Zimbabwe in New York

I came to New York in 2019 for school, leaving behind a huge piece of myself in Zimbabwe. Throughout these past 4 years, I have been frantically searching for this piece. I have looked for this piece in churches, in books and in the faces of strangers I encountered on the street. It turns out, I was not looking for me, I was looking for Zimbabwe. I was looking for my mbira, to feel its metal tines and hear its melodic tune. I was looking for African print fabrics, the ones my mom and her friends wore to weddings and I always wondered why they did not just wear “normal” clothes like everyone else did on TV. I was looking and looking and looking but I never found my Zimbabwe and it felt like I could thus quite never find me .I gave up on my pursuit for a while but when this project came about, I knew I wanted to try one last time. This time I looked for Zimbabwe in my closet. I looked for her in Harlem instead of the gentrified places in the Upper West Side. I looked for my Zimbabwe like I was looking for myself, because I was. Zimbabwe in New York is Rutendo in New York. Here is what I found.

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