reduce their reliance on outside professionals. These four competencies are designed to help us do that (see Table 3). When the Community Psychology consultant in our first case study goes into the communities to work with them to build their collaboratives, she will not do any of the work for them. She will provide training and technical assistance to strengthen the skills and capacity of the community members to build and maintain their collaborative.

The foundational principles are the five competencies that all Community Psychology practitioners working in the US need, listed in Table 1 below. They represent knowledge, skills, and principles that help to guide practice work from a Community Psychology perspective, as well as the values and perspectives of Community Psychology and the competencies needed to apply the values in practice, as also indicated in the first chapter (Jason et al., 2019). These competencies are combined with the remaining more technical skills-based competencies to ensure they are exercised using a Community Psychology approach. Elias et al. (2015) suggest that you think of them as “foreground” processes because Community Psychology practitioners need to pay constant attention to these principles and make sure that their actions align with them.

You might be wondering, what does “practice competency” mean? The Community Psychology practice competencies were developed to provide a common framework to describe the skills involved in Community Psychology practice (Dalton & Wolfe, 2012). It means that someone who is a Community Psychology practitioner has mastered some or all these skills and knowledge to some extent. Community Psychology practice competency means that the community psychologist has mastered enough of the skills to implement their work in real life situations dealing with individuals and communities in need.

The Flying Pickets - Only You

Carmel - More, More, More

Ryan Broderick. Your Least Favorite Gross Viral Food Videos Are All Connected to This Guy. Eater, May 2021. URL: https://www.eater.com/2021/5/11/22430383/why-are-gross-viral-food-videos-popular-rick-lax-facebook-watch (visited on 2023-12-08).

Chain letter. December 2023. Page Version ID: 1188532303. URL: https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Chain_letter&oldid=1188532303 (visited on 2023-12-08).

Pyramid scheme. December 2023. Page Version ID: 1188350070. URL: https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Pyramid_scheme&oldid=1188350070 (visited on 2023-12-08).

The Selfish Gene. December 2023. Page Version ID: 1188207750. URL: https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=The_Selfish_Gene&oldid=1188207750 (visited on 2023-12-08).

How do you think attribution should work when copying and reusing content on social media (like if you post a meme or gif on social media)?

Evolution occurs when three conditions are present: Replication (with Inheritance) An organism can make a new copy of itself, which inherits its characteristics Variations / Mutations The characteristics of an organism are sometimes changed, in a way that can be inherited by future copies Natural Selection Some characteristics make it more or less likely for an organism to compete for resources, survive, and make copies of itself

derstand biological evolution and how it relates to the origin of the scientific term “meme.” 12.1.1. Biological Evolution# Biological evolution is how living things change, generation after generation, and how all the different forms of life, from humans to bacteria, came to be. Evolution occurs when three conditions are present: Replication (with Inheritance) An organism can make a new copy of itself, which inherits its characteristics Variations / Mutations The characteristics of an organism are sometimes changed, in a way that can be inherited by future copies Natural Selection Some characteristics make it more or less likely for an organism to compete for resources, survive, and make copies of itself When those three conditions are present, then over time successive generations of organisms will: be more adapted to their environment divide into different groups and diversify stumble upon strategies for competing with or cooperating with other organisms.

The idea of the social construction of the illness experience is based on the concept of reality as a social construction. In other words, there is no objective reality; there are only our own perceptions of it.

Increased access to passive transportation has led to more driving and less walking.

For social media content, replication means that the content (or a copy or modified version) gets seen by more people. Additionally, when a modified version gets distributed, future replications of that version will include the modification (a.k.a., inheritance). There are ways of duplicating that are built into social media platforms: Actions such as: liking, reposting, replying, and paid promotion get the original posting to show up for users more Actions like quote tweeting, or the TikTok Duet feature let people see the original content, but modified with new context. Social media sites also provide ways of embedding posts in other places, like in news articles There are also ways of replicating social media content that aren’t directly built into the social media platform, such as: copying images or text and reposting them yourself taking screenshots, and cross-posting to different sites

One critique of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act is that it will create a system of socialized medicine, a term that for many people in the United States has negative connotations lingering from the Cold War era and earlier.

Theorists using the conflict perspective suggest that issues with the healthcare system, as with most other social problems, are rooted in capitalist society.

The responsibility of the sick person is twofold: to try to get well and to seek technically competent help from a physician. If the sick person stays ill longer than is appropriate (malingers), they may be stigmatized.

When looking at the social epidemiology of the United States, it is hard to miss the disparities among races.

WREN looks down at her.

MARGOT slides out from under her and over the edge. She sinks to her knees on the Carpet in front of WREN.

WREN (V.O.)  WREN（画外音）This time, she knelt on her own.

MARGOT (V.O.)  玛戈特（画外音）One photo to Bea. Wren loses her contract. Then Bea sues.

MARGOT (V.O.)  玛戈特（画外音）Wildcat. What W calls M in bed. “野猫”。W 在床上对 M 的称呼。MARGOT (V.O.)  玛戈特（画外音）She knew. The phone. The nap. A trap. 她心里清楚。那通电话。那场小憩。是个陷阱。MARGOT (V.O.)  玛戈特（画外音）I wasn't hunting her. She was hunting me.

MARGOT (V.O.)  玛戈特（画外音）I knew it. You.  我就知道。就是你。

MARGOT (V.O.)  玛戈特（画外音）Got it. She'd never forget the night she lost.

MARGOT (V.O.)  玛戈特（画外音）No. Wait. Is it... March twelfth?

MARGOT (V.O.)  玛戈特（画外音）No. My birthday?  不。我的生日？

MARGOT (V.O.)  玛戈特（画外音）Her birthday?  她的生日？

MARGOT (V.O.)  玛戈特（画外音）Tonight I get proof you're Runner_Up. Something to shut you up.

MARGOT (V.O.)  玛戈特（画外音）You sold my left knee on a livestream. You dodged me behind the Curtain.

Give me a few minutes. I'm closing my eyes.

WREN (V.O.)  WREN（画外音）Does she read it because she wants me? Or because she wants me ruined?

WRENYou don't read it, remember?

Who said you could squeeze my hand that hard?

MARGOT (V.O.)  玛戈特（画外音）That was my test for her chapters. Now everyone knows.

MARGOT  玛戈特We're... colleagues.  我们是……同事

WRENCloser than you'd think.  比你想象的还要近。

WREN (V.O.)  WREN（画外音）Does she know I'm the author?

WREN's grip tightens on her phone. WREN 紧握着手机。

MARGOT  玛戈特Nobody knows this. The back of my left knee. That's where I'm most ticklish.

MARGOT  玛戈特Chapter seven.  第七章。

She turns slowly toward the Shared Wall.

Her fingers glide down the bare skin of MARGOT's chest and hook the earring out.

MARGOT  玛戈特Keep reading. I don't read it. You read it to me.

WREN (V.O.)  WREN（画外音）The author is right here, Margot.

Let's hope it's nobody on this set. That's a fortune in infringement fees.

MARGOT touches her left earring.

They even wrote in your Diamond Earrings, Margot. The ones you wear to every award.

BEAWho is this fanfic writer? You two hate each other. And the ship is exploding.

Red climbs from MARGOT's ear down her neck.

WREN stands behind her in a black men's shirt.

That Oscar was mine. It went to that idiot, Margot.

, MARGOT bites down hard on her lower lip.

Thus, the stifling coil of mandated silence around behaviors that do not fit within the heteronormative ideal is a breeding ground for shame in ARHMs, and the degrading discourse around anal sexuality that has historically filled the silence is further damning.

Henry nor John would never have thought of such a thing.”

Mr. Covey enjoyed the most unbounded reputation for being a first-rate overseer and negro-breaker.

From that moment, I understood the pathway from slavery to freedom

It would forever unfit him to be a slave

‘Frigidity’ was sanctioned as a diagnosis in the 1952 version of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual for Mental Disorders, but did not appear in the 1968 version, or any subsequent version. Between 1940 and 1979, the titles of fifty articles listed under Psychological Abstracts contained the term ‘frigidity’ but none after 1979 (Elliott, Citation1985). During the 1950s, The Yearbook of Obstetrics & Gynecology advised physicians to investigate patients for ‘true frigidity’ following routine gynecological check-up, but never again afterward.

week

Apect

age

Far more frequently, however, non-monogamous women have been branded (sometimes literally) as whores, slandered as sluts, ostracized, deemed mentally ill, and/or imprisoned (Edwards et al. Citation2011; Foucault Citation1982).

Reply to Objection 2.

I answer that

I help

OpenAI, Murati’s climb continued. As the nonprofit transformed into a commercial operation, she stepped naturally into VP of Applied and partnerships.

Murati didn’t jump into AI immediately. Three years into Tesla, she left to join the company Leap Motion as the vice president of product and engineering

Within weeks of the white paper, OpenAI and Microsoft formed a strategic alliance with Google and Anthropic to launch the Frontier Model Forum