So I was talking to a couple of my boys the other day, and the topic came around to “national dress”.
Specifically, one of them asked me what our national dress is, and I answered without hesitation. Nhembe, shashiko for chicks, nhabwamaringa for dudes.
In short … loin-cloths.
Problem is, we can’t walk around in fucking lon-cloths, can we? Those idiot twins tried it a few years ago, and promptly got arrested. You can’t even drive without a shirt, apparently.
So, what now? Our Zimbabwean ladies have it easy. Anyone who’s ever been to a church service, a wedding with an African theme (or a Women’s League meeting) will testify that all they need is a large Nigerian head-dress, a printed outfit and voila! Sorted.
What about us? Are we relegated to wearing those funny collar-less “African” shirts, with colours derived from across the spectrum?
Shall we wear those long-ass West African dresses like “oga” wears on TV? No thanks.
Winky D had it right. Bhachi ne jean, shati ndakapfekera mukati.
That’s our new national dress … jeans, formal shirt and a sports coat or dinner jacket. Simple. Smart. Don’t forget the watch.
Iyi yanetsa pataundi. Listen