During a recent visit to the supermarket to buy an emergency supply of tampons, I bumped into a friend. While checking out the range of products available we were astounded by the astronomical costs of these monthly requirements.
A packet of 10 average quality pads costs about Z$500 000, while a well-known brand of tampons averages Z$1 200 000. That’s 5% to 12% of a month’s salary for a worker in the textile industry, who earns an average Z$10 000 000 a month, and not much better for a teacher who takes home about Z$25 000 000. Some cheaper alternatives are available for about Z$300 000 a packet, but they are painful to use.
It is no secret that for most Zimbabwean women, the indignity of menstruating without proper sanitary protection is now a real pain, both literally and figuratively.
For schoolgirls, the unemployed and low-income earning working women, life now literally comes to a standstill at “that time of the month” because of inadequate protection. In desperation, some women use newspapers, old clothes and even tree bark. This has triggered an increase in vaginal infections, which most women cannot afford to get treated.
This, in turn, is leading to more violence against women as their partners, unable to distinguish between sexually transmitted infections and vaginal infections, accuse them of infidelity. Even more alarmingly, health experts warn that such infections provide an optimal environment for the spread of infections such as HIV.
Hours after that supermarket meeting, I was struck by how openly the two of us had discussed this “feminine problem” in the supermarket. Looking back, I could not recall a single incident when I had so freely talked about issues surrounding “that time of the month”. If we said anything, it was in whispers and in toilets or corners far from male ears. I guess the silence was because everything was okay when cotton wool, pads and tampons of varied quality and price were readily available in our shops.
It seems our country’s hyper-inflationary economic crisis does have a silver lining: the shortages of sanitary protection have brought women closer and lent them the courage to speak about feminine concerns in public without embarrassment.
It was probably inevitable that Zimbabwean women would gather the courage to act publicly to remedy the situation. Led by the feisty Thabitha Khumalo, of the Zimbabwe Congress of Trade Unions (ZCTU), women have organised themselves to source affordable sanitary protection as part of a campaign codenamed Dignity. Period!
In addition to speaking out about the medical and psychological dangers that these shortages pose for women and girls, the campaigners are sourcing sanitary protection from well-wishers to distribute to women throughout the country.
But the campaign has served to remind us how insensitive our current leaders are to the needs of women. This insensitivity was apparent when the first consignment that arrived in the country was held up by the Zimbabwe Revenue Authority, demanding duty of R700 000.
As a woman who can barely afford to buy a month’s supply of these necessities, what really irked me was government using this as just another opportunity to generate revenue. The argument that it was trying to safeguard local producers does not hold water, since major sanitary protection producers relocated several years ago. These are not luxury items and should be allowed into the country duty free.
This campaign has taught us that speaking out for ourselves pays. The amount of media interest that the campaign has generated has encouraged donors to support the initiative. At the same time, the publicity has helped to inform desperate and dejected women that there was help at hand.
Khumalo says that while the initial objective was to assist women affiliated to the ZCTU, the campaign has broadened its scope to include vendors, women living with HIV and schoolchildren who have been writing to the organisers asking to be included in the programme. This expansion will not only ensure all deserving women have peace of mind, but also increase the number of capable women available to help with the distribution.
What really gets me smiling is that this time round, women have not waited for a male benefactor to come forward to speak on their behalf. Instead, Zimbabwean women are doing it for themselves. Now, when I am shopping around for sanitary ware, I no longer whinge and complain. I take time to reflect how the economic meltdown is prompting Zimbabwean women to start using all those ideas and skills they have acquired over the years from workshops and seminars, to make a direct and meaningful difference to the quality of their lives. Dignity. Period! is a shining example of what women are capable of delivering.
Miriam Madziwa is a freelance journalist based in Zimbabwe. This article is part of the Gender Links Opinion and Commentary service