Black And Blue

Prologue

We all have our own bumpy rides through life. Some better than others. I'll have you know, however, that this is not the story of my life but rather the story of how I rose to the top and fell right back to rock bottom just as quickly.

The beginning of my life was a series of unfortunate events. Bringing Elaine, Tanaka Zvombo into the world wasn't quite simple. My birth came with the death of my mother and a great resentment from my father. Not to mention the fact that I was born, oddly enough, with straight, blue hair. That on its own earned me judgement and insults from multiple people. I was too young to care at the time but I could sense the lingering stares I got everytime I let my hair out in public. I often wondered why I couldn't be like the other kids, dark skinned with thick curly and coilly locks. Wondering never gave me a solid answer. So I took the matter into my own hands, I was cursed, simple and straight forward. There was nothing poetic or empowering about it, at least not to me.

I found myself sat in my room with my nose in a book often times. Reading and writing had been my closest companion since the tender age of five. It was a welcomed escape from the nightmare I lived through everyday. Though I was a curious soul my curiosity stayed tucked between the black and white pages of books a novels. There I knew I could be whoever I dreamed. Be it a princess in a shimmering blue gown and glass slippers or a witty explorer discovering a land of gold. It was a world far better than my own and I gladly welcomed the escape I got from books, not that I was convinced my life could change for the better.

I didn't really get to experience primary school. My father couldn't afford to pay the fees but he somehow always had enough for bottles of liquor. I barely remember ever seeing him sober. It was as rare as seeing a dog lay an egg. I don't blame him. He was hurting and I was a constant reminder of his pain.

My father, Thandolwethu Zvombo, was taken by a heart attack when I was no more than eleven years old. I don't remember being distressed on the day but I was confused. Though he never cared for me I did miss him. It was that splintering feeling one would feel when they loved someone who couldn't reciprocate. Though I felt it all throughout my childhood, it was oddly more prominent on the day of his passing.

He left me nothing but pictures of my dear mama who I would never know, no matter how far I went or how hard I tried. She was a star too far out of reach from me, infinite light years away, watching as I suffered through the curse that was my life. She was probably laughing too, knowing that the freak she brought into the world was suffering just as they should have been. But those were thoughts I'd save for my sleepless nights and run-ins with the cruel people of the world, which was often.

I was put into foster care and moved from house to house for about a year. I didn't mind the constant movement. After all, beggars can't be choosers. It was at the age of twelve that I was adopted by my foster parents, Jane Moyo and Tendai Tizive. In all my life I have never met people quite as kind as them. They showed a great amount of love and care to me. Way more than my father cared to show. They never let me feel alone or unloved, they gave me what my young heart had needed from the night of my birth: love. Pure and un-dieing. I allowed myself to think if my mother had survived my birth she would have given me that but I didn't know her enough to make the thought stick.

It was Jane who helped me find myself. She bought me my first vinyl record. She helped me discover my love for all things musical and gave me the ability to translate my feelings into something the world could understand. Meeting my adoptive parents gave me hope that I was, perhaps, not cursed. It made me believe that just like everyone else I could have happiness, though sometimes it was hard to believe.

My adoptive parents moved us from my home country, Zimbabwe to the United Kingdoms, where we settled in the bustling London town.

That is where my story begins. Where the spark to the fire that burnt me to ashes was lit. I like to think of it as a domino effect, where pushing that bright blue button changed everything. Like fingers were clicked and the universe felt the need to obey. Only, the good was only there to make my wounds deeper when the bad came around.

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Tanaka's story has been hovering in my mind for quite a while begging to be told. And here it is, finally! I hope it's to your liking. I'm excited, so excited to put all my ideas on here.

Random question
Do you listen to old school?

TTMN🖤