Even though I had passed high school, I still didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. My uncle worked in the government where he was responsible for recruiting trainee-nurses. I didn’t want to be a male nurse though. It just so happens that with all decisions in life, if you can’t make one for and by yourself, one will be made for you. My parents decided that I would join them in the family commercial art business in Mbare.

I reluctantly joined them. They had a small training wing at the centre, where they trained the youth to do signwriting, silk screen printings, fine arts, painting and sculpturing. I was trained in all of those fields and compiled a good portfolio of signwriting and silk screen painting within a year. I was good enough to assist with numerous orders of printed t-shirts.

My dad was well-known within the creative business industry. He had been in this field for a long time; from when the country was called Rhodesia and now that it was known as Zimbabwe. Many artists in the city had been trained at his Harare Art Centre. While hanging the printed t-shirts to dry one day, an old student of the art centre visited. They asked if there was any trainee who would be willing to work for a supermarket chain as a ticket writer. I jumped at that opportunity. I went to the interview, passed it and started working at the age of nineteen.

I was the only one in my circle of friends that had a proper job and was working at that time. It felt good earning my own money and although I still lived with my parents, I could buy most of the things I had always dreamt of buying. I couldn’t party and drink all by myself so I had to sort my friends out with alcohol too. They knew when I got paid and we would party and drink from Friday straight to Sunday.

Once I started earning money, I had many friends. We drank all sorts of alcohol, but I preferred beer. And when there wasn’t enough money for beers, we would get drunk on the traditional beer, Chibuku. It was nick named scud, after the scud missiles that were used in the war in Iraq in the 90s. At times when we didn’t have money to sustain our drinking habit, we would go to the city centre on weekends and visit all the popular wedding venues. One by one we crashed weddings, eating and being served drinks. We would check which weddings had the biggest budget. We sent scouts to the venue to assess the place; check for security, find out if invitation cards were required and if there were drinks. Then eight of my friends and I would then attend that wedding as if we were invited guests.

We became so good at crushing wedding parties that we even did it at wedding parties of those who were politically connected. At certain times we would even attend local funerals just for the booze at the “after tears”. It was customary in the Shona culture for the relatives of the diseased to hold a night vigil and keep themselves occupied by singing traditional songs and drinking beer. Alcohol took over my live that I didn’t even have time for a girlfriend.

I was able to wear the latest fashion because of my signwriting job. I spent most of my off days and free time on street corners where many girls would show an interest in me, but I simply didn’t have time for girls. My friends noticed this about me and attempted to hook me up with girls. The truth was that I was a virgin, but I acted like I was already sexually active during conversations with the guys.

I was introduced to one of my friends’ cousin; she had been staying with him and his family. She ended up being my first girlfriend. We enjoyed the time we spent together, especially when I attempted to arousing her on the street corners of the township. She had only invited me to their home once and I had my first kiss. We exchanged a piece of candy mouth to mouth. Our relationship went well for a couple of weeks, but I got annoyed.

We were spending too much time together and I missed the times I used to party with the guys. So I started to dodge her. She always seemed to find me though. She would even follow me to the bottle store and that annoyed me more than anything. My friends started making fun of how she was my ‘tail’. And this coming from one of my friends whose girlfriend’s motive was to marry him. I couldn’t bear the thought of having someone like that so eventually I dumped her.

A couple of weeks later I found out that my now ex-girlfriend had attended an initiating school called Chinamwari, where Malawian girls went to be taught how to please a man in bed. On hearing this news, most guys had a sudden interest in her. But she was still interested in me. I managed to get my message across to her to make her understand that I was no longer interested in having a relationship with her. But she was adamant and wouldn’t accept my rejecting her.

She then started to show up at my place of work announced and tried to get one of my workmates to persuade me to take her back. This only pushed me further away from her. She then backed off. I later found out that it was only because she was now dating the same friend who made fun of her following me, behind my back.

I got over all that and moved on with my life. I focused on my work and became better at signwriting. I was the youngest employee out of the 16 employees that worked at the studio. I paid more attention to my work and learned a lot from some of the older and experienced workers, which improved my signwriting. The vapour of the paints that we used started to affect my chest. When I went to see the doctor about my condition he recommended that I be moved to a different department.

The next day I started in the marketing department, where I assisted the public relations manager. He taught me how to type up invitations to company events on the typewriter. Soon I was introduced to computers and the internet. The public relations manager did not like to use a computer; she said that it ruined her nails. I had to teach myself how to use a computer and its programs.

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