My dearest Bophelo,

Born on women’s day You arrived on this earth on a day that celebrates the strength, resilience, and beauty of women. I’m so grateful to be your mom, and I’m honored to watch you grow and thrive.

Bophelo, you are life itself to me. You bring joy, love, and purpose to my world. As you grow and discover this world, I promise to be here for you, to support you, to guide you, and to love you unconditionally.

You are a precious gift, and I’m so proud to be your mom. I promise to do my best to raise you to be a strong, confident, and compassionate woman, who makes a positive impact in the world.

I loved the name Bophelo, which means life, because it reminds me of the gift of life that you are. You are my life, my everything.

As you grow, I’ll tell you stories about the women who came before us, who fought for our rights, who paved the way for us to live our lives with dignity and purpose. I’ll teach you about the power of women, about sisterhood, and about the importance of standing up for what is right.

But most of all, Bophelo, I’ll love you with all my heart, and I’ll be here to support you every step of the way.

My little one. I love you more than words can say.

With all my love,
Mom Sophie wa magents

The post A letter to my 3months old beautiful baby girl,BOPHELO~ By Sophie Ntsubulane appeared first on Sheevolves.world.

I became my mother’s caregiver when I was just four years old.

My mother was from Opuwo, in the Kunene region of Namibia. When I was four, she became very ill. In our area, people strongly believed in witchcraft. They thought her sickness was caused by something supernatural, something that hospitals and doctors could not fix. She was stuck in bed for weeks, and she grew weaker every day.

One day, one of my mother’s nephews came to our village for a funeral. He saw how sick she was and knew she needed more than just medicine from a doctor. He suggested to my grandfather that he take my mother to live with him so she could get traditional treatment. My grandfather agreed, and the nephew said he would come back for her later.

Even after starting the traditional treatments, my mother’s health did not get better. On her good days, when she felt a little stronger, she would wash her clothes or give me a bath—things no one else would do for me. But those good days were rare.

The Journey to Find Help

One day, my mother decided we had to leave. She was very weak, but she took me with her to hitchhike to another village. This was where her own mother was from, and it was closer to the main road to Outjo, which made it easier to find a ride. We had no money, so we relied on the kindness of people we did not know.

We stayed in that village for a few days, waiting for a free ride. I remember one very hard day when my mother was so dizzy she could not stand. She asked me to cook porridge, a huge task for a four-year-old. As I struggled with the pot over the fire, an ostrich suddenly appeared and tried to eat our food. I was so scared that I ran into the house. When I looked back, the pot had tipped over, spilling our only meal. I cried from hunger and frustration.

Our luck changed when we were waiting near some stores. A woman who knew my mother came over and gave her N$10, which was a lot of money for us at the time. While they were talking, a car stopped.
The woman knew the driver and asked if he could give us a ride, explaining that we had no money. To
our surprise, he said yes.

Midnight in a Strange Town

The driver took us past Outjo all the way to Okakarara, the town nearest to where my mother’s nephew lived. We arrived at one in the morning with no place to sleep. The kind driver let us sleep in an old canopy outside his house. It was not much, but it kept us safe.

Early the next morning, we waited for the man to wake up. When he did, he asked my mother what we planned to do. She told him she was looking for her nephew who worked in the town. The man helped us find him, and soon my mother’s nephew came to take us to his home. At his house, we met another woman from my mother’s village. She was also there for traditional treatment for an illness. When she saw that my mother was much sicker than she was, this kind woman

washed our clothes and blankets and gave me a bath. I had not had one in days. She also cooked food for us. Our last meal had been breakfast the day before. Hunger was a constant part of our lives. Whenever I told my mother I was hungry, she would tell me, “Drink water” We accepted this without complaining.

The price of help

After three days, my mother’s nephew called the relative we were supposed to stay with, and that man came to get us. That was when our real struggle began. I now see it as a kind of modern slavery.

Even though my mother was sick, she was expected to do all the housework: laundry, cleaning, and cooking for her nephew and his family. The nephew did take her to a doctor and paid for her treatment, but in return, my mother had to work for him for free, with no end in sight.

The doctor found that my mother could not eat maize meal, the main food in our region. She could only have pasta, rice, meat, or milk. But the nephew said he would not regularly buy these more expensive foods. If there was no milk, she just did not eat. When there was milk, she would pour all of it into my porridge, leaving nothing for herself.

As my mother grew sicker from the hard work and lack of good food, I had to do even more. By the time I was six, I was washing her clothes and cooking for both of us.

School and Separation

When I turned seven, it was time for me to start school. My mother and I were sent to Okakarara to stay with her nephew’s son, who was the principal of the primary school I would attend.

Because my mother could not read or write, the only work she could find was as a domestic worker. She needed money for my school fees, so she took a job cleaning houses and looking after the children for one of my teachers. Her first full paycheck all went toward my education.

To earn more money and pay for the small outside room we lived in – which had only a toilet and no bathroom – my mother took on extra jobs. I helped by raking yards, and she washed clothes on weekends while working her main job during the week. We did all this just to have one meal a day and a roof over our heads. I slept on the floor of our little room and often got sick with the flu during the cold winters.

A Friend’s Kindness

I had a friend whose mother was also a teacher at my school. One day after school, she came home with me. When she saw how we lived, she told her mother. Her mother came to talk to me and asked if I would like to stay with their family on school days and come back to my mother on weekends. My mother agreed, hoping I would have a proper bed and regular meals. This only lasted for a month before the owner of our room became unhappy with the arrangement, and I had to go back to sleeping on the floor.

There were other small hurts, too. The principal, my mother’s nephew’s son, drove to school every morning with his wife and their two children. But he always left me behind. I had to take the bus to the very school where he was in charge. Even as a child, I wondered why he would not give me a ride, but I knew not to ask an adult such a question. This was our routine until the school year ended.

The Final Separation

During the December holidays, my mother’s nephew bought a farm and planned to move there in January. When the time came, they moved to the farm, and my mother went with them to continue her unpaid work. But there was no place for me there.

That is how I ended up being sent to boarding school, separated from the mother I had cared for since I was four years old.

To read Jasana’s emotional and inspiring story about her experiences at boarding school, click on the following link:

Growing Up In A Boarding School By Jasana Uandia

By: Jasana

Instagram: Jasana Ijemue Uandia

Facebook: Jasana Ijemue Uandia

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The Pain of Miscarrying the seed you looked forward to seeing
Miscarriage, you are a thief
Miscarriage, you are cruel
Miscarriage, you are a restless wanderer, searching for the warriors of this earth whom you can attack.
I am talking about our mothers, our women, our birthers
Miscarriage, you never consider, but do as you please
I am enough of you.

It is our young mothers who have a choice to terminate if they want to.
It is our young child carriers who decide if they will keep or destroy the innocent seed, but little do they know the pain of losing,
Only if they knew how it feels when you, I mean, you Miscarriage when you arrive and destroy.
The tears, the pain, the sorrow, the fights.
Miscarriage, you are cruel.
Miscarriage, you are a restless wanderer, searching for the warriors of this earth whom you can attack.

Blessed is the womb.
Blessed is the woman.
Blessed is the process of giving birth.
I am talking about our mothers, our women, our birthers
Miscarriage, you never consider, but do as you please
I am enough of you.

Miscarriage, please take a step back.
Let go and let nature take its course
Let loose and allow people to multiply in numbers
Let go and stop the pain and tears dripping from our sisters and mothers of this country.
Let you be and allow joy and fresh souls around.
The Pain of Miscarrying the seed you looked forward to seeing
Miscarriage, you are a thief
Miscarriage, you are cruel
Miscarriage, you are a restless wanderer, searching for the warriors of this earth whom you can attack.

May the spirit of Miscarriage fade off!!!

By: Nonny Vee

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The Forgotten Aspect of Pregnancy: Supporting Mental and Emotional Well-being.

Pregnancy is a life-changing experience that brings immense joy and anticipation. However, it can also be a daunting and overwhelming time for many women. While financial and material support is essential, it’s equally crucial to prioritize the mental and emotional well-being of pregnant women.

The Unseen Struggles:
1. Anxiety and fear: The uncertainty of motherhood, fear of childbirth, and concerns about the baby’s health can create significant anxiety.
2. Mood swings: Hormonal changes can lead to unpredictable mood swings, making it challenging for women to cope.
3. Body image issues: The physical changes during Pregnancy can affect self-esteem and body confidence.
4. Relationship strain: Pregnancy can pressure relationships, leading to feelings of isolation and disconnection.

The Importance of Emotional Support:
1. Reducing stress: Emotional support can help alleviate stress and anxiety, promoting a healthier pregnancy.
2. Building confidence: A supportive network can boost self-esteem and confidence, empowering women to take on motherhood.
3. Fostering resilience: Emotional support can help women develop coping strategies, enabling them to navigate the challenges of Pregnancy and motherhood.
4. Encouraging open communication: A supportive environment encourages women to express their feelings, concerns, and fears, promoting open communication and connection.

Ways to Support Pregnant Women Emotionally
1. Listen without judgment: Allow women to express their feelings and concerns without interrupting or judging.
2. Validate their emotions: Acknowledge and validate their feelings, helping them feel understood and supported.
3. Encourage self-care: Support women in prioritizing self-care activities, such as exercise, meditation, or hobbies.
4. Foster a supportive community: Connect women with other expectant mothers or new parents, creating a network of support and connection.

In conclusion, Pregnancy is a holistic experience encompassing physical, emotional, and mental well-being. While financial and material support is essential, it’s equally important to prioritize the emotional and mental health of pregnant women. By providing supportive and non-judgmental environment, we can empower women to navigate the challenges of Pregnancy and motherhood with confidence and resilience.

I am Mom Sophie Wamagents

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She Evolves, a movement born
A call to action, a heart that’s sworn
To be the change, to make a stand
To nurture growth, with a gentle hand.

A Tree Planted is a story told
Of dreams and hopes, of a future to mold
With every seed, a vision takes root
A symbol of strength, a beacon of fruit.

She Evolves, a community strong
United in purpose, with a shared song
To empower, to uplift, to inspire and grow
To cultivate change, as the trees begin to show.

Their motto echoes, a mantra so true
A tree planted is a story anew
Of resilience, of courage, of heart and soul
A testament to the power that makes us whole.

She Evolves, a movement that’s real
A journey of growth, where love and hope reveal
The potential within, the change that’s yet to be
A tree planted is a story waiting to be set free.

I am mom’ Sophie Wamagents

A She-Evolves proud Change Maker

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Facebook: Sophie Ntsubulane

The post She Evolves – A Poem by Sophie Ntsubane appeared first on Sheevolves.world.

My name is Martha Nambisa. I was born and raised in the Vaal Triangle, Sharpeville. I am 35 years old and have three kids.

My eldest daughter is 18, yes! She’s immensely grown, and the responsibilities have forced her to age quickly.

My first child was still at school when I fell pregnant. Baby daddy did agree to be responsible for it, but upon the birth of the child, he only assisted me financially for the first year of the child, and then he vanished.

The other 2 have the same dad, but unfortunately, their dad is late. Their dad passed during the chaotic riots in Sharpeville, and till today, we don’t know his killers. It was one morning, very hot, and I felt like a different hit on the day. We woke up to the typical day, which began with the chores, and before we knew it, there were people screaming and whistling, and guys had to go and represent their homes. Only if I knew that this was the last time I saw him.

He went out with his object because everyone had something in hand. They went to the side of the big shop where they were protesting. Police were already on standby, ready to mitigate and cool off the anger. Still, with the slate they had and the few among the crowd were raving in rage because of what the politicians told them for their selfish reasons, both the protesters and the police could not come to an agreement. Fights began, it was very chaotic, and before we could make sense of one, one boy came home running with the bad news: my man had died on the scene.

Till today, I haven’t had peace within. I still feel like justice should have been served.  I tried counseling, but it does not help; maybe it’s too early to heal, but with all the sessions that I have attended, my wound is still open and bleeds every chance I get.

I am unemployed. I live off social grants for my 2 kids because the elder one has reached the age and was cut off. My elder daughter does part-time jobs at Shoprite only when they need a reliever for the day, especially on holidays. It is nothing much she earns, but the little we get goes a long way.

I have been through a lot emotionally. I hope I’ll finally reach peace and a breakthrough to give my kids the better lives they deserve.

The post A Proud Mother of 3 beautiful kids appeared first on Sheevolves.world.

My name is Christian Mwandingi. I’m from Namibia and a single mother of 4 sons.

This is my love story of going through rejection by all four fathers of my 4 children when each one of them abandoned me the day he found out that I was pregnant.

My family and friends also misunderstood me and gave up on me, mocking me, gossiping about me and calling me names. It was very hard for me to take care of my kids alone from the 1st one to the 4rth one without their fathers or family support, and I was not working.

Seeing all my four children growing up without knowing their father’s love and even their faces was excruciating.

Many people would wonder why I never learnt my lesson from the first pregnancy, but life has its way of rolling out, and with blind sight, you might delay seeing a pattern.

I cried every day from my 1st pregnancy until the fourth. I have tried so hard to keep the relationship with the fathers of my kids, but things always end up the way I don’t want them to be.

History kept repeating itself until my last child, when I decided to go to church for delivery, and thanks to God, things are getting better.

The post Golden love story appeared first on Sheevolves.world.

Mama, you traitor!

Mama promised me a quiet holiday,
While he promised me a quiet night,
Just us and the stars.

Two days, he said,
Two days I’d promised him,
Two days at Mama’s village.
A land where whispers linger in the fog,
Where news travels faster than curious neighbors peering over the fence,
And where the thatched huts groan under the weight of secrets.

Shadows play differently here,
Dancing on the rooftop
As aunts, cousins, and great-aunts count
The hours until my interrogation.
And Mama, oh my Mama.
She still dreams of schemes,
Plotting ways to make me stay.

Now here I am,
Entertaining guests,
Some don’t even know my name.
And Mama, oh my Mama.
She’s busy spilling my secrets.
Mama, you traitor!

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To all the times I took her for granted!!!

Growing up, I had always felt a little out of place, a little offbeat compared to the polished lives I saw around me. Other girls had lives that seemed to run on straight paths, like highways with clear exits, well-marked signs, and promises of destinations. Mine felt like a winding dirt road full of twists, lined with wildflowers that Mama said were weeds. “Don’t let them fool you,” she would say, pulling me close, “they’re tougher than they look, and sometimes the prettiest things don’t come from the easiest places.”

I never understood why Mama tried so hard. I thought she was holding herself to impossible standards. And maybe, on some level, she was. But looking back now, I realize she was teaching me the strength of survival and the beauty of resilience, even if it meant sacrificing herself in ways I never quite understood.

As a young girl, I didn’t see the sacrifices she made. I saw her hands; they were always busy and moving. I saw the sleepless nights, the tear-stained cheeks she tried to hide behind her gentle smile, the way she’d clean up the broken pieces of every little disaster I’d cause. To me, Mama was invincible. She was fierce, unbreakable—a warrior in her quiet way. But now, after a life-changing event, I’m beginning to understand how much of that strength came at a price.

It took a heart attack to bring me to this point, to see life as the fragile, fleeting thing it truly is. When the doctor said “heart attack,” I laughed like it was an involuntary response to the absurdity of it. I didn’t feel strong, and I didn’t feel brave. All I felt was a gnawing fear. I thought of Mama, of how she might look at me with those eyes that always saw too much, that knew the weight of suffering but carried it with a dignity I never managed to imitate. And for the first time, I truly wondered what she would say if she knew just how much of her I had taken for granted.

I don’t know if I’ll ever fully forgive myself for the mistakes and pain I’ve caused. But I know I can keep trying and honour Mama’s memory by living a life that reflects her values, strength, and compassion. I can strive to be the person she believed I could be, even if I fall short. Ultimately, I realize that Mama’s love was her greatest gift to me. It was her legacy, her unspoken promise that I was worth fighting for, even when I couldn’t see it myself.

She tried, in every way she knew how, to show me what it meant to be strong, resilient, and whole. And though I may have taken her for granted and failed her in ways I’ll never fully understand, I know I can carry her lessons forward and live a life honouring her spirit. I will keep going for Mama, myself, and all the people I have yet to love. I will fight the battles worth fighting, let go of the ones that aren’t, and strive to live a life that reflects the lessons she taught me.

Mama tried, and now, so will I.

https://www.facebook.com/muhonja.magdalyne?mibextid=ZbWKwL

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Rebecca W. Mtegha is a remarkable woman who pours her heart into a cause that resonates deeply with her: ensuring that every child, regardless of their learning disabilities, has easy and convenient access to quality education. Rebecca is a steadfast advocate for neurodivergent learners, a journey that began with her daughter’s struggles to find suitable education within a reasonable distance of their community.

As a mother of a child with special needs, Rebecca understands the overwhelming challenges faced by caregivers. The situation often feels overwhelming and difficult to make sense of, highlighting the need for self-care and general well-being for the caregiver to remain physically and mentally fit. She has personally navigated financial hurdles, from the high costs of supplements to special diets, making her well aware of the extensive resources required to support neurodivergent children.

Fueled by her experiences, Rebecca founded a Learning Centre in Mzuzu, Malawi, dedicated to promoting special education for children with learning disabilities. Her vision is not only about academic achievement but also about nurturing functional skills and uncovering unique talents among neurodivergent children. The centre, which caters to children aged 5 to 17, serves as a place full of hope where every child is valued and given a chance to thrive in a judgment-free environment. It offers services, including specialized education, psychosocial support, and various extracurricular activities designed to foster growth and independence.

Rebecca and her team are more than educators; they are ambassadors of change within their community. Through awareness campaigns, they spread the message that every child deserves an equal chance to learn and grow. This work is crucial in a society where understanding and support for neurodivergent individuals are still evolving.

Running such a center in an African community is not easy, especially when you are facing several challenges like scarce resources and a shortage of specialists in the field. Despite these obstacles, Rebecca’s resolve remains determined. She firmly believes in the fundamental right of every child to receive an education that respects their abilities and encourages them to reach their potential.

Her commitment extends beyond the classroom walls. With a passion for mental health and well-being, she has been involved in initiatives like organizing tree-planting campaigns, which align with the She Evolves community’s dedication to conservation. For Rebecca, conservation is about creating a sustainable future where all individuals, regardless of their differences, can grow and thrive.

Two years into this journey, Rebecca continues to face each challenge with grace and determination, motivated by a steadfast vision of inclusivity in education. Her work emphasizes the need for hope, love, and perseverance in the face of adversity. She dreams of a future where every child, no matter their learning ability, is happy, supported, and able to focus on their strengths. In

Rebecca’s perspective, success isn’t just measured by academic achievements. It’s in the smile of a child discovering their own capabilities, the confidence of a community embracing diversity, and the promise of a future where every voice is heard and valued. She, her daughter, and her team embody the spirit of “being the change you want to see in the world,” making the impossible seem possible.

Written By Rebecca

Editor: Mutshidzi Kwinda

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