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Adapting ‘Harvest of Thorns’ for stage was fun all the way, but very tough: Chinodya

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 picture: Benjamin being interrogated at the war front.
Shimmer Chinodya’s internationally acclaimed novel of 1989, Harvest of Thorns, was adapted for stage and presented during the recent Harare International Festival of the Arts (Hifa) as a stage drama. It was staged to a capacity crowd on April 30, 2013 at 7 Arts Theatre in Harare, Zimbabwe. In the spirit of encouraging the notion of adaptation, I caught up with Shimmer Chinodya and talked about the goings on behind the scenes.



CHIRERE: Harvest of Thorns got so much international recognition, winning you The Common Wealth Prize for Literature (Africa Region) in 1990. What place does this novel hold in your life and career?


CHINODYA: It was my literary breakthrough. Mind you, I was only twenty seven when I started it but few people realise it was my fourthnovel. It took me places, carved me a niche in Zimbabwean and world literature. It was staple reading for a whole generation of Zimbabweans and foreigners. It became an ‘O’ level literature text for Zimbabwe in the 90s and was taught in universities and colleges worldwide and read by people in the street. Harvest’s success challenged and spurred me to write more. I went on to write seven other books of fiction, and two of them, Chairman of Fools and the Noma Award winning Strife have been prescribed as ‘A’ level set texts. The success of these and scores of my textbooks used in the SADC region made me quit my last job as Professor of Creative Writing at St Lawrence University, New York, to return home and take up full time writing as a career. And I haven’t looked back!


CHIRERE: But you are not known for theatre…


CHINODYA: Oh, yes, I do have some grounding in theatre. With sixty published books under my belt, you bet there isn’t a literary genre I haven’t handled. In my brief high school teaching spell I directed three plays for Open Days. Exactly thirty years ago, in 1983, I adapted my dear, beloved first novel, Dew in the Morning, into a 40 episode radio drama for the then Radio 4 and I even narrated, directed and co-produced it! Then in 1987, I wrote and published a collection of Plays for Schools under the pseudonym B.S. Chirasha and it was   favourably reviewed by Stephen Chifunyise in The Herald. I went on to do film work, winning the first prize in the Short Films Scripts and Ideas competition in 1992 with my ‘Run, Boy, Run’ and attending a Frank Daniel script writing course. I wrote the story and script draft for the feature film, Everyone’s Child and the producer, John Riber, invited me to direct it but I couldn’t because I had to take up the professorship in the States so they roped in Tsitsi Dangarembga. Now, directing a film, that would have been some adventure..! And I’m not scared one bit of artistic adventures!     


CHIRERE: Adaptations are not common in Zimbabwe. How did you come up with the idea to adapt Harvest for the stage? And why Harvest, of all your novels?


CHINODYA:  There had been several offers to make a film of Harvest and in 1995, the great Senegalese director Djibril Diop Mambety (of ‘Hyenas’ fame) and producer Tariq Ali had agreed to work on the project with a company called Bandung. I even did the treatment but the fundraising hit the rocks...Now in the last two years, I have been ardently watching Zimbabwean theatre and I thought; some of our theatre is so tame, fireside or sitting room affairs ‘manufactured’ for convenient NGO causes or topical interests with short life spans and I said to myself, why don’t I do something really big and beautiful and artsy with our history and our culture and our classics and POP! Harvest came up! Because, many people say, the book is an epic and is so graphic and it already wrote itself out as a drama.        


CHIRERE: What guided you towards which parts to bring into Harvest as drama and which sections to leave out?


CHINODYA: The storyline was not difficult to maintain. It was the compressing that was difficult. When you have to tell a huge 50 year story in 90 minutes and using four different genres; theatre, music, dance and storytelling, you have to be ruthless to your own work. Some parts that worked beautifully as prose like protagonist Benjamin Tichafa’s interior monologues or reminiscences of the 60s, for instance, had to be sacrificed to save time. Perhaps Clopas and Shamiso’s romantic comedy took up too much time. Benjamin’s predicament and mental turmoil could have been explored more. But that is drama, you have to have a take, an angle and sacrifice some aspects. With prose the canvas is much wider and the artist is freer to indulge her/himself.


CHIRERE:What was it like doing the adapted script itself? Was it like a rewriting or a revision? Or, a new challenge?


CHINODYA: It was fun all the way, but very tough - rediscovering my characters and interrogating their predicaments, a quarter of a century later! The characters and issues emerged like swimmers out of the blue, clearer, sharper. The cast members immediately warmed up to their roles and I must thank them for their practical suggestions; every evening we would whittle and refine the story. It was a real team effort. I gave them the story and they brought their various skills to nurture it to life. The real challenge was to blend in the various genres so that none of them ‘bullied’ the others, and all worked together smoothly to create a fresh and delightful product.


CHIRERE: Harvest of Thorns is a novel partly about war and sometimes real combat. I understand that you have never been a combatant. How did you come up with the sections on contacts? Where did you get the confidence?


CHINODYA: Memory and imagination, Mr Chirere! Remember I was expelled from Goromonzi in 1976 for protesting against black call up. I could easily have run off to Mozambique and joined the ‘boys’. We heard the propaganda. We heard vivid reports from the war zones. I heard the misplaced blasts at downtown Woolworths from the Manfred Hodson Hall, college green and saw the fuel tanks blaze in Southerton in the late 70s. We lost relatives or family members in landmine blasts and ‘crossfire’ and witnessed atrocities from either side. When you saw in my play that old demented woman dazedly picking up children’s body parts and stuffing them into a paper bag after the Rhodesian bombings, the very next morning after the infants had been gleefully chanting ‘The Chimurenga alphabet’, that was a fusion of history and art.    


CHIRERE: This is a novel of 1989, how did it gain or lose from being adapted in 2012/13, about 24 years later?


CHINODYA: Artists must not always push their thumbs into the bowl of history. We tried to capture things as they were right up to just after independence. The true judge of history is time. Artistic distance often sharpens perception. I suppose some people expected the ‘thorns’ to extend from the woes of the Tichafas to our present day problems, the economic meltdown, potholes, poisoned environment, endemic corruption and protracted political strife and insipid despair. I didn’t want to overload the story. I opted to let Hope Masike jazz up the ending with her wonderfully distilled lyrics for Benjamin’s ‘bornfree’ son, Zvenyika in the last song –  Zvenyika woye, wotoshinga mwanawe/ Baba havana chavanacho/Mai ipwere/Wotoshinga Zvenyika mwanawe.


CHIRERE: You wrote this novel; Harvest of Thorns. You adapted this story for stage. You directed the stage play. You have done three things with this story. Don’t you think the product could have been different if somebody had adapted and directed?


CHINODYA: Correction; four things. I also produced it! I admit it probably might have been a different thing if we had brought in other brains to work on it, but you don’t always get the vision and commitment – intellectual, financial and the time you envisage from your colleagues. Besides, who says a good writer cannot try a hand at directing – many great African writers, Soyinka, Ousmane etc, have done it. An excellent script is the ultimate director. I approached quite a few people and was generally met with cynicism and indifference or lukewarm commitment. So I said, Damn, I will do this myself, but tap on the skills already within the cast. Hope Masike is an accomplished musician, Maylene is one of the best dancers in the country and Charles, Chipo, Bob, Everson and Sitshengisiwe are experienced actors and for Christ’s sake,  Shimmer has a superb story and great script so we will make this a team product…You sometimes need that hardnosed egoism to create something novel and shake up the industry.


CHIRERE: Doing the script is one thing but working with actors is totally different. What were the challenges of identifying an appropriate cast and working with it?


CHINODYA: Most of the cast was handpicked. I had seen them on the stage or knew their work. I had to charm them into believing we were onto something different. I tapped into their various talents. Everybody contributed. The script metamorphosed, refined itself. It was a difficult and demanding script, but we argued and interacted – and hopefully came out of it better artists ourselves. You bet after this my own writing is going to be different…  


CHIRERE: We notice that some people who were indicated in the papers as being in this play were not there. Who really made the final line up?


CHINODYA: Actors Michael Kudakwashe, Notando Nobengula and Caroline Mashingaidze dropped out because of clashes with other engagements, but only after we had submitted their names to Hifa, so the media inadvertently included their names in the project. I had invited Albert Nyathi to be the producer; I am grateful to him for his apt advice in the two or three initial consultative meetings we had, but he got tied up with other projects and that left me with the additional task of actually producing the show. The final line up was: Actors Charles Matare, Chipo Bizure, Everson Ndlovu, Sitshengisiwe Siziba, Bob Mutumbe, Winnie Moyo, Tafadzwa Takadiyi and Vhusa Dzimwasha; Musicians Hope Masike and her band members Elisha Hererwa, Blessing Chimanga and Maxwell Mbukuro; dancers Maylene Chenjerai and Marvin Ndoro. And yours truly tripled up as writer, director and producer.  


CHIRERE: The mbira and songs by Hope Masike and company were wonderful. How did you come up with all these?


CHINODYA: Hope Masike is an absolute beauty to work with. She’s energetic, versatile, intelligent and professional. She won this year’s Nama award for best female musician. She was my first recruit for the project; as early as November 2012 we’d meet twice a week to discuss the project and I’m grateful for her enthusiasm and willingness to hear me out which gave me the confidence to think out the project to her. She (like all the subsequent cast members) read my novel and liked it.  I’d say to her, can you do these two chapters in a two minute song or do a war refrain or back up this interior monologue with sad  blues mbira  and she’s be back three days later with a couple of tunes. I’d drive her out to Domboshawa or Goromonzi or Cleveland Dam and she would pluck up Nhemamusasa, chimurenga, or mbira jazz  and I would hand her a plate of mazhanje and tease, ‘Njuzu munodyawo here muchero?’Her music was not merely decorational, it became part of the story, part of the drama.         


CHIRERE: The story ends up in a happier way than the novel; a new baby, a meeting and conversation between father and son… Were you answering to some of your critics who might have told you that the novel has a sad ending?


CHINODYA: Art must ultimately uplift the human spirit. The happy ending grew out of the comical slant of the play, the celebratory reminiscences of the 60s, of the kwela dances, the ability of the soul, particularly the Zimbawean psyche, to heal itself and regenerate. The last jazz song united the whole cast, and jazz is not always happy or sad music, rather it is mumhanzi wekugaya, a thinker’s music, just like Zimbabwe is a thinker artist’s terrain.   


CHIRERE: I saw that most of your cast are generally below age 40 and they didn’t directly experience the war of liberation and the music and dress of the 1960s. How much work was done and what were the challenges?


CHINODYA: Most of the cast members had read the novel. The material was mostly alien to them and I had to explain to them some aspects of the war, for instance, the political ferment in the 60s, the war effort itself, Chinese torture, the Chimoio bombings, the treatment of traitors and the human foibles of the combatants. For nearly all the cast, the material was an education. But Charles Matare, the main actor, who had previously excelled as The Colonel in Wusiku, a play which earned him the Nama Award for this year, choreographed the war sequences. I am in fact very grateful to Matare for ably assisting me in the theatrical direction throughout the play.    


CHIRERE: This show was advertised as ‘Zimbabwe’s first full scale musical.’ I think that was misleading. 1. It was not a musical but a drama with background music. 2. There have been musicals in Zimbabwe before. An Offshoot of the Ecumenical Arts Workshop experiences was the widely-acclaimed passion cantata composed by Abraham Maraire (Dumi). He called the cantata 'Mazuva Ekupedzisa' (The Last Days) in reference to the week of the passion of Jesus up to Easter. Maraire's cantata was a true musical. The narrator sang his part and all the actors in their various roles (Simon Peter, Mary the mother of Jesus, Mary Magdalene, Judas Iscariot, Pontius Pilate etc) sang their parts. So how was this error made and how could this have been taken by the audience?


CHINODYA: The error was a promotional oversight which I tried, but failed, to stop and I am aware of it and apologize for it. I would have preferred to call the show Harvest of Thorns Classic and will do so from now on. Whatever it was we staged, dozens of people phoned afterwards to say they enjoyed the show and the music and the dance and said the story gelled beautifully and we should take it round the world.  Of course there were slips, areas that need to be polished up. Mind you, that HIFA premier was the very first time we got the thing together with script changes, props and lights and the whole cast together on one proper stage, and if we present it again and again we could definitely end up with a Zimbabwean gem.


CHIRERE: Why was there a decision for Hope Masike and band to be visible throughout when the band was not physically interacting with the acting? Why didn’t you keep the band behind the scene?


CHINODYA: That was a technical decision, Memory. We decided that curtaining off the band every time they stopped playing, or having them slip off stage would be too cumbersome, so we had them blacked out and the lights on the action on the front stage when the band was not singing.


CHIRERE: You will agree with me that we need more of these adaptations. What would you say to other writers who would want to do this with their novels?


CHINODYA: It’s easier said than done. It’s damn expensive, a no go area for ‘pump price’ artists. For the record; our revered Culture Fund gave me not a cent – I have half the mind to approach and co-opt a committee of established artists from across the arts to fundthe Fund itself! I am very grateful to HIFA, to Gavin Peter and Elton Mjanana, in particular, for their generous vision, for believing in the project as something that could showcase combined Zimbabwean talent and underwriting the bulk of the budget. Adaptations need blocks of time – solid months of sheer hard work – not the sort of thing to try when you have been grading seminar papers all day, shuffling legal files or balancing company financial sheets or running a multiplicity of small time errands like every other Zimbo. And you need a broad enough vision and knowledge to see the interconnectedness of the arts – music, drama, visual art, dance, literature and how one art form ultimately feeds on the other. When the Book Café offered FREE screenings of a Miles Davis documentary and the main 70s Woodstock film last year, there was not a single musician or writer present – just one Thomas Brickhill and me and just a handful of other spectators. SHAME! Too many of our writers are a lethargic lot – they don’t realize Miles Davis is a haunting musical preface of  Marechera, Vera, Chiundura Moyo,  Mungoshi, of us all full time scribes. They don’t realize Woodstock is a great epic of history, the 60s quest for freedom and human rights and the inescapable cannibalism of creativity. For me Sororenzou Nyamasvisva and Maungira eNharira’s aching mbira captures and evokes my tortured interface with the past and the present in my novel Strife. Hey, maybe I’ll adapt that one next! Well, I can’t speak for my colleagues if they want to try it but I wish them the best of luck – and stamina! It’s painfully delicious fun, like all serious art, anyway. (The End)    





The Negro Speaks Of Rivers

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The Negro Speaks Of Rivers


I've known rivers:
I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the
flow of human blood in human veins.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
went down to New Orleans, and I've seen its muddy
bosom turn all golden in the sunset.
I've known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.



+Langston Hughes wrote "The Negro Speaks of Rivers" while on a train ride to Mexico, where he would live with his father for one year. He had just graduated from high school in Cleveland, Ohio, making him a mere eighteen years old. The poem was published in Crisis Magazine (the magazine of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People) in 1921, a year later. When his train crossed the Mississippi River, Hughes was inspired by its beauty and was also reminded of its role in sustaining slavery in America. The sun was setting, and Hughes had a long journey ahead of him. He took out a letter his father had written him and wrote this poem on the back of its pages.

Preserve without being conservative: Ignatius Mabasa

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This writing is a reaction and perhaps a reflection. I have a question that is corroding my heart like seeds inside a rattle.



What is it that gives us legitimacy as Zimbabweans to the claim that we are the owners of mbira and marimba music, muchongoyo dance, the maputi snack, the nhodo game and such other cultural products?



Is it just because historically these cultural arts or heritage are attributed to Zimbabwe? Was soccer not invented in England but has now become a religion in Brazil, Spain and even Africa.



I am afraid that our days of claiming to be the people who own mbira and marimba music or Shona sculpture and such other heritages are gone and the centre no longer holds.



Like a deserted bird’s nest full of droppings acts as the only reminder that some bird once inhabited it, I fear that we risk being left holding on to resonators (mateze), snuff (bute) and other ritual regalia like ceremonial axes (makano), traditional cloths (maretso and others), while the soul of the music departed a long time ago.



While cultural heritage is passed down from previous generations, there are some forms of this heritage that require more than just receiving and passing on.



Generally, music requires passion, love, practice and attention to detail. And good traditional music is not made possible just because we Zimbabweans are closer to the ancestors than Americans or Asians.



Neither is good traditional music made possible because we wear dreadlocks and smoke weed. Good traditional music like any other music is a result of patience, passion and practice and more practice.



Some friends living in Santa Fe, USA, recently sent me a marimba CD by an American group called Polyphony Marimba. When I received the CD, I kept it for a few days because I told myself it is probably one of those feeble attempts by white people to play our music. But after listening to the marimba CD by Peter and Raven Swing, it knocked my socks off.



I never imagined marimba music could be so perfect, seamless, flawless to the point of almost making a seed that is resting its sleepy head in the darkness of the soil germinate. If I were the godfather of superlatives, I could have explained better how Polyphony Marimba through their music managed to start a fire without faggots.



The Polyphony Marimba music reminded me of what the wind did to a lost and lonely bird’s tufted feather when I was herding cattle as a young boy in Mount Darwin.



The wind would snatch and toss the feather in the sky, making it dance a dance unknown to feathers.
The wind would take the feather places as if mocking the bird that lost that very feather by saying I can still fly without you. Indeed, mbira and marimba music is flying high without us in very far away foreign lands and cultures.



Although you will not get a lot of information on their website, Polyphony Marimba were mentored by the late Dumisani Maraire, father of mbira princess Chiwoniso
Maraire.



From their efforts, one can see that the impact of inter-cultural dialogue is long term. Their website says, “Come enjoy roots music of Zimbabwe; dance as we keep alive the music of our mentor, Dumi Maraire, who ‘put the rock & roll in marimba!’



“Listen as we branch out into the songs of Peter and Raven Swing. We offer you vital and complex rhythms, a powerful acoustic tone, beautiful uplifting melodies, danceable and unique.”



I think what makes Polyphony Marimba music addictive, beautiful and unique is the care, the love and time that was invested in making the music. But, the most important ingredient that they added is innovation!



Who would have thought of rocking and rolling Shona traditional music? Speaking as an artiste myself, I can boldly say locally, most artistes are afraid of experimenting.



We tend to be satisfied with the same old things and yet the world is moving, if not flying. And that is where we are losing out - sitting and watching things happen to us, to our cultural heritage.



I know there are proponents for the preserving of our cultural heritage - raw and uncooked. While it is good to be custodians, there is a danger of being custodians that lose or destroy that which they are supposed to keep alive because we are failing to innovate, to repackage to dissect and even turn things on their head.



Doesn’t the proverb say some things need to be tried, the old woman from Chivi cooked stones and people enjoyed the stone soup. Experimenting busts formality and stagnation, it gives us wings.



Things are happening to our culture and heritage and whether we like it or not, we should not see these happenings as a tragedy, but as an opportunity to preserve without being conservative.



Ignatius Mabasa, The Herald, Friday 7 June 2013


http://www.herald.co.zw/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=81431:artistes-must-try-new-things&catid=43:entertainment&Itemid=135#.UbJ4FZiDQcA

The writer and the trauma of Childhood.

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Someone once remarked that writers need to have had lots of childhood trauma to write great works, or something to that effect. That is not to mean that every piece of writing is exactly an autobiography. The strong assumption is that every writer has suffered a trauma or benefited from unusual experiences of mental excitement in childhood, which eventually turns the individual into a writer or these moments turn up constantly in the writer’s work…



Below I capture the intimate moments when various Zimbabwean writers have talked about important definitive moments in their childhoods. If you have read some of their works, these narratives could be very revealing. Look carefully and come up with your own observations:



 

Shimmer Chinodya talks to Anne Gagiano, 2010:


I write because… to echo maybe one of my favourite writers who is a Greek-American writer, his name is Harry Mark Petrakis, and he says writing is a process by which we, by which the writer, revisits memories of suffering and refashions them and softens them and lyricizes them and comes up with something which is more palatable, something which is more endurable. I think for me writing is like revisiting old pains, old memories, old troubles, old problems and doing something with them and coming up with something which is palatable, more digestible … swallowable, if you like. That is for me what writing is about. It’s about suffering and the artistic endeavour to create something possibly out of pain…


 


Two things: I think authors often say, ‘write about what you know’. I hate to read books where the writer creeps around and you think all the characters are plucked out of the sky and pasted onto the page with no conviction of there being any felt experience or any felt feelings. I very much like to write about what I know, but secondly, I need a vision of existence. You can’t be a writer and not have a vision. You need to impose your own views of life, your own view of [life], your own view of change and relationships … I saw a black actor being interviewed and they said to him, “But aren’t you an egoist?” And he said, “Of course I am an egoist, why should I go on stage if I am not?” Now I don’t want to go that far but I think artists are by nature egoists. Even if they’re writing about what [general life is like]. But their [egoism stems from their] view of life, their view of existence and a good writer must [change you, or must let you change your view, and must get people thinking about problems…] that’s what egoism is. I think.



Charles Mungoshi talks to Mai Palberg on 30 September 2003:
I don't know what else I should have become. I don't know how these things come about, but I think my parents wanted me to be something else, and even as late as, well, just before Walking Still was published, which is about five years ago, my mother said, "I'd wish you'd burn your library". Anyway, she didn't mean it and some good things have happened also. It probably has got to do with having your nose in the book and hardly saying anything at all to anyone; I am talking about when I was growing up.

But I always want to think that it was the loneliness, the way I grew up that led to my choice of career. It was not a career that I chose, I think it chose me. Traditionally in Shona culture you live in a round village and with the head of the kraal, somewhere there. But some time in the 1950s my father had to move from our village to start a farm of his own, a farm in the modern sense, with machines and all the modern technology, although not that productive.

This farm was about 17-something acres and you could get out with 20, 25 to 30 head of cattle for the whole day, feeding on wild fruits and you did not come back home until probably five o'clock in the evening. So most of the time I was alone...
And in school, when on Monday, Wednesday and Friday pupils stayed over after school – which closed at about 1 o'clock – to do sports or outdoor games, my father made sure that I didn't join the other pupils in those games.

My sisters being girls, I couldn't herd cattle with them. I couldn't work with them because they were women and they would be with our mother doing other things, so I was always almost on my own. When I was with my father, you can imagine the kind of conversation we had, "Pick that", "Did I say to?", "Did I tell you to?", "Run!" and so on, so you would wish to be as far away from him as possible.

So most of my life was really lived in my head and talking to trees and birds and animals. So I want to think the loneliness, being on my own, turned me sort of inside and the reading helped along. It wasn't long before I thought, "Well, I think I can also write a story". I think that's what happened...


Yvonne Vera talks to Grace Mutandwa, 2003:
I was born in Bulawayo on 19 September 1964 and attended Mzilikazi High School… My first school prize was in Grade Seven when I was presented with a pair of scissors for the best needlework. The art of needlework often required the patience of good stitching. I still love the creativity of cutting, sewing, choosing fabrics for their emotion and mood. I love the smell of new fabric.

When I look at someone, I try to understand what their mode of dress and fabric announces. Clothes have been the greatest adornment in most human societies, our language for courtship, relaxation, celebration and even grief… At that stage, I was overweight and when I went to the stage to get my prize others laughed at me… I have worked as a cotton picker in Chegutu, on the farms as a child. This was my first paid work. I've been a waitress in a fast-food chicken and ribs place and in Italian restaurants…

 


Musaemura Zimunya speaks to Edmore Zvinonzwa 2012:


I was born in Mutare General Hospital, grew up in rural Zimunya, attended Munyarari Primary School. I do not recall my father being employed and so my mother raised most of the little money that went towards our texts books – mostly second hand – uniforms and food. She brewed beer or worked in fields of richer neighbours and when we were old enough we would join her.


But my father was a great mbira and ngoma player, one of the greatest of his time. I recall him sitting me on his lap and picking the mbira keys against my ears. The sounds have remained with me ever since and so I am a forever profoundly moved by good mbira sounds. He was also a fantastic story teller with a flair for the dramatic and descriptive – which I believe I inherited from him.


 


My mother was the second wife of my father and so she bore the brunt of abuse that came with that. And, as time went by, as her children, we also shared some of that abuse. But, apart from not doing much to support us, I don’t remember my father being physically or verbally abusive to my mother, though, my mother sometimes did her best to take out her frustrations on him. I only recall him famously declaring: “Idi, andichayi mukadziba ini. Mudzimai ishuka.” (I will never assault a woman. A woman is a glorious thing!)

 


Growing up was mostly about herding cattle in the summer months and playing in the dry season. We had little teams of rival families playing organized games of “soccer” using tennis or plastic balls on Sundays. I soon fell in love with music and caught the ear of the church choir master who invited me to join. That was my route to the enjoyment of the arts as our choir competed in the Manicaland Schools Association Eistedford – a choir competition – and provided music for church services.

 


Following good Standard Six results, I got a United Methodist scholarship to study at Chikore Secondary School, Craigmore, Chipinge where I studied from Form One to Form Four. By the end of my Form Two, I was beginning to scribble poems under the guidance of a great master – Tobby Moyana. My first taste of excitement about my writing came in the same year when I read a valedictory poem in tribute to our respectable master of English, Miss Cousins. I cannot remember exactly what moved the assembly, but the applause was deafening at the end of my performance. Two years later, in 1970, I submitted a folio of five poems for a national poetry competition open to Rhodesians and South Africans. I did not do well enough to win the first prize but the quality of my poems moved the judges to recommend the creation of a special prize to accommodate my work. And so, I won my first national prize for poetry then…


Aaron Chiundura Moyo talks to Chipo Musikavanhu, 2012:
I was born in Gweru, Guinea Fowl. My parents worked at a farm owned by a Mr MacLean. The farm was called Clifton Down Farm and nicknamed Shoe Shine. It was 12 kilometres from Gweru town. My birth certificate says I was born in 1954 but I was actually born in 1950... 



I started school when I was 15 years old at the farm school which was called Shoe Shine School. I only managed to go to school then because my father had bought a farm and relocated there and I had stayed behind with my older brother. Grade one back then was called Sub A. Because of my age I had to fast track through school. So I ended up doing Sub A, Sub B, and Standard 1(which is now grade 3) in the same year. The year was 1965...


I passed my Grade 7 with a one in English and a two in Arithmetic. The overall pass was a two. ..The headmaster at Bumburwi School told me to go and get married because I was a grown man. I remember walking home, sad and discouraged, about to give up totally on school. When I was at the farm school it never occurred to me that I was a too old. Most of us at the farm went to school late. I only realised when I had gone to the government school that I was too old when people made fun of me. I was called Two-boy in class because the teacher said there were two boys in me. So when I was walking back home after rejection at the three schools I decided to go for what were called Removed classes. Removed classes were classes that were offered to those who had attained an overall mark which was more than two. They were only offered two years of high school. So I had decided that it was better to go to school for two more years than to not go to school at all. I decided to make one last effort to get a place. At the first school I went to, Mambo School, the headmaster accepted me and my spirits got raised again …


(By Memory Chirere)

 
 
 

Tinashe Muchuri, Beavan Tapureta, Lawrence Hoba and Martin Denenga

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On Monday, 1 November 2004, I wrote a review article for a local paper and on seeing it and reading it today, I NOTICE that it was actually various young writers then affiliated to the now defunct Budding Writers Association of Zimbabwe who were some of the first people writing from within Zimbabwe to publish significant fictional work based on the fast track land reform of Zimbabwe. Tinashe Muchuri, Beavan Tapureta, Lawrence Hoba and Martin Denenga, you have your own corner in Zimbabwean literature! Some of these writers are now more established in writing and various other art forms. I also sense now that the Budding Writers Association of Zimbabwe scored its firsts which it never lived to benefit from. Below is that unedited review from 2004: 


 

Zimbabwe land issue and creativity

Zimbabwe’s Land Issue:The Budding Writers’ Perspectives, Harare, 2004.


ISBN:0-7974-2859-3


Editor: Dudziro Nhengu


A reflective Book Reviewby Memory Chirere
A new journal called ZIMBABWE LAND ISSUE has just hit the Zimbabwean and South African book markets like a bolt from the blue. It is the first in a new series of the “topical issues” journal being published by the Budding Writers of Zimbabwe (BWAZ).



BWAZ is a writer’s organization for new and young authors of Zimbabwe formed in 1990.  It has since grown to represent the nurturing of the growing army of new voices in Zimbabwe. 


With the return from exile in 1980 of serious writers like Dambudzo Marechera, Stanley Nyamufukudza, Musaemura Zimunya, Wilson Katiyo and others, there was a sudden and acute realization amongst the youth that writing could be taken seriously and a man or woman could be called “a writer.”  With the help of the then vibrant Zimbabwe Writers Union (ZIWU) there were inspiring readings and literary talks in Harare, Gweru and Bulawayo.


In due course BWAZ was formed.  To this day some of its earliest and founding members like Albert Nyathi, Ignatius Mabasa and the late Stephen Alumenda have grown to national stature.


Last month when the average established writer of Zimbabwe was yet to contribute to the ongoing debate and activities of the phenomenon now called the Zimbabwe Land Issue, BWAZ led the way with a scintillating publication.  Since the start of the mass farm occupations over two years ago, there has been remarkable silence about the land issue among Zimbabwe writers, save for Alexander Kanengoni who has routinely dropped here a story and there an essay-short story.


Could our writers be “playing it safe” because they are afraid to define their different positions?  Or, as one literary critic, Maurice Vambe told me, “they are still watching, Memory.  If they were to write about the land issue as it happens, they risk being journalists!”  Really?


This BWAZ journal contains short stories and a novella  based in various ways on the land issue in Zimbabwe.  These pieces, it must be emphasized, represent individual writers’ reaction  the land issue.

Handidzokere Shure Part 1-3 is a stimulating debate in epistolary from.  Three budding writers, Tinashe Muchuri, the late Blessing Chihombori and Beaven Tapureta build up on each other’s ideas and writings.  Should the land be taken away from the whites?  Should it be divided equally between black and white? What is the role of women here? What is the role of history? Is the reform necessarily violent…?


In Part I there are two letters – one from the “educated” George Gororo to his father and the other one from the determined Mr Gororo himself, in response to his son’s letter. These two letters represent two camps on the land issue.  George is an industrial worker who religiously believes that blacks cannot own farms because they neither have the technical know-how nor the resources to meaningfully turn the land into food to feed the whole nation.  George believes that blacks should only stick to domestic farming and leave commercial farming to the whites, who according to him, “…are the champions  of the Zimbabwe economy.”His father on the other hand argues that the land belongs to the blacks, it is their birthright and the white farmers must pack their belongings and leave for Britain.


Tinashe Muchuri continues with these “letters” between father and son up to Part 4.  Convinced that his father is an incorrigible land occupier, George shifts and writes to his mother to “please plead with father to leave Ndege’s farm now…” and stop dancing and ululating as the menfolk subdivide the commercial farms.


And the mother responds with unsurpassed verve: “You surprise me a lot George, my son.  So you think I am just, ululating and dancing?  I am not silent, George.  Ululating and dancing are a form of communication too… strategic talking.”


While Muchuri’s letters dramatise the typical  irreconcilable perspectives to the land issue in Zimbabwe, the writer could have gone beyond  binarism.  The epistle form is understandably an attempt to recreate a community dialoguing but the author could have taken this as opportunity to be more nuanced.  One could have given systematic background to why father and son view the issue differently.   Instead of erecting two war-fronts, one could have added a third or even fourth dimension.  The land issue in Zimbabwe, ironically, has offered some people opportunity for action or ambiguity or total detachment. More important, the rearrangement of land in Zimbabwe has not only operated at a physical level.  The mass movement of people, goods and properties has also caused a radical evolvement of mindsets and attitudes.  The Zimbabwe writer has a tremendous task here to explore even the land reform in the mind. 


In that regard “Tendai’s letter” by Beaven Tapureta, though cryptic, manages somehow to problematise the land issue in a more interesting manner than maybe Muchuri’s “letters.”  Tendai is a Zimbabwean young woman in exile in England but she has never lost sight of the events back home.  Out in cold England, she works for a white woman who not only calls her sister but also exploits her.  For Tendai, sister achy and feminism are abstract and lofty and does not address concrete issues.


Lawrence Hoba’s “The Trek” is evidence that some budding writers are reading widely and that one should not consider influences pernicious.  Hoba’s story reads like Honwana’s short story called “Papa-Snake and I.”  Here as in all prominent  Southern African short stories the child narrator sees much more than it intends to.  In “The Trek” the narrator is very critical of his father, an ex-fighter  who has acquired a farm formerly owned by a white man.  Father is lazy, always after beer parties. It is only mamma, throughout the years,  who has been the real land tiller.  The farm gate is written “Mr. J.J. Magudu.”  Why not “Mrs J.J. Magudu?” asks the narrator.

The late Martin Denenga’s novella – “Weeping,”is perhaps the greatest revelation of this literary journal.  As you read the first paragraph of this fast paced story, it occurs to you that this is a story that you will not ignore: “Some people simply called him Goddard. His friends called him Tim and his wife called him darling. His workers called him Goddard. His nickname was Minatonga, which means I rule. He hated his nickname…”


“Weeping” is about a conflict between a black community and a white farmer.  The white man accuses and punishes the community for poaching on his farm.  The neighbouring black community, especially Maruza, does not understand why and how they can be accused of poaching from their own motherland and so the conflict rages on.


Denenga does not limit the land conflict in Zimbabwe to one historical epoch, the land redistribution period.  He takes us back in time to long-standing conflicts that existed between Baas Goddard and his African neighbours of the adjacent Tribal Trust Land.  This helps to prove a historical fact that the animosity between blacks and whites in Zimbabwe over land is as old as colonialism itself.  The writer presents complex characters, black and white, and helps dispel the myth of a superior race.


Denenga feels deeply into the lives of farm folks and they ring true.  Their fears are expressed in their Nyanja laced conversations, drawing deep into their migrant labour backgrounds.  Their constant refusal to succumb to fate is best expressed in the seemingly mundane dance parties they organize in the farm compounds. Amongst them are guitarists of note, gifted story tellers, bottom wiggling dancers and legendary kick-boxers.

Since Chanjerai Hove’s novel called Bones, a prizewinning 1989 publication, “Weeping” is, arguably, the only literary piece in English that listens to the pulse of the farm-worker community.  One hopes that local publishers will soon take up this story.  It is only sad that Martin Denenga himself has passed on without seeing his work in print.  Infact information at the BWAZ offices has it that the unassuming Denenga was from a Marondera farming community.  One day he dropped the script at BWAZ, saying, “Read. Tell me what you think about it.”  They were never to see him again.  For over a year BWAZ put up notices in the papers and Radio Zimbabwe for Denenga because internal assessors found the script worth publishing. That tells the painful story of the struggles of Zimbabwe’s new writers. Denenga died not knowing the fate of his story and he remains unkwown.


Shimmer  Chinodya makes a guest appearance in this journal with his short story “Settlers.”  Chinodya like Stanley Nyamufukudza, Aaron Chiunduramoyo and Dr Charles Mungoshi are some of the prominent writers who have worked very closely with BWAZ in its various creative writing workshops across the country. Chinodya is well known as a great innovator of the short story form and he does exactly that with “Settlers.” Here the narrative follows the rambling thoughts of a new farmer and as you read on, your spirit rises, sinks, rises…


This neatly bound and boldly printed journal is well annotated and user friendly.  However the cover needed some deeper imagination.  The picture of the eastern portions of Zimbabwe in loam soils could have been more appropriate for a Geography or Agriculture text book.  One could have gone for a picture of many of Zimbabwe’s rolling wheat-lands or the never-ending stretches of newly ploughed red earths of early summer. The title too, is rather longish and its scholarly wording suggests, unnecessarily, regret.  A shorter, sharper and poetic line could have just done a better job.



One hopes that these writings will travel far and wide and contribute to both the debate and action on the land issue in our country and elsewhere. Maybe, against all odds, Zimbabwe’s more established writers could be pushed into writing about and around the LAND ISSUE.

'Somewhere In This Country' now in Mutare!

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If your class is doing ‘Somewhere in This Country’ for A level Zimsec Paper 2, you can buy it from  Best Books distributors in Mutare, Bulawayo, Gweru and Harare:
1.Best Books Bulawayo:Shop 4,
74 Robert Mugabe Way
Bulawayo
Tel: 09-76380/90

2. Best Books -Gweru
Shop 3
Moonlight Building
53 5th Street
Gweru
Tel: 054-227358-9



3.Best Books, Harare
9 Windermere Lodge
Mazowe Street
Harare
Zimbabwe
Tel: +263-4-797139/
mobile: + 263772977593

4. Best Books, Shop No. 2 Fidelity Life Centre


Cnr Aerodrome/Herbert Chitepo street


Mutare. Tel: (020)66990

And… below here are some useful notes for teaching the book:
1.Book Review
Reviewer: Jerry Zondo
In a recent interview with a local paper Memory Chirere says he has always preferred reading and writing short stories over anything else. A good short story, he reckons, ‘pricks like the doctor’s needle. You read and re-read until you do not know whether you are still just reading or are now recreating without the author’s permission.’

When you read his first collection of short stories called Somewhere In This Country, you experience this fatal prick. Intentions of characters cannot be easily fulfilled and death is such an eternal reality in Chirere’s stories. For example in Keresenzia, a minor called Keresenzia is a whirlwind of a character for she can easily kill. The boy Batsirai in Watching makes you wonder if he will not drop the axe against his father’s neck. Will he strike, or should the reader be positive and see his ‘chasing’ of his parents in the positive - a need to reconcile than to revenge?

The reality in Chirere literature is harsh, thrilling, bloody, bashing the reader’s interest into a deep-seated realisation that all of life is not friendly and sweet. The adze, in Sitting Carelesly, would painfully cut the artist whose visit to the clinic will reveal that he is of no fixed abode, instead of producing a beautiful wood sculpture. A young child – Jazz – wishes she could have a family by locking up a man dating her mother; she has to have somebody to call dad! Chirere would probably have that child winning because she is too young and too hopeful to lose!
But Somewhere In This Country can also be funny and can attack you with the mischievous and the spontaneous. Two men are ‘married’ to one woman in Two Men and a Woman. They do not exactly fight over her because they are not rivals at all. Sometimes they talk long into the night, not keen to decide who goes in to join her in bed tonight. This dreamy story leaves you wondering if there is any sexual contact between each of these two men and the woman that they are tied to. The story happens inside the minds of the three deeply attached characters and very little happens physically. Reading it is like walking in a foggy vlei in the morning, bumping into familiar but long forgotten objects.

In Maize, which is a masterpiece, an obscure land hungry man admires a spinster who is newly resettled. He keeps on turning up at the woman’s ‘acres’ and begins to spread word that he is the woman’s husband. One day he pretends to forget his old suitcase in her hut so that he has an excuse to return next time. He keeps on coming back for this or that item and as this happens, the maize crop in the woman’s field is growing and their love for each other is growing. Finally they are together without even a single -I love you- word!

The typical Chirere story comes from the suburb (location), the local graveyard, the road and roadside, the farmhouse, the rural area, the urban setting, the streets – basically the human being and places where she can be found or was previously located (and Chirere’s human beings move a lot). In all such places the human being and such animals around her, survives and loves, hates, kills, makes love, procreates, succeeds, dies and is buried.

Each of these short stories is extremely brief, maybe the shortest by any Zimbabwean writer, but they take you through very weighty experiences. For Chirere, a short story is a just tumultuous episode in the life of a character. What is short is the narration not the experience being dwelt upon.

Memory Chirere is considered to be one of the leading literary voices to have emerged out of Zimbabwe in the so called decade of crisis (1998-2010). He shares that spot with the likes of Wonder Guchu, Ignatius Mabasa, Noviolet Bulawayo, Petina Gappah, Christopher Mlalazi and others. He has also published two other short story books: Tudikidiki (2007) and Toriro and his Goats and Other Stories (2010) which have both won NAMA awards. Beyond his creative work, Chirere has compiled and edited various other short story books; Totanga Patsva (an all-women short story book), Children Writing Zimbabwe (a book of short stories for children by children).

(this article appeared on: http://www.panorama.co.zw/index.php/perspective/226-book-review-somewhere-in-this-country.html)


2.'MEMORY Chirere’s ‘Somewhere In This Country’ and the psyche of African Memory'
By Ruby Magosvongwe, University of Zimbabwe

Somewhere In This country (2006), Memory Chirere's first short story collection published as part of the Memory and African Cultural Productions Series by UNISA Press, offers refreshing and complex insights into the psyche of African memory, largely from a ‘children's’ perspective.

Set in both the pastoral and cityscapes of Zimbabwe, the collection of 21 short stories in all takes one onto the road to explore and discover the world and challenges of a burning desire for belonging, reconnection and rootedness that a good number of the protagonists show.

KERESENZIA: The grotesque images that ‘Keresenzia’ and ‘Somewhere’ offer about Keresenzia's and the old man's obsession to link and reconnect with the country leaves one in a maze. Why does this become the central theme in the writer's perspective? This is one critical concern that the African Cultural Production Series sets out to explore.

That the short story collection opens with the horrifying story that debunks the whole idea of children's innocence in the manner that it talks about Keresenzia's brutality towards Matambudziko, her grandmother, is deliberate. The story has several layers of meaning. On the surface, one is confronted with an ingrate orphan who is ruthless and cold to the point of violently abusing and brutally killing her sole guardian, Matambudziko, by striking her with the handle of a hoe without any trace of prior provocation. Matambudziko's incessant efforts to pacify Keresenzia's anger, bitterness and ruthlessness by disclosing the source of her psychological wounds, lead to her death. At a deeper level, Keresenzia's constant demands for attention are indicative of her psychic and spiritual yearning to know her roots and to belong. Beneath the seething anger and antics of brutal emotional hurt she directs at Matambudziko is a deep spiritual void and yearning for rootedness and identity that Matambudziko cannot keep pushing into oblivion.

Interestingly, the harder Matambudziko tries to plaster over the cracks about Keresenzia's past, the more depressed Keresenzia becomes. From the moment Keresenzia names the cause of her distress – orphanhood – she assumes subjectivity by naming her grandmother Matambudziko, which is translated to mean ‘Troubles’ in English. She is determined to torment Matambudziko until she relates the tale of her biological parents, thus giving a legitimate claim to her connection with the pastoral environment she finds herself in. Keresenzia wants to know her real identity, where she hails from, who she really is and how she connects with the present in terms of both time and space. This knowledge will help her psychologically in discovering herself.

Her desire to know the history of her current status of marginalization through orphanhood, and to know about her biological lineage, drives her berserk. Her quest is indicative of a burning desire for rootedness and spiritual connectedness. The craving for this knowledge that Matambudziko withholds becomes almost maniacal, laying bare the contradictions and challenges that riddle the young generation's quest to link with its past. Keresenzia ends up killing the only guardian she knows! Should young people have to kill in order to discover themselves? How much about the missing historical narratives and cultural memory should the older generations expose or insist on withholding from them in the process of the younger generation's identity formation and quest for subjectivity in their lives? ‘Keresenzia’ keeps insisting on Toni Morrison's concept of re
memory that demands that the younger generation's present identity, both in terms of geophysical space and psychospiritual space, be defined in line with their ancestral history. Just as Ali Mazrui argues about the hazards of Africa's short memory and the desire to bury festering wounds about Africa's historical past, similarly, Chirere's Keresenzia is a sordid reminder that there are no shortcuts in dealing with the scars of a people's historical past. It is Matambudziko's blindness in trying to shield Keresenzia from the wounds of her past that drives the young woman to murder – and her loss of childlike innocence.

Without addressing the cause of the anger and bitterness that the protagonist harbours as shown in this short story, without explaining the absence of the lost generation the protagonist wishes to know more about, Africa faces a blighted future. It is as if the story argues that it is important that the missing chips in Africa's historical narratives be accounted for so that the child of Africa may freely discover itself; being bludgeoned into a predetermined mode will only blight the young person's future as well as that of the African continent.

SOMEWHERE: Similarly, the yearning for spiritual reconnection by the old man in his desire to revisit the hills of his childhood pastoral environment in ‘Somewhere’ cannot be quenched: neither by the luxurious life of the Americas nor the pampered existence of the city. The bundle of senility under the quilt suddenly comes to life when the driver and his brother get to the precincts of the hills; this takes his companions, as well as the reader, by surprise. It is as if Chirere is insinuating that the old man has no difficulty in rediscovering himself, to the extent of wrenching authority from the driver and driving the unfamiliar vehicle on the crown of the road without any incident once he reconnects with his childhood terrain and environment. The agility of the old man and the quick reversal of roles is so dramatically captured that it leaves the reader in stitches. Unlike the violence in ‘Keresenzia’, ‘Somewhere’ closes on a hilarious note.

MAIZE: ‘Maize’ focuses on the contentious subject of land contestation and reclamation that saw the liberation struggle galvanizing and mastering the support of the disinherited indigenous black Africans. The story focuses on the joyous privilege of land ownership by a newly
settled black farmer in Zimbabwe. In the narrator's own words, it ‘speaks about human presence and settlement’ (p. 65) and the bliss of ownership and creativity that comes with the privilege of subjectivity in freed space(s).

Ironically, however, the resettlement of the landless black is fraught with irregularities and contradictions. In an unassuming manner in ‘Sitting Carelessly’, Chirere explores the fate of the former migrant labourer, now displaced by the new farmer, an ‘alien’ with less right to the land than his black sisters/brothers who have some ancestral claim to the ‘vacated’ land! The alien is now viewed as an illegal settler and is evicted together with his former boss/owner to make way for the rightful owners of the land. After displacement he survives by squatting on the roadside and makes a living through sculpture and vending at the country's major exit and entry points. The story thus also explores the contradictions and complexities that need sophisticated and yet pragmatic alternatives so that the country's stability can be maintained. With every opportunity of correcting the anomalies of Africa's colonial past there are challenges that African political leaders must anticipate. This story has a message of serious import; there are the grave challenges of resettlement in Africa. And yet the seriousness is overshadowed by the innocence and simplicity of the title; Memory Chirere's sense of mischief and satiric humour are very apparent here. Who wouldn't want to hear more about someone who sits carelessly?
THE PRESIDENTIAL GOGGLES: ‘The Presidential Goggles’ is yet another short story dealing with a sacred subject – that of succession and ideological continuity in the African political space. It sees Chirere experimenting with style and form in his dramatic and scenic division of the episodes in the development of the ousted president's mimicry of his former hold on power. It is ludicrous that the adage – once a teacher, always a teacher – seemingly applies to this ousted former head of state. He cannot come to terms with his now
destitute status and his anachronistic and therefore undesirablepresence. Having outlived his relevance, even in the lives of his own children, the ousted president is relegated to a mental asylum where the new generation are justified in keeping him. As perceived by many of his critics and opponents, rather than being an asset to his own country and nation, the old man has become a liability. It is ironic that in spite of the allegation that he has long outlived his welcome and is regarded as a political burden to his people, the old president still commands a following.

Whilst the new political leadership and the men in dark suits who claim to be his biological offspring search for him high and low (for he has become a threat to the survival of his nation), the old man is busy addressing a rally somewhere in the city! The repeated dramatizations of these episodes through the curt dialogue between the characters in the story mask the authorial voice, thereby giving collective authorship and ownership of this people's socio
historical narrative. At the end of the day Chirere shows the subjectivity of the people taking charge of the political direction their country should take. It is risky for them to leave things to chance, yet there is also still a measure of sympathy for the senile president in the playful dramatization of episodes in this narrative.

Could Chirere be casting a spell on the Zimbabwean political leadership, who may be perceived to have conveniently forgotten about the philosophy of their own elders who saw positivity, continuity and enrichment of the communal collective in rotational leadership? In their wisdom, and rightly so, for the good of their own communal existence and survival, the Shona elders had a much revered maxim for those in public office: Ushe madzoro, hunoravanwa (Political headship is rotational and give each other a chance to have a bite of the cherry)! Strict adherence to this maxim kept autocratic leadership in check, pre
empting civil strife and political leadership feuds. ‘Presidential Goggles’ offers in a refreshing and mischievous way this twist to political leadership on the African mainland. Talk about Amilcar Cabral's Return to the Source and the African academics' insistence on keeping the narratives about the nation alive and invigorating for the young generation!

The collection does not just dwell on the serious themes of historiography in its fictional narratives. Chirere also takes his readers through lighter moments that both the young at heart and the serious
minded reader can enjoy. There are interesting stories about both country childhood and city childhood that readers will find entertaining and educative. For example ‘Missy’, ‘Three Little Worlds’ and ‘Jazz’ focus on the intricacies of the ageold theme of love that tickles the young and old alike. ‘Missy’ tells of a country boy's obsession about his lady teacher and the innumerable antics he uses to catch her attention. Laying it all bare here will obviously take away the excitement that the story generates.

THREE LITTLE WORLDS: ‘Three Little Worlds’ also arouses excitement in the way that it explores the mysteries of efficiently and sufficiently minding the three worlds of a woman implicated in concurrent relationships. Just in case the readers of this series may be led to conclude that the writer is obsessed only with issues of the larger public sphere, one can enjoy reading how it is done on the Zimbabwean landscape by fleeting through these love stories! ‘Jazz’ offers the reader a rare opportunity to explore and experience with Emily the hurdles that the economically
emancipated and culturallyliberated female single parent faces in the life of Harare's avenues. Instead of listening to or playing jazz music, the reader meets with Jazz, Emily's fiveyearold girl, who is music to Emily and her lover Joel.

Similarly, like ‘Jazz’, ‘An Old Man’ explores and exposes the challenges and brutality of life in the jungle that Harare's cityscape has become. The heartlessness of the life on the streets of Harare is shown through the demarcated turf that the street children have to religiously observe. For street children like Raji, Sami and Zhuwawo, the city turns out not to be an Eldorado, but a jungle where only the vicious can survive. One feels a chill when Zhuwawo, ‘identity
less’ with no kin except Sami, with whom he shares thesame turf, is run over by a van whilst crossing a busy street to invade Raji's turf in one of his breadscavenging escapades. Zhuwawo's death leaves Samitotally exposed and at the mercy of Raji, whose motivation for life seems to be geared to seeking revenge against any person who might have crossed his path. Raji's presence in the story bespeaks of a trail of violence because he is convinced that everyone owes him a living. This challenge of the streetchildren legacy in Zimbabwe's history brings a certain embarrassment about Zimbabwe's social delivery system. On the surface, yes, the writer is talking about the predicament confronting the undesirable street urchins; but the same story shows worrisome cracks in Zimbabwe's social history. Will this ever be a desirable chapter in the cultural narratives of Zimbabwe's history?

Chirere's children also get space in ‘Beautiful Children’, where the narrator shows the ugliness of xenophobia in the way the Mozambican refugee child is exploited by a fellow black. One would want to find out for oneself what it is that makes these children strikingly beautiful when Ayi Kwei Armah writes about ‘The beautiful ones who are not yet born’. The story opens a can of worms, so to speak, in terms of civic education about the rights of the child and the general sympathy people must feel for each other as human beings. Chirere's story reflects the same theme of childhood destitution that Tsitsi Dangarembga's film, Everyone's child, shows. The short stories, by and large, take it upon themselves to challenge every reader to be introspective about how they have made their world a better place. Are these short stories only reminiscent of the Zimbabwean experience?

What is the point of engaging in hard politics of collective identity, spatial claims and issues of communal survival, or worse still to be locked up in stories about pitiful childhoods and xenophobia when the bang of life in you gushes out at ‘Sixteen’ and awaits personal exploration? One also can't afford to spoil one's sense of adventure and the suspense that ‘Tafara’ (We are delighted) offers! Both ‘Sixteen’ and ‘Tafara’ are set in Harare's high density suburbs; first hand experience of these will allow the reader to get a real feel of how the ordinary Zimbabwean citizens live on a day
today basis. Need this reviewer say more? Somewhere in this country offers the reader a spectacular opportunity to explore the highs and lows of Zimbabwe's social and cultural narratives together with the characters the reader meets on each fresh page! Definitely a mustread.

3.'IDENTITY in Memory Chirere’s Somewhere in this Country'
(By Josephine Muganiwa)

Somewhere in this Country is a collection of short stories in English that capture Zimbabwean experiences. A running theme in all the stories seems to be identity. Chirere’s characters do not deal with colonial ascriptions per se but are well developed in a way that explores clearly all the nuances that shape their identities. This paper will focus on three stories; ‘Suburb’, ‘Sitting Carelessly’ and ‘Presidential Goggles’. These stories encourage a new way of looking at issues contrary to the official position thereby becoming protest literature.

‘Suburb’ is about a squatter camp on the outskirts of a town by a flowing river. The story is told from an insider perspective and hence the title ‘Suburb’is ironic. Chirere plays on situational irony. The residents of the new suburb are considered illegal settlers by the town planners as evidenced by the bulldozers that come to raze the place down. The plans were made by the colonizers without taking into consideration the needs of the indigenous people. That means the influx of people in search of employment after independence was unforeseen. Since the checks and balances put in place by the colonial government to keep blacks out of towns (pass laws) had been removed, accommodation problems increased. The so-called ‘native townships’ could not accommodate everyone. The low density accommodation was too expensive for the unemployed blacks and hence the rise of illegal settlements commonly known as squatter camps.

The contract that binds the settlers in the new ‘suburb’ has no colonial history but is based on utility and local agreement. Chirere captures this well;
"It all began in a small way. A man and his two friends discovered a
Certain old man with shaky hands and red eyes staying on the outskirts
By a slow flowing river. Out there by himself, with neither dream nor pains.

It didn’t take long to fix because the three men had a chat with the old man and the following day they carted their suitcases, primus-stoves, wives, children and other things and settled. They had founded a suburb. They would always remember how more and more people had trickled to this place, slowly but surely. It was a suburb and that is what they called it." (S.I.T.C. p10)

The old man discovered the place and has the right to accept or reject company. He is described in a way that makes his identity mysterious. His eyes are "red and his hands are shaky." The old man is without neither ‘dream nor pain’ because the attractions of city life do not entice him and neither does he have the pain of rentals, transport, and to be more contemporary, power cuts and water cuts. Implicit in the statement is that the old man is better placed than those that stay in the town. He does not like to talk about money and out in the ‘suburb’ there is little use for it enabling the wise to save:
"The old man didn’t like to talk about money either. When he did, it was to ask if you had made much out in town that day. If you happen to make much, look after it, he would insist. It is easy because there is no rent and electric bills out here, he would add." (S.I.T.C p10)
While it is difficult to make money one can live comfortably in the ‘suburb’ and while many in town dream of being home-owners, the settlers in the ‘suburb’ are proud owners of their homes:
"If you had never seen him enter his house, then you missed a fancy example of entering a house- sideways, bowing and sighing because the eaves were low and there was nowhere one could get zinc sheets long enough to build a house with a high door frame and a proper verandah." (p10)

The house is badly built because of poverty but Chirere celebrates this achievement and draws the reader to admire the way the old man is comfortable in his new surroundings. However, the word ‘sighing’ betrays a sense of longing. The old man, obviously, had a better life as exemplified by his “suits… particularly the corduroy one which everyone knew to be expensive.”

Whenever a squatter camp is mentioned, there is a tendency to think of its inhabitants in stereotypical fashion as thieves, prostitutes and thugs. Chirere gives a kaleidoscopic view of the inhabitants as decent people representing the cross section of society; the rich, the poor, the educated, the skilled and unskilled. The characters are not given names, except for Jack, Simon and Zacharia, because they represent anyone in similar circumstances. The characters are thus described as, “a man and his two friends”, a man with groceries, a man knocking to greet the old man, two men disagreeing and then making up, “a man who wore waistcoats and had a job in town”, a man in cyclist helmet, a man and a sullen faced woman, a young man who finds a job after a long search, two women whose father dies. The bulldozers bring workmen and gunmen. The only character who is specific is the old man and even he is shrouded in mystery in the style of magical realism. His response to the question of where he came from is “from all the corners”. The old man is the centre of life and inspiration for members of the ‘suburb’. One is reminded of Matigari in Ngugi wa Thiongo’s Matigari. He comes from everywhere, understands everyone’s pain and inspires them to hope for a better future.

The bulldozers pose a real threat to the inhabitants of the suburb and this is clearly highlighted in the following words:
"Several babies cried but no one bothered because there was the hungry sound of bulldozers to worry about. Soon, the bulldozers will get to the first house and wait till you see zinc tumbling, bricks giving way and the table and bed roll and crumble and someone’s fortunes and sweat come to naught..."(p13)
Ironically, the city fathers only see an unplanned settlement being removed, an eye-sore to the rich. The authorities are thus an impersonal authority that does not care about individual plight which includes lack of shelter and destruction of personal wealth and self-esteem. It is from this threat that the old man rescues the people. While everyone else is frightened, the old man remains calm and in control. Chirere writes;
"The old man advanced as comfortably as he does when going for a bath down to the river.
He came face to face with bulldozers and spread out his arms like a green eagle in flight. He shook his head….
The old man talked. The old man cried out and you agreed that some voices are extracts of thunder. He stamped the ground. He pointed in the direction pf the river, the suburb and at the sky. He hit his chest with a clenched fist and sagged down to the ground.
The suburb thought he had been ordered down but they saw him shoot up and begin to walk back towards them." (p13)

The theatrics described here are similar to a wizard casting a spell. It then raises questions on the identity of the old man. Is he a spirit medium? Is he a magician? Or is he, as hinted earlier, a former freedom fighter? Why do the bulldozers reverse and drive away because they had not known the old man was part of the suburb? Chirere deliberately weaves his story in such a way that these questions are not answered. If the old man has no magical powers then the corruption of the city’s laws is revealed. It shows that crime is only crime depending on who has committed it.

Sitting Carelessly deals with identity in terms of nationality. In this regard it is similar to Signs. Both stem out of the Land Redistribution Programme of 2001. Pempani is of Malawian descent but born second generation in Zimbabwe and hence has never been to the country of origin. The land redistribution programme renders him homeless on the technicality that he is not of Zimbabwean nationality and hence is not legible to be allocated land. Chirere explores the irony of this situation, centering on the need to provide an address at a clinic.

The story shows Pempani struggling to define who he is and his options of survival given his particular circumstances. All his life, Pempani’s identity has been premised on Acton farm which no longer exists. His dilemma is similar to that of the Negro in the United States of America after the abolition of slavery. Hitherto his identity had been premised on the Master. Pempani is distressed and says,
"Where will l go if you take the farm? You will take the farm and baas goes driving in his car, but where will l go? (...) My father’s father and my father came to this country from across the Zambezi. Black man like you. Black, like two combined midnights. See, my father worked here. My mother worked here. They are buried here. Their folks too: Alione, Chintengo, Anusa, Nyanje, Machazi, Mpinga, Zabron, Banda, Musa." (p76)

Having come to Rhodesia from the then Nyasaland to work in the farms, make a fortune and go back home. Pempani’s father fails because of the meager wages. He decides to die in Zimbabwe because he questions himself, “If l cross the Zambezi at this age, what will l show for my years this side of the river?”(p78). Unfortunately for Pempani, having relatives buried on the land does not make it his, because it belongs to the white man who usurped it from the blacks who want their land back. Pempani’s plight is similar to that of Povo’s mother in Mujajati’s The Wretched Ones whose husband is buried on Buffalo’s land But she is evicted. This explains Pempani’s appeal that he is also black, a call to put Pan- African theory into practice.

The term ‘home’ itself is not easy to define. Pempani’s family is split as his wife goes back to her people in Murehwa after the farm is taken. He fails to go with her because;
“I just don’t want’, you retort. You can hear the Murehwa villagers’ laughter. Laughing rudely and provocatively at a son-in-law from the farms who has brought his wife and all these children because he has nowhere to go. A man who can’t go back home across the Zambezi. Because of that, it begins with the jarring sound of an axe grinding. Home. Where is home? Across the Zambezi where grandpa came from? Home cant be where l know no river, valley, hill, stone…Where l haven’t dug the soil to sow a seed… You heard your father, one day, say to Anusa and Alione over a beer, “If l cross the Zambezi at this age, what will l show for my years this side of the river?”
Home explodes into the stitched throbbing thumb as you sit by a road that leads to Kariba." (p78)

In the above quotation home is defined in several ways: as where your spouse and children are, as your father’s house, where you have lived all your life, the physical terrain you know, what you have built with your own wealth and finally, shelter over your head. Each of these definitions is tied to a cultural norm of a particular people.

Pempani fails to join his wife in Murehwa because among the Zezurus it is improper for a real man to live in his father-in-law’s household. It implies that his wife is in control of what happens in the home. For the Malawians, who are matrilineal, that would not be much of an issue as it is common in their homeland. This difference in culture leads to Malawians being labeled stupid and effeminate. Pempani then resists fulfilling this stereotype even though his situation is desperate. The fact that his wife goes back to her father’s house shows that Pempani has failed as a man to provide for his family. His father similarly fails as he has nothing to take back home with him. Another cultural expectation is that one does not come back home empty handed except failures.

However, for Pempani, going across the Zambezi is not a solution for him. It is only a place where grandpa came from. The home he knows is Acton farm, whose soil he has dug and sown seeds, and the physical terrain he has explored. In this sense he is similar to John Hurston in Signs who is worried that the blacks will take away his home and farm which is an inheritance from
"Grandpa [who] came here from the wars and you know very well that they gave him and others this side of the river because you folks here could not work this heavy clay in summer. You get it?" (p74)
As far as Hurston is concerned, the land is his because he has been working it in the same way that Pempani feels the land is his. However Hurston’s situation is not as desperate as Pempani’s. He has money to buy other properties and move on. Hurston’s only desire is to protect family honour and not go down in history as the one who lost it;
"And moments later, he mournfully said, “How l wish Pa Rockie and Grandpa Peters were here with me when it finally happens. Lord, don’t let anything happen to Heinz. Am l the weak spot, God, God?” (p73)
The farm highlights the glory of Hurston (grandpa) having fought in the World War. It was a reward for white people displacing blacks, such as Marimo, who thus participate in the land redistribution cheerfully. Pempani and his people are caught in the crossfire having crossed the Zambezi as economic refugees with the hope to return. The injustice of the whole situation is the ironic twist of life that it never seems to turn out as planned. Both Pempani and John are victims of their grandparents’ adventures leaving them with an identity crisis. Are they really Zimbabweans? Where do they belong: a home they have never seen or the only the only home they have known? What are they to do when the people in the home they know insist that they do not belong? How are they to deal with such rejection?

Pempani ends up homeless, living by the roadside carving animals and selling them to tourists. Absent minded, thinking about his identity, he cuts himself and ends at a clinic where he has to put in words what he has been thinking about. The nurse gets angry at Pempani’s response that his name is Pempani Pempani. She thinks that he is making fun of her because culturally she is not used to such names which are common among the Malawians. Providing an address becomes a problem as noted below:
Place? One must come from a place? People, place, every time! But, how to say it when you are from Acton farm? And you can’t be from there now because everybody knows it was taken. “By the road. I come from a place by the road,” is all you can say. By the road where you carve human heads and kudus from tree trunks for sale to motorists who ride to Kariba.Neither can you say Murehwa because that is only where your wife and children are, at her parents’ place. But you must say something, at least. Earrings is waiting, cant you see?

Selling wood carvings is not easy either as it is dependent on Madame’s mood or how one reacts to her ‘sitting carelessly’. In the end Pempani decides to go back to the land and get allocation. To the question, “Who are you?” by the official:
“That is a long question to ask,” says Pempani, “But l will answer.”

The story ends on this note, Pempani giving a quick response unlike the time at the clinic. In essence he has come to terms with who he is and has found answers to what he wants his future to be like. He has solved his identity puzzle.

The Presidential Goggles presents another dimension of identity where one is identified by the image s/he presents. Like all of Chirere’s stories it has an ironic twist and the joke is on the city audience who are taken in by the old man. To apply the rural/urban dichotomy of the first generation Zimbabwean writers, the rural audience is not fooled by the old man as the city audience does despite its claim to sophistication.

The story is based on the discovery a mentally ill old man makes; that in dark goggles he resembles a former president of the country who was feared for his ‘Brown Belts’ boys that terrorized people. He decides to use this as a ticket to fame and riches but his sons blow his cover and ruin the whole plan. The humour of the story is that the old man asks questions and people respond giving details that are dependent on what they read in the image presented by the old man, both visual and aural. When the old man mentions “his boys” he means his sons but because he has projected the image of President Box people think of the ‘Brown Belts’. However, in all this drama, Chirere explores the game of image making played by politicians on a national scale.

Chirere presents the story in kaleidoscopic fashion capturing the journey of the old man from the rural area to the city. This helps him show the different groups in society and how they react to the image presented as it affects their identity and standing in society. The old man is first presented to the reader as a fine picture of dignity and poverty,
An old man (dressed in a pair of flapping trousers, a dog-eared waist coat and a tie tucked under the disintegrating shirt collar), trudges from a footpath onto a wide dirt road. He stops at the junction and scans the thread of the dirt road, from the horizon to this point, one hand on forehead.
In full view, the old man is of medium height, clean shaven and slightly stooped. A ‘chiefly’ walking stick balances horizontally on one shoulder, a bulging plastic bag. (p80)
The old man is obviously concerned about his looks as he takes good care of himself despite the poverty. One gets the idea that this is his best image. The ‘chiefly’ stick hints at his love of power. However the image of dignity he presents contrasts with how he jumps into the road;
"When the cart gets to his point, the old man drops his bag and walking stick by the roadside and monkey-like jumps and lands in the middle of the road, waving his arms. He wants the vehicle to stop!" (p80)
‘Monkey-like’ emphasizes the idea of a prankster and hence the reader is caught between whether to take the old man seriously or simply as a comedian. The driver of the donkey-cart is obviously not amused and therefore ignores the old man.

The bus conductor is interested in getting more customers and arriving at his destination on schedule. Consequently he is “irritated by the old man’s unnecessary show of grandeur” delaying him. The old man reacts by striking the conductor and declaring his identity as the President. No one takes him seriously and the conductor does not beat him up at the entreaties by the passengers.

Age seems to play a part in how the people react to the old man. The two boys herding cattle fail to respond to the suggestion of “the Boys” and conclude that the old man is mad. The irony is that they are close to the truth and as a result power is on their side as they are able to make the old man “totter down the road, falling, rising, running...” At the roadblock, it is the young officers who have no memory of President Box who refuse to believe.

In the van, the passengers refuse to believe the old man and their arguments against the idea are rational and logical. The driver, too, initially does not believe and is more incensed that the old man is banging his car. It is only at the insistence of the old man that he changes his mind:
"Standing face to face with the driver on the dirt road, the old man quickly puts on his goggles. ‘It is I, the President. Don’t you recognize me?’
The driver clicks his tongue but he gives the old man a serious look. The old man glares intently at the driver from behind his glasses. Suddenly, the driver gives a terrified cry and sags down. ‘President Box.’ He stands up and staggers back. ‘My goodness! It’s you. What?’ He staggers backwards again. When the driver looks again, the old man is standing at attention. Exactly! Exactly!" (p82)
The old man enacts the role of President and the driver of the van allows the image to trigger memories in his mind. At first he clicks his tongue, then is terrified, then is excited and becomes the spokesperson for the old man. Meanwhile, the old man watches his reaction planning his next move, which is, to take over control and order everyone; the other passengers back into the back of the van and the driver to drive on with the old man by his side in the front compartment.

When they reach the roadblock the old man has fully gained his confidence and playing the role of President to the bone. The police officers perceive the driver as drunk ( they presume alcohol but he is drunk on the image of Box represented by the old man) as he violates the law not to mention Box or General Pink Which can lead to his own death. The general comments by the officers are the cue for the old man to present himself, first, in a powerful commanding voice that makes the officers to ‘stiffen’. The visual presentation makes
[a] number of officers gasp. ‘It’s him.’ ‘So he wasn’t killed?’ ‘He is alive after all.’ ‘And his boys, the Brown Belts.’ The old man stands at attention by the door, ‘So you see, it is me, ha? (p84)
The memories of terror in the officers lead them to conclude that it is the president. Again the old man watches them attentively before making his next move. The fight between Rocky and the sergeant is triggered by allegiance based on tribalism. Vharea is Rocky’s homeboy so he stands to benefit from Vharea’s being in power. On the other hand, the sergeant is Box’s homeboy. In this remark is a powerful commentary on African politics that seem not to focus on one’s ability but what benefits one’s support to them will bring. This is the root of corruption. The old man ignores the fighting officers and “beckons at the driver. They drive off at top speed, towards the city.”(p85)

At the Broadcasting station the soldier called Max trembles at the image of Box. The one who is not moved declares,
‘No, Max, This is just some distant resemblance,’ one soldier says. ‘Box died. I read about it at school. Besides, my own uncle saw his corpse!’ The soldier turns to the old man. ‘Old man! Get out now! Out!’ He fumbles with handcuffs. (p85)
The soldier’s conviction comes from having two reference points; the books at school and his uncle. In Zimbabwe, and Africa in general, there is a tendency to respect book education and accounts by close relatives. This is what fortifies the soldier against being moved by the image represented by the old man. The old man moves away reluctantly because he knows the others, like Max, believe him.

The next move by the old man is to mobilize a crowd to help him go past the soldiers into the Broadcasting station. Crowds that gather easily in cities largely comprise of poor loafers, the unemployed hungry, thieves and the curious. The speech made by the old man appeals to this crowd,
The suffering, the crying of this great nation has forced me to come back! I want him to resign peacefully or l will ask my boys, who are all over, to descend on him!
Enough is enough!
Cheers. The old man puts on his goggles and the crowd goes mad, ‘Exactly!’ ‘Exactly!’ ‘The glasses’ ‘It’s him’ ‘Just like in the pictures!’ ‘Viva Box!’ (p )
The crowd in this instance comprises of the marginalized. Their knowledge of the President is from the pictures (newspaper or television) and thus it is just an image. It is ironic how one declares they have recognized someone based on glasses that can be mass produced and bought by anyone. However the speech to end suffering answers a call in the crowd’s heart and they follow him. Of interest is that once the soldiers appear with guns, the crowd is not so willing to follow and flees at gun shots. The old man, left alone, flees.

Finally, in the hall, the old man wears a new suit and the crowd is middle class. Again, the reactions are based on personal interests;
Well said, your Excellency! ‘Just as you used to do during those years.’ ‘I could feel it’ ‘I feel like fighting!’ Another man: ‘Shake my hand, Mdhala! Welcome! Tell the boys to make it quick, we are behind you!
Another man: ‘Box, is this you? Something always told me that you couldn’t be dead, Mdhala! Mdhala is back!’
Another man: ‘A word with you, Box. Forgive this, but, as soon as it happens, l can volunteer to stand in the Finance office. I’m a PhD! But, just tell the boys to hurry. Vharea won’t give in. I’m telling you!’
The crowd is motivated by validating their own thoughts; disbelief that Box had really gone. At times reliving moments of past glory, as well as seeking lucrative ministerial posts.

At this height of glory, the old man’s sons arrive,
"The old man sees them and shakes. He holds his head desperately. He holds his mouth and then his waist. He shakes his head...The old man points desperately at the speakers. ‘My boys,’ he says. He moves in circles. He protests. He shakes his head. He holds his mouth and his waist. He begins to move in circles again." (p87)

The revelation of the truth kills the old man’s dream and the hope of leaving poverty behind. The reaction of the crowd to the new image of the old man as a dangerous madman is interesting,
"Then, the crowd pours out through the stage doors, the normal doors, and the windows…" [STORY ENDS HERE]
The city crowd is gullible and reacts to any words by anyone at anytime. The old man walks away, throwing off the new jacket symbolic of discarding his identity as Box. He most probably will search for a new adventure and identity.

Conclusion
Chirere’s stories are hinged on individuals in specific dilemmas dealing with specific identity questions. These are, however, linked to the larger national, class and racial identities. We are presented with characters that are realistic and easy to identify with ( Pempani and Hurston) On the other hand we have characters that are magical in the sense of having the ability to make thing happen and difficult to define (Two old men in ‘Suburb’ and ‘The Presidential Goggles’). They do not have specific names because they are universal and fluid.



 

I have been mistaken for Achebe: Ngugi

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(Ngugi wa Thiongo, with Noviolet Bulawayo, Sarah Ladipo Manyika, Mukoma wa Ngugi, and Emmanuel Sigauke.)

I first met Chinua Achebe in 1961 at Makerere University in Kampala. His novel, Things Fall Apart, had come out, two years before. I was then a second year student, the author of just one story, Mugumo published in Penpoint, the literary magazine of the English Department. At my request, he looked at the story, and made some encouraging remarks. What I did not tell him was that I was in the middle of my first novel for a writing competition organized by the East African Literature Bureau; what would later be published as The River Between. 



My next encounter was more dramatic, for my part, at least, and would impact my life and literary career, profoundly. It was at the now famous 1962 conference of writers of English expression. Chinua Achebe was among a long line of other literary luminaries, that included Wole Soyinka, J P Clark, the late Eski’a Mphahlele, Lewis Nkosi and Bloke Modisane. The East African contingent consisted of Grace Ogot, Jonathan Kariara, John Nagenda and me. My invitation was on the strength of my short stories published in Penpoint and in Transition. The novel most discussed in the Conference as a model of literary restraint and excellence was Things Fall Apart.



But what most attracted me was not my being invited there as ‘writer’ but the fact that I would be able to show Achebe the ms of my second novel, what would later become Weep Not Child. It was very generous of him to agree to look at it because, as I would learn later, he was working on his novel, Arrow of God. Because of that and his involvement in the conference, he could not read the whole ms, but he read enough to give some useful suggestions.



More importantly, he talked about the manuscript to his publishers, William Heinemann, represented at the conference by June Milne, who expressed an interest in the work. Weep Not Child would later be published by William Heinemann and the paperback by Heinemann education publishers, the fourth in the now famous African Writers series, of which Achebe was the Editorial Adviser.



I was working with the Nation newspapers when Weep Not Child came out. It was April 1964, and Kenya was proud to have its first modern novel in English by a Kenyan African. Or so I thought, for the novel was well publicised in the Kenyan Newspapers, the Sunday Nation even carrying my interview by de Villiers, one of its senior feature writers. I assumed that every educated Kenyan would have heard about the novel. I was woken to reality when I entered a club, the most frequented by the new African elite at the time, who all greeted me as their Kenyan author of Things Fall Apart.


Years later at Achebe’s 70th birthday celebrations at Bard College attended by Toni Morrison and Wole Soyinka, among others, I told this story of how Achebe’s name had haunted my life. When Soyinka’s turn to speak came, he said that I had taken the story from his mouth: he had been similarly been mistaken for Chinua Achebe.


The fact is that Achebe became synonymous with the Heinemann African writers series and African writing as a whole.  There’s hardly any African writer of my generation who has not been mistaken for Chinua Achebe. I have had a few such encounters. Every African novel became Things Fall Apart, and every writer some sort of  Chinua Achebe.  Even a protestation to the contrary was not always successful.



The last such encounter was in 2010 at Jomo Kenyatta Airport. Mukoma, the author of Nairobi Heat, and I had been invited for the Kwani festival whose theme was inter-generational dialogue. Mukoma, my fourth son and I fitted the bill perfectly. As he and I walked towards the immigration, a man came towards me. His hands were literally trembling as he identified himself as a professor of Literature from Zambia. 


“Excuse me Mr Achebe, somebody pointed you out to me. I have long wanted to meet you”


“No, I am not the one,” I said, “but here is Mr Achebe,” I added pointing at my son.


I thought the obvious youth of my son would tell him that I was being facetious. But no, our Professor grabbed Mukoma’s hands, before Mukoma could protest, grateful that he had at last shaken hands with his hero. The case of mistaken identity as late as 2010 shows how Achebe had become a mythical figure, and rightly so.



He was the single most important figure in the development of modern African literature as writer, editor, and quite simply a human being. His novel, Things Fall Apart, the most widely read novel in the history of African literature, since its publication in 1958, became an inspiring model.  As the general editor of the Heinemann African Writers Series, he had a hand in the emergence of many other writers and their publication.  As a human being, he embodied wisdom that comes from a commitment to the middle way between extremes. And of course courage in the face of personal tragedy!



The last time I met him face to face was at his 70th birthday celebrations held at Bard College. With me was Njeeri, my wife, and our five year old son Thiongo and six year old daughter, Mumbi.  When I introduced James Currey, and mentioned that he had been Achebe’s publisher, Thiongo decided to write his own novel on the spot. On a piece of paper, he made many marks, folded the piece, and handed the one page manuscript to James Currey. James politely accepted it.  Within the next one hour Thiongo wrote several other one page novels and began rushing them to the publisher. James Currey resorted to avoiding his new writer for the rest of the party. Mumbi reacted differently, drawing a portrait of Chinua Achebe, and gave it to him when my wife took them to be photographed with Uncle Chinua. Mumbi, now a second year college student, recalled that encounter and the line drawing, when I told her about Achebe’s passing on.




Achebe bestrides generations and geographies.  Every country in the continent claims him as their author. Some sayings in his novels are quoted frequently as proverbs that contain a universal wisdom. When my book, Dreams in aTime of War, was launched in Nairobi a year or so ago, the guest speaker PO Lumumba interspersed his speech with proverbs. They were all taken from Achebe’s Things Fall Apart. His passing marks the beginning of the end of an epoch.  But his spirit lives on to continue inspiring yet more African writers and scholars of African literature the world over. 

Ngugi wa Thiong’o


+ Taken from:
http://www.polis.leeds.ac.uk/lucas/activities/leeds-african-studies-bulletin/chinua-achebe-the-spirit-lives thiongo.php

 

 
 

 

Making writing make money in Zim: Stephen Chifunyise

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Full time career in writing is an aspiration shared by many Zimbabwean writers. Except for a few  whose works become prescribed textbooks, most writers in Zimbabwe have  been disappointed by the  unprofitability of their writing. Fiction writers who choose self- publishing have found it even harder to generate income from sales of their books. Those  who distribute their books through bookshops have been as disappointed as those who published through reputable  local or foreign book publishers when they have to accept the reasons  given for not receiving any royalties from the sale of their books. This reality has forced some writers to remain in the writing -as- a -hobby frame of mind which is in itself a major stumbling block to creative writing. It is therefore necessary to look for ways of ensuring that talented writers make their writing careers viable. The following are some of the ways  worth considering.

 

First, all published writers, especial fiction writers, must turn themselves into mobile bookshops for their own books. This entails negotiating with publishers  for an arrangement where the writers  are issued with copies of their books at the authors  discount  and  in which  they proceed to sell their books and get the type of commission booksellers would  have required. Alternatively, the author buys his or her books at authors discount  and proceeds to  sell the books  with a  mark up which  book sellers would have allowed. This arrangement ensures that the writers uses  all occasions to sell his or her books. This is an approach of taking books to the people. I have personally sold many of my own books and of fellow writers at international cultural events at home and abroad.

 

Second, during the Zimbabwe International Book Fair, other book fairs such as in Bulawayo and Mutare  and industry and trade fairs and agricultural shows,  writers could mount exhibition  stands   and sell  their books. The experience of the Writers Collective  which in the  last  two  years has mounted a stand  at the  Zimbabwe  International  Book Fair   to exhibit and sell  books mainly by  self-published writers  has been good.  The presence of authors  at the stand who autograph  copies bought  is a major marketing tool. Some writers had to take people looking for their books to their publishers stands.

 

Third, writers must take advantage of the multiplicity of newspapers and magazines  in the country- a phenomenon that has been followed by the birth of two commercial radio channels,  to  write for these publications and  radio channel. Writers must take up the challenge to become columnist or regular correspondents. They must approach editors of the newspapers and magazine to indicate subjects they would like to write about as well as research they would like to undertake in order to produce features that could be considered for publication. Radio and the television channels need to be approached by writers who indicate what they can  write  for them  especially drama.

 

Fourth, a number of theatre groups are beginning to look for scripts which they can present to corporations, development organisations and agencies for  promotional  and developmental campaigns. Writers with interest in scripting drama for radio, stage and television should seek partnership or collaborations with theatre groups so as to secure writing assignment. Writers should also approach actors whom they have see in   stage and television productions and offer to write plays which they can present to producers for commercial theatre. Writers could also approach theatre producers with their scripts  and indicate  the actors they had in mind  when writing the plays.. Writers of such plays are paid once off fee and a percentage of gate -takings whenever  their  plays are performed. There is strong feeling that  among actors, directors and producers  in Zimbabwean theatre that the shortage of scripts is one of the major challenges being faced.

 

Fifth, writers should approach corporations, development organisations, governments departments  and institutions with offers to write articles, dramas or documentaries  about them, their campaigns and  concerns. The area of environment and sustainable development  is  as potent for engagement of writers as areas and issues to do with health issues. Coming up with scripts for plays about International days that are celebrated in Zimbabwe is one strategy  that   writers  should consider. The writers would be expected to go  international organisations concerned  with the commemoration of such days. Writers could give theatre groups their scripts so that the theatre groups themselves would approach agencies and organizations concerned with the celebrations of the international days.

 

Sixth, the recent developments  in  the production of  computer generated animations has  brought about the need for collaborations between writers and film makers( animators) Writers with good stories for animation are essential and being sought after. Writers associations can help bring about this collaboration by inviting film makers especially those   involved in production of animations to dialogue and establish the requisite collaboration..

 

Lastly, many visitors to the Writers Collective stand  at the Zimbabwe International Book Fair, this year asked for children’s story books  in indigenous languages. One pre-school owner indicated that writers of such books would be expected  to visit pre-school centers with their books  as well as finding out  what children’s books such centres require..

I sincerely hope that these ideas are worth considering.    

THANK YOU

+ Paper presented at the Zimbabwe Writers Association (ZWA) meeting: Harare, September 1, 2012


Invite to a Zimbabwe Writers Association (ZWA) meeting, 2 March 2013

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(picture: Aaron Chiundura Moyo and Musaemura Zimunya enjoying lunch and a chat at the previous ZWA meeting in Harare)
The Zimbabwe Writers Association (ZWA) is inviting you to its next Harare members meeting to be held at the British Council, 16 Cork Road, Belgravia (opposite the South African Embassy) on Saturday March 2, 2013 from 12:00 to 4:30pm.


This time our theme is NEW VOICES. Elias Machemedze from Shamva and the author of the O level set text 'Sarawoga' is going to talk about the challenges and opportunities for young rural based authors. Performing poets Tinashe Muchuri and Cynthia Marangwanda aka Flowchild are going to talk about writing for performance and will spice up their presentations with performances. Finally, Monica Cheru Mupambawashe the author of 'Chivi Sunsets,' is going to report on her recent trip to Uganda on a Femrite programme.


Since this is a new year, members need to update their membership fees.


A. Ordinary Membership US$10,00. Ordinary membership shall be reserved for individuals who qualify on account of being bona fide authors of Zimbabwe, new or established. Individuals shall willingly join even if writer organisations to which they are already members may wish to or have joined ZWA on Affiliate status. Each ordinary member shall have one vote at any general meeting of ZWA.

B. Affiliate Membership US$20,00 Affiliate membership shall be reserved for willing and recognized Zimbabwean writer organizations and/or associations whose objectives serve the interests and welfare of writers of Zimbabwe whose application for membership is approved by the Board. This shall apply to organizations which seek to participate in the work of ZWA on behalf of their members. Each affiliated member shall have one vote at any general meeting of ZWA.

C. Honorary Membership pay in form of donations. Honorarary membership shall be reserved for members of the cultural community who have a proven interest in the promotion of Zimabwean Literature and the arts in general as well as being supportive of the Organization’s goals and who may add value to it through their links with the funding or business community. Normally they are invited to join by the Board. Honorary members shall not be entitled to vote.

D. Associate Membership US$20, 00. Associate membership shall be reserved for willing Zimbabwean and non Zimbabwean writer or arts organizations, non Zimbabwean citizens or non resident writers who have an interest in literature and the arts and who wish to participate in the work of ZWA at the level of mutual partnership. Associate members shall not be entitled to vote.

Remember:  the major objective of ZWA is to bring together all willing individual writers of Zimbabwe in order to encourage creative writing, reading and publishing in all forms possible, conduct workshops, and provide for literary discussions.

Zimbabwe Writers Association (ZWA) is the newest nationally inclusive writers Organization whose formation started in July 2010 leading to the AGM of June 4, 2011. It was fully registered with the National Arts Council of Zimbabwe in January 2011. Zimbabwean writers have taken the initiative to coordinate themselves to form an organisation to represent them and defend their interests. The birth of ZWA was a culmination of self initiated efforts and activities taken by writers of diverse backgrounds with the vision of developing into a strong and dynamic umbrella organisation for writers in Zimbabwe.
inserted by Tinashe Muchuri, ZWA Secretary
ZWA’s By-line: A WHOLE WORLD IN A WORD
0733 843 455/zimbabwewriters@gmail.com

Charles Mungoshi's poetry: a reflection

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picture: Charles Mungoshi with the late Marechera in the 1980s

Charles Mungoshi, one of Zimbabwe's leading writers, is better known as a prize-winning prose writer for his novels and short-story anthologies. His winning profile is impressive - Honourable Mention, Noma Award (1980, 1984 and 1990); Noma Award, joint winner (1992), Commonwealth Writers' Prize: Africa Region (1988 and 1997).

Charles Mungoshi is, however, less known as a poet, not least because he has published relatively little poetry. In an interview with the German scholar, Flora Veit-Wild (1988: pp. 79-88), Mungoshi admits that writing poetry is, for him, only a 'sideline, a mere finger exercise' in his continuing endeavour to condense language to a spare state of fine precision.


Scholarship on Mungoshi characteristically only mentions The Milkman Doesn't Only Deliver Milk, (Harare: 1981; Harare: 1998) in passing. This single volume of his poems is the least celebrated of all his books. Moreover, Mungoshi has published little other poetry beyond a few poems in magazines and anthologies such as Zimunya and Kadhani's And Now the Poets Speak, (Gweru: 1981).


However, Mungoshi's poetry calls for attention as it is closely related to the essence and philosophy of his more celebrated prose. When properly read, his poetry may be seen as the quintessence of his art - capturing subtly and briefly what he achieves in more elaborate ways in his prose. Using a style that is condensed, routinely detached and sometimes deceptively simple, Mungoshi's poetry paints a multi-layered world of meaning. Almost always, the Mungoshi persona provides a private and contemplative voice, but one that is deeply involved in the movement and multiplicity of the larger world. With the aid of free verse and short, almost hesitant, cascading lines there is here a sense of a persona who sees without being seen and talks without rushing to suggest.


In "Poet" the persona/poet is walking "on the edge of now/like a pole-axed tightrope walker" towards his calling: writing. The mere act of writing poetry (and any writing) is perceived as negotiating a balance between present and past, life and death and the craftsman's task is one of social and personal responsibility. As in the Shona tradition (to which Mungoshi belongs) the artist is a seer of both good and bad; famines or bumper harvests, and the responsibility that accompanies such clairvoyance can be both exciting and unnerving.


But Mungoshi can show nostalgia for the long-past, personal, and rewarding world of rural childhood and innocence. As in "Before the Sun", the persona's forté in the world is to chop "big logs", roast green mealies by a bush fire and when the sun "comes up in the east like some late-comer to a feast", it is seen as the boy's terrestrial playmate. Here man and nature commune and the boy's task, like that of the biblical Adam, is to name the world around him.


If Mungoshi can show nostalgia for an age, and a personal history, which is over: he is never sentimental. In slightly more than a dozen lines, his poems acknowledge the difficulties of "Growing Up." The lines typically fall illusively down the page, scoring the effect of a riddle or a cleverly worded idiom where the meaning always lies just ahead of the reader.


It takes many years
to grow a beard

and many years
to shave it off.

still many more of both
to just leave it alone.



Alternatively, Mungoshi can write elaborate narrative poetry which borders on fiction or folk-tale. "Location miracle" is a 'story' about a disabled girl who gradually rises beyond her physical disadvantages and succeeds - to marry a wholly able-bodied young man. Each hindrance on her way is a challenge to rise higher. "Location miracle" rides on the shoulders of subtle understatement, wry, high-density-suburb humour and common-sense. This story-turned-poem has a fireside aura to it and links easily with other similar poems such as "Little Rich Boy", "Lazy Day", "The Same Lazy Day", "After the Rain". Mungoshi's subtle ability to fracture and condense the short story and tell it effortlessly in verse, though rare in Zimbabwean poetry in English, is common in the Shona working song such as the rapoko, (millet) threshing song that helps to make 'work' 'play' and 'play' 'work'.


Another particular form of Mungoshi's poetry in English is the short, condensed poem. Usually it is based on a seemingly nonsensical object, feeling or observation. This brevity, intensity and relatedness to an object gives the poem the multi-dimensional feel of the far-eastern Haiku or Zen philosophy. In the interview with Flora Veit-Wild (cited above) Mungoshi volunteers his admiration for Matsuo Basho, the Japanese master of Haiku. Loosely defined, Haiku form springs from observing a specific object or dwelling on a specific mood or happening. However, Mungoshi's very short poems also remind us of the later poems of the English poet Thomas Hardy that began with a single object - a lamp post, an old table in an old house, etc. but provoke reflection on the meaning and value of life.


In "Non-Stop Through Enkeldoorn" the persona (obviously in a fast-moving car at night) has a sudden glimpse of unknown people's "silent faces" and "wordless mouths", stepping back into the dark as the car drives past. This brief experience provokes feelings akin to seeing/reading momentary words of a page in a stranger's biography. This refers to the brevity of human life and the frightening anonymity of people one cannot and will not ever relate to. Even more acutely perceived is the poem "In the Wilderness":


The torrid silence of the October sun.
Miles upon miles and miles of burnt-out plains.

Suddenly you realize
you are talking loudly to your
shadow.



This poem is about the moment of walking across a wide plain after the burning of grass and the resultant emptiness. Here, as in most of Mungoshi's very short poems, he captures the spirit of loneliness and the capacity of the perceived object or environment to dictate a specific mood or thought. Other poems in this mould are "How do you do it", "In Flight" and "The Trees".


It is interesting to note that Mungoshi's poetry has been generally perceived as rarely making socio-political statements as in the poems of some of his contemporaries such as Chenjerai Hove, Musa Zimunya, Tafataona Mahoso, and others. This is only an interpretation.



Mungoshi's politics may be implicit rather than explicit, but he does not evade matters political. He rather employs the multi-dimensional idiom that offers space for various interpretations. In "Neighbours", for example Mungoshi's persona warns the neighbour against neglecting a wife's conjugal rights because there are many people around - the milkman included - who might offer her that service at any time. That poem is clearly 'domestic' but its undertones are political. Equally volatile, are the seemingly comical antics of the characters in "After the Rain" but the pointers to universal needs such as space, food, warmth, peace, accommodation, freedom, etc. in the poem are essential to any community.


Another aspect of Mungoshi's poetry is the anguished way he writes of "Home" and alienation in general. The poem "Home" - as with Lucifer in the novel Waiting For The Rain - talks about what it means and feels to live in colonially defined space from which you eventually run away, returning only to die "after having lived your life elsewhere". And yet at another level Mungoshi accepts that that space 'home' is a place where recent history and one's people are situated. As in "If you don't Stay Bitter and Angry for too Long" Mungoshi invites you to return into the home within yourself - that unchanging part of humanity, the conscience.

By Memory Chirere  



++ taken from:http://www.poetryinternationalweb.net

Stephen Mpofu's 'Creatures At The Top'

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Title: 'Creatures At The Top' published in 2012, by Spiderwize,
259pages, isbn:978-1-908128-39-3

Authour: Stephen Mpofu



Stephen Mpofu has done justice to his memories. His new book, Creatures At The Top will speak for Mpofu long after he is gone. His grandchildren and their children’s children will be able to see Rhodesia and newly independent Zimbabwe through his eyes and not through the eyes of Mpofu’s enemies or even that of his friends!


He does not claim that he was right in whatever he did or omitted but he leaves you with a feeling that life is a journey with a twisting path and one’s enemies and friends are just sign posts on that road. What matters is one’s own indefatigable ideals and principles and to know that at least one has them.


Using a pen name, Sam, Stephen Mpofu writes about a black boy from Mberengwa in Rhodesia of the 1960s who embarks on the archetypal journey crossing into Zambia to train as a journalist, only coming back to an independent country after two decades, serving in the media during a critical period and eventually being forced to quit when the heat became too much.


This is a book that takes a cross sectional view of Zambia and Zimbabwe, two nations in transition. The point of view here is that of a humanist nationalist journalist. He wants justice and prosperity and he knows and sometimes is even happy that this may bring him down.


It is a story about exile and consequently about Zambia and its hate-love relationship with exiles and war combatants from across the region. This is a story about; the Copperbelt, Chimwemwe Township, the Northern Star, Sam Nujoma, Kenneth Kaunda, the Times of Zambia, Tererai Gapa, Philemon Ngandu, Vernon Mwaanga William Saidi and others. “In their rather harsh and but well intentioned exhortations, the Zambians however failed to acknowledge the role played by Zimbabweans whose votes had contributed to UNIP’s sweet electoral victory.”


Later on, this becomes a no holds barred story about; the power games and the relentless dynamics at the Zimpapers, Elias Rusike, Willie Musarurwa, Tommy Sithole, Charles Chikerema, Moeletsi Mbeki, Henry Muradzikwa, Tonic Sakaike, Davison Maruziva, Gareth Willard, Geoffrey Nyarota and others.


In the new Zambia, Sam had noticed that “there is a tendency among some aides (of the leader) to ingratiate themselves with a leader by telling him only those things that they think will please and pacify the boss. Such aides always want to think for the leader as though he were in that position by default and not on account of a demonstrated capacity to think for his nation and himself.”


His return after nearly twenty years of exile leaves Sam in a dilemma. He had long experienced freedom in Zambia and coming to back to one’s newly independent country was like ‘stepping back in time.’ And seeing people repeating the errors one had seen committed in newly independent Zambia became an excruciating experience.


 This is a book about what Stephen Mpofu thinks about the role of journalists in national development. For instance, editors within the public media must be strategic thinkers who provide input towards national problem solving, Stephen argues through Sam. Where editors blindly kow tow pressures from outside the newsroom, their crucial advisory role is compromised and moral decay sets in. For instance, the Zambian scenario had demonstrated to Sam that errant individual ministries may intimidate newsmen not to expose them, claiming that any publicity would be an attack on the government.


In this book Stephen Mpofu does not claim any heroics. He had gone to Zambia in the early 1960’s clearly to seek an education and a good job in a free environment. It never occurred to him to go for military training alongside the many young people who came from troubled Rhodesia. He however never lost touch with the main characters in the liberation movement whom he openly supported in real life and in his writings. In fact, they counted him as one of their own.


In the final analysis, Stephen Mpofu is unique in that despite what he sees as his eventual sidelining in independent Zimbabwe, he does not break ranks with nationalist ethos. He remains positively within the ideals of self rule.


Stephen Mpofu was born in Mberengwa District. He trained at Africa Literature Centre, Zambia in 1963 and lived in exile in the neighbouring country for 17 years. From 1965 to 1980, he worked for The Times in Lusaka where he rose through the ranks to become Assistant Editor.He returned to Zimbabwe to become the first black News Editor of The Herald in 1981.He rose to become Senior Assistant Editor until 1987 when he became Sunday Mail Editor for two years.Mpofu was then moved to the Chronicle in Bulawayo where he headed the paper for 12 years until his retirement in 2001.He taught briefly in the Department of Journalism and Media Studies at the National University of Science and Technology and later left to concentrate on writing his latest book.He remains a writer, as he is a columnist at Chronicle while he is also a member of the Board of Directors at New Ziana. Creature at The Top is his third book after Shadows on the Horizon (1984) and Zambezi Waters run Still, a sociological novel published in 1996.


 

+Reviewed by Memory Chirere


 


 

 

'Somewhere In This Country' now in Bulawayo, Gweru and Harare

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If your class is doing ‘Somewhere in This Country’ for A level Zimsec Paper 2, you can buy it from  Best Books distributors in Bulawayo, Gweru and Harare:

1.Best Books Bulawayo:Shop 4
74 Robert Mugabe Way
Bulawayo

Tel: 09-76380/90


2. Best Books -Gweru
Shop 3


Moonlight Building


53 5th Street


Gweru


Tel: 054-227358-9



3.Best Books, Harare
9 Windermere Lodge
Mazowe Street
Harare
Zimbabwe
Tel: +263-4-797139/
mobile: + 263772977593

And… below here are some useful notes for teaching the book:
1.Book Review
Reviewer: Jerry Zondo
In a recent interview with a local paper Memory Chirere says he has always preferred reading and writing short stories over anything else. A good short story, he reckons, ‘pricks like the doctor’s needle. You read and re-read until you do not know whether you are still just reading or are now recreating without the author’s permission.’

When you read his first collection of short stories called Somewhere In This Country, you experience this fatal prick. Intentions of characters cannot be easily fulfilled and death is such an eternal reality in Chirere’s stories. For example in Keresenzia, a minor called Keresenzia is a whirlwind of a character for she can easily kill. The boy Batsirai in Watching makes you wonder if he will not drop the axe against his father’s neck. Will he strike, or should the reader be positive and see his ‘chasing’ of his parents in the positive - a need to reconcile than to revenge?

The reality in Chirere literature is harsh, thrilling, bloody, bashing the reader’s interest into a deep-seated realisation that all of life is not friendly and sweet. The adze, in Sitting Carelesly, would painfully cut the artist whose visit to the clinic will reveal that he is of no fixed abode, instead of producing a beautiful wood sculpture. A young child – Jazz – wishes she could have a family by locking up a man dating her mother; she has to have somebody to call dad! Chirere would probably have that child winning because she is too young and too hopeful to lose!
But Somewhere In This Country can also be funny and can attack you with the mischievous and the spontaneous. Two men are ‘married’ to one woman in Two Men and a Woman. They do not exactly fight over her because they are not rivals at all. Sometimes they talk long into the night, not keen to decide who goes in to join her in bed tonight. This dreamy story leaves you wondering if there is any sexual contact between each of these two men and the woman that they are tied to. The story happens inside the minds of the three deeply attached characters and very little happens physically. Reading it is like walking in a foggy vlei in the morning, bumping into familiar but long forgotten objects.

In Maize, which is a masterpiece, an obscure land hungry man admires a spinster who is newly resettled. He keeps on turning up at the woman’s ‘acres’ and begins to spread word that he is the woman’s husband. One day he pretends to forget his old suitcase in her hut so that he has an excuse to return next time. He keeps on coming back for this or that item and as this happens, the maize crop in the woman’s field is growing and their love for each other is growing. Finally they are together without even a single -I love you- word!

The typical Chirere story comes from the suburb (location), the local graveyard, the road and roadside, the farmhouse, the rural area, the urban setting, the streets – basically the human being and places where she can be found or was previously located (and Chirere’s human beings move a lot). In all such places the human being and such animals around her, survives and loves, hates, kills, makes love, procreates, succeeds, dies and is buried.

Each of these short stories is extremely brief, maybe the shortest by any Zimbabwean writer, but they take you through very weighty experiences. For Chirere, a short story is a just tumultuous episode in the life of a character. What is short is the narration not the experience being dwelt upon.

Memory Chirere is considered to be one of the leading literary voices to have emerged out of Zimbabwe in the so called decade of crisis (1998-2010). He shares that spot with the likes of Wonder Guchu, Ignatius Mabasa, Noviolet Bulawayo, Petina Gappah, Christopher Mlalazi and others. He has also published two other short story books: Tudikidiki (2007) and Toriro and his Goats and Other Stories (2010) which have both won NAMA awards. Beyond his creative work, Chirere has compiled and edited various other short story books; Totanga Patsva (an all-women short story book), Children Writing Zimbabwe (a book of short stories for children by children).

(this article appeared on: http://www.panorama.co.zw/index.php/perspective/226-book-review-somewhere-in-this-country.html)


2.'MEMORY Chirere’s ‘Somewhere In This Country’ and the psyche of African Memory'
By Ruby Magosvongwe, University of Zimbabwe

Somewhere In This country (2006), Memory Chirere's first short story collection published as part of the Memory and African Cultural Productions Series by UNISA Press, offers refreshing and complex insights into the psyche of African memory, largely from a ‘children's’ perspective.

Set in both the pastoral and cityscapes of Zimbabwe, the collection of 21 short stories in all takes one onto the road to explore and discover the world and challenges of a burning desire for belonging, reconnection and rootedness that a good number of the protagonists show.

KERESENZIA: The grotesque images that ‘Keresenzia’ and ‘Somewhere’ offer about Keresenzia's and the old man's obsession to link and reconnect with the country leaves one in a maze. Why does this become the central theme in the writer's perspective? This is one critical concern that the African Cultural Production Series sets out to explore.

That the short story collection opens with the horrifying story that debunks the whole idea of children's innocence in the manner that it talks about Keresenzia's brutality towards Matambudziko, her grandmother, is deliberate. The story has several layers of meaning. On the surface, one is confronted with an ingrate orphan who is ruthless and cold to the point of violently abusing and brutally killing her sole guardian, Matambudziko, by striking her with the handle of a hoe without any trace of prior provocation. Matambudziko's incessant efforts to pacify Keresenzia's anger, bitterness and ruthlessness by disclosing the source of her psychological wounds, lead to her death. At a deeper level, Keresenzia's constant demands for attention are indicative of her psychic and spiritual yearning to know her roots and to belong. Beneath the seething anger and antics of brutal emotional hurt she directs at Matambudziko is a deep spiritual void and yearning for rootedness and identity that Matambudziko cannot keep pushing into oblivion.

Interestingly, the harder Matambudziko tries to plaster over the cracks about Keresenzia's past, the more depressed Keresenzia becomes. From the moment Keresenzia names the cause of her distress – orphanhood – she assumes subjectivity by naming her grandmother Matambudziko, which is translated to mean ‘Troubles’ in English. She is determined to torment Matambudziko until she relates the tale of her biological parents, thus giving a legitimate claim to her connection with the pastoral environment she finds herself in. Keresenzia wants to know her real identity, where she hails from, who she really is and how she connects with the present in terms of both time and space. This knowledge will help her psychologically in discovering herself.

Her desire to know the history of her current status of marginalization through orphanhood, and to know about her biological lineage, drives her berserk. Her quest is indicative of a burning desire for rootedness and spiritual connectedness. The craving for this knowledge that Matambudziko withholds becomes almost maniacal, laying bare the contradictions and challenges that riddle the young generation's quest to link with its past. Keresenzia ends up killing the only guardian she knows! Should young people have to kill in order to discover themselves? How much about the missing historical narratives and cultural memory should the older generations expose or insist on withholding from them in the process of the younger generation's identity formation and quest for subjectivity in their lives? ‘Keresenzia’ keeps insisting on Toni Morrison's concept of re
memory that demands that the younger generation's present identity, both in terms of geophysical space and psychospiritual space, be defined in line with their ancestral history. Just as Ali Mazrui argues about the hazards of Africa's short memory and the desire to bury festering wounds about Africa's historical past, similarly, Chirere's Keresenzia is a sordid reminder that there are no shortcuts in dealing with the scars of a people's historical past. It is Matambudziko's blindness in trying to shield Keresenzia from the wounds of her past that drives the young woman to murder – and her loss of childlike innocence.

Without addressing the cause of the anger and bitterness that the protagonist harbours as shown in this short story, without explaining the absence of the lost generation the protagonist wishes to know more about, Africa faces a blighted future. It is as if the story argues that it is important that the missing chips in Africa's historical narratives be accounted for so that the child of Africa may freely discover itself; being bludgeoned into a predetermined mode will only blight the young person's future as well as that of the African continent.

SOMEWHERE: Similarly, the yearning for spiritual reconnection by the old man in his desire to revisit the hills of his childhood pastoral environment in ‘Somewhere’ cannot be quenched: neither by the luxurious life of the Americas nor the pampered existence of the city. The bundle of senility under the quilt suddenly comes to life when the driver and his brother get to the precincts of the hills; this takes his companions, as well as the reader, by surprise. It is as if Chirere is insinuating that the old man has no difficulty in rediscovering himself, to the extent of wrenching authority from the driver and driving the unfamiliar vehicle on the crown of the road without any incident once he reconnects with his childhood terrain and environment. The agility of the old man and the quick reversal of roles is so dramatically captured that it leaves the reader in stitches. Unlike the violence in ‘Keresenzia’, ‘Somewhere’ closes on a hilarious note.

MAIZE: ‘Maize’ focuses on the contentious subject of land contestation and reclamation that saw the liberation struggle galvanizing and mastering the support of the disinherited indigenous black Africans. The story focuses on the joyous privilege of land ownership by a newly
settled black farmer in Zimbabwe. In the narrator's own words, it ‘speaks about human presence and settlement’ (p. 65) and the bliss of ownership and creativity that comes with the privilege of subjectivity in freed space(s).

Ironically, however, the resettlement of the landless black is fraught with irregularities and contradictions. In an unassuming manner in ‘Sitting Carelessly’, Chirere explores the fate of the former migrant labourer, now displaced by the new farmer, an ‘alien’ with less right to the land than his black sisters/brothers who have some ancestral claim to the ‘vacated’ land! The alien is now viewed as an illegal settler and is evicted together with his former boss/owner to make way for the rightful owners of the land. After displacement he survives by squatting on the roadside and makes a living through sculpture and vending at the country's major exit and entry points. The story thus also explores the contradictions and complexities that need sophisticated and yet pragmatic alternatives so that the country's stability can be maintained. With every opportunity of correcting the anomalies of Africa's colonial past there are challenges that African political leaders must anticipate. This story has a message of serious import; there are the grave challenges of resettlement in Africa. And yet the seriousness is overshadowed by the innocence and simplicity of the title; Memory Chirere's sense of mischief and satiric humour are very apparent here. Who wouldn't want to hear more about someone who sits carelessly?
THE PRESIDENTIAL GOGGLES: ‘The Presidential Goggles’ is yet another short story dealing with a sacred subject – that of succession and ideological continuity in the African political space. It sees Chirere experimenting with style and form in his dramatic and scenic division of the episodes in the development of the ousted president's mimicry of his former hold on power. It is ludicrous that the adage – once a teacher, always a teacher – seemingly applies to this ousted former head of state. He cannot come to terms with his now
destitute status and his anachronistic and therefore undesirablepresence. Having outlived his relevance, even in the lives of his own children, the ousted president is relegated to a mental asylum where the new generation are justified in keeping him. As perceived by many of his critics and opponents, rather than being an asset to his own country and nation, the old man has become a liability. It is ironic that in spite of the allegation that he has long outlived his welcome and is regarded as a political burden to his people, the old president still commands a following.

Whilst the new political leadership and the men in dark suits who claim to be his biological offspring search for him high and low (for he has become a threat to the survival of his nation), the old man is busy addressing a rally somewhere in the city! The repeated dramatizations of these episodes through the curt dialogue between the characters in the story mask the authorial voice, thereby giving collective authorship and ownership of this people's socio
historical narrative. At the end of the day Chirere shows the subjectivity of the people taking charge of the political direction their country should take. It is risky for them to leave things to chance, yet there is also still a measure of sympathy for the senile president in the playful dramatization of episodes in this narrative.

Could Chirere be casting a spell on the Zimbabwean political leadership, who may be perceived to have conveniently forgotten about the philosophy of their own elders who saw positivity, continuity and enrichment of the communal collective in rotational leadership? In their wisdom, and rightly so, for the good of their own communal existence and survival, the Shona elders had a much revered maxim for those in public office: Ushe madzoro, hunoravanwa (Political headship is rotational and give each other a chance to have a bite of the cherry)! Strict adherence to this maxim kept autocratic leadership in check, pre
empting civil strife and political leadership feuds. ‘Presidential Goggles’ offers in a refreshing and mischievous way this twist to political leadership on the African mainland. Talk about Amilcar Cabral's Return to the Source and the African academics' insistence on keeping the narratives about the nation alive and invigorating for the young generation!

The collection does not just dwell on the serious themes of historiography in its fictional narratives. Chirere also takes his readers through lighter moments that both the young at heart and the serious
minded reader can enjoy. There are interesting stories about both country childhood and city childhood that readers will find entertaining and educative. For example ‘Missy’, ‘Three Little Worlds’ and ‘Jazz’ focus on the intricacies of the ageold theme of love that tickles the young and old alike. ‘Missy’ tells of a country boy's obsession about his lady teacher and the innumerable antics he uses to catch her attention. Laying it all bare here will obviously take away the excitement that the story generates.

THREE LITTLE WORLDS: ‘Three Little Worlds’ also arouses excitement in the way that it explores the mysteries of efficiently and sufficiently minding the three worlds of a woman implicated in concurrent relationships. Just in case the readers of this series may be led to conclude that the writer is obsessed only with issues of the larger public sphere, one can enjoy reading how it is done on the Zimbabwean landscape by fleeting through these love stories! ‘Jazz’ offers the reader a rare opportunity to explore and experience with Emily the hurdles that the economically
emancipated and culturallyliberated female single parent faces in the life of Harare's avenues. Instead of listening to or playing jazz music, the reader meets with Jazz, Emily's fiveyearold girl, who is music to Emily and her lover Joel.

Similarly, like ‘Jazz’, ‘An Old Man’ explores and exposes the challenges and brutality of life in the jungle that Harare's cityscape has become. The heartlessness of the life on the streets of Harare is shown through the demarcated turf that the street children have to religiously observe. For street children like Raji, Sami and Zhuwawo, the city turns out not to be an Eldorado, but a jungle where only the vicious can survive. One feels a chill when Zhuwawo, ‘identity
less’ with no kin except Sami, with whom he shares thesame turf, is run over by a van whilst crossing a busy street to invade Raji's turf in one of his breadscavenging escapades. Zhuwawo's death leaves Samitotally exposed and at the mercy of Raji, whose motivation for life seems to be geared to seeking revenge against any person who might have crossed his path. Raji's presence in the story bespeaks of a trail of violence because he is convinced that everyone owes him a living. This challenge of the streetchildren legacy in Zimbabwe's history brings a certain embarrassment about Zimbabwe's social delivery system. On the surface, yes, the writer is talking about the predicament confronting the undesirable street urchins; but the same story shows worrisome cracks in Zimbabwe's social history. Will this ever be a desirable chapter in the cultural narratives of Zimbabwe's history?

Chirere's children also get space in ‘Beautiful Children’, where the narrator shows the ugliness of xenophobia in the way the Mozambican refugee child is exploited by a fellow black. One would want to find out for oneself what it is that makes these children strikingly beautiful when Ayi Kwei Armah writes about ‘The beautiful ones who are not yet born’. The story opens a can of worms, so to speak, in terms of civic education about the rights of the child and the general sympathy people must feel for each other as human beings. Chirere's story reflects the same theme of childhood destitution that Tsitsi Dangarembga's film, Everyone's child, shows. The short stories, by and large, take it upon themselves to challenge every reader to be introspective about how they have made their world a better place. Are these short stories only reminiscent of the Zimbabwean experience?

What is the point of engaging in hard politics of collective identity, spatial claims and issues of communal survival, or worse still to be locked up in stories about pitiful childhoods and xenophobia when the bang of life in you gushes out at ‘Sixteen’ and awaits personal exploration? One also can't afford to spoil one's sense of adventure and the suspense that ‘Tafara’ (We are delighted) offers! Both ‘Sixteen’ and ‘Tafara’ are set in Harare's high density suburbs; first hand experience of these will allow the reader to get a real feel of how the ordinary Zimbabwean citizens live on a day
today basis. Need this reviewer say more? Somewhere in this country offers the reader a spectacular opportunity to explore the highs and lows of Zimbabwe's social and cultural narratives together with the characters the reader meets on each fresh page! Definitely a mustread.

3.'IDENTITY in Memory Chirere’s Somewhere in this Country'
(By Josephine Muganiwa)

Somewhere in this Country is a collection of short stories in English that capture Zimbabwean experiences. A running theme in all the stories seems to be identity. Chirere’s characters do not deal with colonial ascriptions per se but are well developed in a way that explores clearly all the nuances that shape their identities. This paper will focus on three stories; ‘Suburb’, ‘Sitting Carelessly’ and ‘Presidential Goggles’. These stories encourage a new way of looking at issues contrary to the official position thereby becoming protest literature.

‘Suburb’ is about a squatter camp on the outskirts of a town by a flowing river. The story is told from an insider perspective and hence the title ‘Suburb’is ironic. Chirere plays on situational irony. The residents of the new suburb are considered illegal settlers by the town planners as evidenced by the bulldozers that come to raze the place down. The plans were made by the colonizers without taking into consideration the needs of the indigenous people. That means the influx of people in search of employment after independence was unforeseen. Since the checks and balances put in place by the colonial government to keep blacks out of towns (pass laws) had been removed, accommodation problems increased. The so-called ‘native townships’ could not accommodate everyone. The low density accommodation was too expensive for the unemployed blacks and hence the rise of illegal settlements commonly known as squatter camps.

The contract that binds the settlers in the new ‘suburb’ has no colonial history but is based on utility and local agreement. Chirere captures this well;
"It all began in a small way. A man and his two friends discovered a
Certain old man with shaky hands and red eyes staying on the outskirts
By a slow flowing river. Out there by himself, with neither dream nor pains.

It didn’t take long to fix because the three men had a chat with the old man and the following day they carted their suitcases, primus-stoves, wives, children and other things and settled. They had founded a suburb. They would always remember how more and more people had trickled to this place, slowly but surely. It was a suburb and that is what they called it." (S.I.T.C. p10)

The old man discovered the place and has the right to accept or reject company. He is described in a way that makes his identity mysterious. His eyes are "red and his hands are shaky." The old man is without neither ‘dream nor pain’ because the attractions of city life do not entice him and neither does he have the pain of rentals, transport, and to be more contemporary, power cuts and water cuts. Implicit in the statement is that the old man is better placed than those that stay in the town. He does not like to talk about money and out in the ‘suburb’ there is little use for it enabling the wise to save:
"The old man didn’t like to talk about money either. When he did, it was to ask if you had made much out in town that day. If you happen to make much, look after it, he would insist. It is easy because there is no rent and electric bills out here, he would add." (S.I.T.C p10)
While it is difficult to make money one can live comfortably in the ‘suburb’ and while many in town dream of being home-owners, the settlers in the ‘suburb’ are proud owners of their homes:
"If you had never seen him enter his house, then you missed a fancy example of entering a house- sideways, bowing and sighing because the eaves were low and there was nowhere one could get zinc sheets long enough to build a house with a high door frame and a proper verandah." (p10)

The house is badly built because of poverty but Chirere celebrates this achievement and draws the reader to admire the way the old man is comfortable in his new surroundings. However, the word ‘sighing’ betrays a sense of longing. The old man, obviously, had a better life as exemplified by his “suits… particularly the corduroy one which everyone knew to be expensive.”

Whenever a squatter camp is mentioned, there is a tendency to think of its inhabitants in stereotypical fashion as thieves, prostitutes and thugs. Chirere gives a kaleidoscopic view of the inhabitants as decent people representing the cross section of society; the rich, the poor, the educated, the skilled and unskilled. The characters are not given names, except for Jack, Simon and Zacharia, because they represent anyone in similar circumstances. The characters are thus described as, “a man and his two friends”, a man with groceries, a man knocking to greet the old man, two men disagreeing and then making up, “a man who wore waistcoats and had a job in town”, a man in cyclist helmet, a man and a sullen faced woman, a young man who finds a job after a long search, two women whose father dies. The bulldozers bring workmen and gunmen. The only character who is specific is the old man and even he is shrouded in mystery in the style of magical realism. His response to the question of where he came from is “from all the corners”. The old man is the centre of life and inspiration for members of the ‘suburb’. One is reminded of Matigari in Ngugi wa Thiongo’s Matigari. He comes from everywhere, understands everyone’s pain and inspires them to hope for a better future.

The bulldozers pose a real threat to the inhabitants of the suburb and this is clearly highlighted in the following words:
"Several babies cried but no one bothered because there was the hungry sound of bulldozers to worry about. Soon, the bulldozers will get to the first house and wait till you see zinc tumbling, bricks giving way and the table and bed roll and crumble and someone’s fortunes and sweat come to naught..."(p13)
Ironically, the city fathers only see an unplanned settlement being removed, an eye-sore to the rich. The authorities are thus an impersonal authority that does not care about individual plight which includes lack of shelter and destruction of personal wealth and self-esteem. It is from this threat that the old man rescues the people. While everyone else is frightened, the old man remains calm and in control. Chirere writes;
"The old man advanced as comfortably as he does when going for a bath down to the river.
He came face to face with bulldozers and spread out his arms like a green eagle in flight. He shook his head….
The old man talked. The old man cried out and you agreed that some voices are extracts of thunder. He stamped the ground. He pointed in the direction pf the river, the suburb and at the sky. He hit his chest with a clenched fist and sagged down to the ground.
The suburb thought he had been ordered down but they saw him shoot up and begin to walk back towards them." (p13)

The theatrics described here are similar to a wizard casting a spell. It then raises questions on the identity of the old man. Is he a spirit medium? Is he a magician? Or is he, as hinted earlier, a former freedom fighter? Why do the bulldozers reverse and drive away because they had not known the old man was part of the suburb? Chirere deliberately weaves his story in such a way that these questions are not answered. If the old man has no magical powers then the corruption of the city’s laws is revealed. It shows that crime is only crime depending on who has committed it.

Sitting Carelessly deals with identity in terms of nationality. In this regard it is similar to Signs. Both stem out of the Land Redistribution Programme of 2001. Pempani is of Malawian descent but born second generation in Zimbabwe and hence has never been to the country of origin. The land redistribution programme renders him homeless on the technicality that he is not of Zimbabwean nationality and hence is not legible to be allocated land. Chirere explores the irony of this situation, centering on the need to provide an address at a clinic.

The story shows Pempani struggling to define who he is and his options of survival given his particular circumstances. All his life, Pempani’s identity has been premised on Acton farm which no longer exists. His dilemma is similar to that of the Negro in the United States of America after the abolition of slavery. Hitherto his identity had been premised on the Master. Pempani is distressed and says,
"Where will l go if you take the farm? You will take the farm and baas goes driving in his car, but where will l go? (...) My father’s father and my father came to this country from across the Zambezi. Black man like you. Black, like two combined midnights. See, my father worked here. My mother worked here. They are buried here. Their folks too: Alione, Chintengo, Anusa, Nyanje, Machazi, Mpinga, Zabron, Banda, Musa." (p76)

Having come to Rhodesia from the then Nyasaland to work in the farms, make a fortune and go back home. Pempani’s father fails because of the meager wages. He decides to die in Zimbabwe because he questions himself, “If l cross the Zambezi at this age, what will l show for my years this side of the river?”(p78). Unfortunately for Pempani, having relatives buried on the land does not make it his, because it belongs to the white man who usurped it from the blacks who want their land back. Pempani’s plight is similar to that of Povo’s mother in Mujajati’s The Wretched Ones whose husband is buried on Buffalo’s land But she is evicted. This explains Pempani’s appeal that he is also black, a call to put Pan- African theory into practice.

The term ‘home’ itself is not easy to define. Pempani’s family is split as his wife goes back to her people in Murehwa after the farm is taken. He fails to go with her because;
“I just don’t want’, you retort. You can hear the Murehwa villagers’ laughter. Laughing rudely and provocatively at a son-in-law from the farms who has brought his wife and all these children because he has nowhere to go. A man who can’t go back home across the Zambezi. Because of that, it begins with the jarring sound of an axe grinding. Home. Where is home? Across the Zambezi where grandpa came from? Home cant be where l know no river, valley, hill, stone…Where l haven’t dug the soil to sow a seed… You heard your father, one day, say to Anusa and Alione over a beer, “If l cross the Zambezi at this age, what will l show for my years this side of the river?”
Home explodes into the stitched throbbing thumb as you sit by a road that leads to Kariba." (p78)

In the above quotation home is defined in several ways: as where your spouse and children are, as your father’s house, where you have lived all your life, the physical terrain you know, what you have built with your own wealth and finally, shelter over your head. Each of these definitions is tied to a cultural norm of a particular people.

Pempani fails to join his wife in Murehwa because among the Zezurus it is improper for a real man to live in his father-in-law’s household. It implies that his wife is in control of what happens in the home. For the Malawians, who are matrilineal, that would not be much of an issue as it is common in their homeland. This difference in culture leads to Malawians being labeled stupid and effeminate. Pempani then resists fulfilling this stereotype even though his situation is desperate. The fact that his wife goes back to her father’s house shows that Pempani has failed as a man to provide for his family. His father similarly fails as he has nothing to take back home with him. Another cultural expectation is that one does not come back home empty handed except failures.

However, for Pempani, going across the Zambezi is not a solution for him. It is only a place where grandpa came from. The home he knows is Acton farm, whose soil he has dug and sown seeds, and the physical terrain he has explored. In this sense he is similar to John Hurston in Signs who is worried that the blacks will take away his home and farm which is an inheritance from
"Grandpa [who] came here from the wars and you know very well that they gave him and others this side of the river because you folks here could not work this heavy clay in summer. You get it?" (p74)
As far as Hurston is concerned, the land is his because he has been working it in the same way that Pempani feels the land is his. However Hurston’s situation is not as desperate as Pempani’s. He has money to buy other properties and move on. Hurston’s only desire is to protect family honour and not go down in history as the one who lost it;
"And moments later, he mournfully said, “How l wish Pa Rockie and Grandpa Peters were here with me when it finally happens. Lord, don’t let anything happen to Heinz. Am l the weak spot, God, God?” (p73)
The farm highlights the glory of Hurston (grandpa) having fought in the World War. It was a reward for white people displacing blacks, such as Marimo, who thus participate in the land redistribution cheerfully. Pempani and his people are caught in the crossfire having crossed the Zambezi as economic refugees with the hope to return. The injustice of the whole situation is the ironic twist of life that it never seems to turn out as planned. Both Pempani and John are victims of their grandparents’ adventures leaving them with an identity crisis. Are they really Zimbabweans? Where do they belong: a home they have never seen or the only the only home they have known? What are they to do when the people in the home they know insist that they do not belong? How are they to deal with such rejection?

Pempani ends up homeless, living by the roadside carving animals and selling them to tourists. Absent minded, thinking about his identity, he cuts himself and ends at a clinic where he has to put in words what he has been thinking about. The nurse gets angry at Pempani’s response that his name is Pempani Pempani. She thinks that he is making fun of her because culturally she is not used to such names which are common among the Malawians. Providing an address becomes a problem as noted below:
Place? One must come from a place? People, place, every time! But, how to say it when you are from Acton farm? And you can’t be from there now because everybody knows it was taken. “By the road. I come from a place by the road,” is all you can say. By the road where you carve human heads and kudus from tree trunks for sale to motorists who ride to Kariba.Neither can you say Murehwa because that is only where your wife and children are, at her parents’ place. But you must say something, at least. Earrings is waiting, cant you see?

Selling wood carvings is not easy either as it is dependent on Madame’s mood or how one reacts to her ‘sitting carelessly’. In the end Pempani decides to go back to the land and get allocation. To the question, “Who are you?” by the official:
“That is a long question to ask,” says Pempani, “But l will answer.”

The story ends on this note, Pempani giving a quick response unlike the time at the clinic. In essence he has come to terms with who he is and has found answers to what he wants his future to be like. He has solved his identity puzzle.

The Presidential Goggles presents another dimension of identity where one is identified by the image s/he presents. Like all of Chirere’s stories it has an ironic twist and the joke is on the city audience who are taken in by the old man. To apply the rural/urban dichotomy of the first generation Zimbabwean writers, the rural audience is not fooled by the old man as the city audience does despite its claim to sophistication.

The story is based on the discovery a mentally ill old man makes; that in dark goggles he resembles a former president of the country who was feared for his ‘Brown Belts’ boys that terrorized people. He decides to use this as a ticket to fame and riches but his sons blow his cover and ruin the whole plan. The humour of the story is that the old man asks questions and people respond giving details that are dependent on what they read in the image presented by the old man, both visual and aural. When the old man mentions “his boys” he means his sons but because he has projected the image of President Box people think of the ‘Brown Belts’. However, in all this drama, Chirere explores the game of image making played by politicians on a national scale.

Chirere presents the story in kaleidoscopic fashion capturing the journey of the old man from the rural area to the city. This helps him show the different groups in society and how they react to the image presented as it affects their identity and standing in society. The old man is first presented to the reader as a fine picture of dignity and poverty,
An old man (dressed in a pair of flapping trousers, a dog-eared waist coat and a tie tucked under the disintegrating shirt collar), trudges from a footpath onto a wide dirt road. He stops at the junction and scans the thread of the dirt road, from the horizon to this point, one hand on forehead.
In full view, the old man is of medium height, clean shaven and slightly stooped. A ‘chiefly’ walking stick balances horizontally on one shoulder, a bulging plastic bag. (p80)
The old man is obviously concerned about his looks as he takes good care of himself despite the poverty. One gets the idea that this is his best image. The ‘chiefly’ stick hints at his love of power. However the image of dignity he presents contrasts with how he jumps into the road;
"When the cart gets to his point, the old man drops his bag and walking stick by the roadside and monkey-like jumps and lands in the middle of the road, waving his arms. He wants the vehicle to stop!" (p80)
‘Monkey-like’ emphasizes the idea of a prankster and hence the reader is caught between whether to take the old man seriously or simply as a comedian. The driver of the donkey-cart is obviously not amused and therefore ignores the old man.

The bus conductor is interested in getting more customers and arriving at his destination on schedule. Consequently he is “irritated by the old man’s unnecessary show of grandeur” delaying him. The old man reacts by striking the conductor and declaring his identity as the President. No one takes him seriously and the conductor does not beat him up at the entreaties by the passengers.

Age seems to play a part in how the people react to the old man. The two boys herding cattle fail to respond to the suggestion of “the Boys” and conclude that the old man is mad. The irony is that they are close to the truth and as a result power is on their side as they are able to make the old man “totter down the road, falling, rising, running...” At the roadblock, it is the young officers who have no memory of President Box who refuse to believe.

In the van, the passengers refuse to believe the old man and their arguments against the idea are rational and logical. The driver, too, initially does not believe and is more incensed that the old man is banging his car. It is only at the insistence of the old man that he changes his mind:
"Standing face to face with the driver on the dirt road, the old man quickly puts on his goggles. ‘It is I, the President. Don’t you recognize me?’
The driver clicks his tongue but he gives the old man a serious look. The old man glares intently at the driver from behind his glasses. Suddenly, the driver gives a terrified cry and sags down. ‘President Box.’ He stands up and staggers back. ‘My goodness! It’s you. What?’ He staggers backwards again. When the driver looks again, the old man is standing at attention. Exactly! Exactly!" (p82)
The old man enacts the role of President and the driver of the van allows the image to trigger memories in his mind. At first he clicks his tongue, then is terrified, then is excited and becomes the spokesperson for the old man. Meanwhile, the old man watches his reaction planning his next move, which is, to take over control and order everyone; the other passengers back into the back of the van and the driver to drive on with the old man by his side in the front compartment.

When they reach the roadblock the old man has fully gained his confidence and playing the role of President to the bone. The police officers perceive the driver as drunk ( they presume alcohol but he is drunk on the image of Box represented by the old man) as he violates the law not to mention Box or General Pink Which can lead to his own death. The general comments by the officers are the cue for the old man to present himself, first, in a powerful commanding voice that makes the officers to ‘stiffen’. The visual presentation makes
[a] number of officers gasp. ‘It’s him.’ ‘So he wasn’t killed?’ ‘He is alive after all.’ ‘And his boys, the Brown Belts.’ The old man stands at attention by the door, ‘So you see, it is me, ha? (p84)
The memories of terror in the officers lead them to conclude that it is the president. Again the old man watches them attentively before making his next move. The fight between Rocky and the sergeant is triggered by allegiance based on tribalism. Vharea is Rocky’s homeboy so he stands to benefit from Vharea’s being in power. On the other hand, the sergeant is Box’s homeboy. In this remark is a powerful commentary on African politics that seem not to focus on one’s ability but what benefits one’s support to them will bring. This is the root of corruption. The old man ignores the fighting officers and “beckons at the driver. They drive off at top speed, towards the city.”(p85)

At the Broadcasting station the soldier called Max trembles at the image of Box. The one who is not moved declares,
‘No, Max, This is just some distant resemblance,’ one soldier says. ‘Box died. I read about it at school. Besides, my own uncle saw his corpse!’ The soldier turns to the old man. ‘Old man! Get out now! Out!’ He fumbles with handcuffs. (p85)
The soldier’s conviction comes from having two reference points; the books at school and his uncle. In Zimbabwe, and Africa in general, there is a tendency to respect book education and accounts by close relatives. This is what fortifies the soldier against being moved by the image represented by the old man. The old man moves away reluctantly because he knows the others, like Max, believe him.

The next move by the old man is to mobilize a crowd to help him go past the soldiers into the Broadcasting station. Crowds that gather easily in cities largely comprise of poor loafers, the unemployed hungry, thieves and the curious. The speech made by the old man appeals to this crowd,
The suffering, the crying of this great nation has forced me to come back! I want him to resign peacefully or l will ask my boys, who are all over, to descend on him!
Enough is enough!
Cheers. The old man puts on his goggles and the crowd goes mad, ‘Exactly!’ ‘Exactly!’ ‘The glasses’ ‘It’s him’ ‘Just like in the pictures!’ ‘Viva Box!’ (p )
The crowd in this instance comprises of the marginalized. Their knowledge of the President is from the pictures (newspaper or television) and thus it is just an image. It is ironic how one declares they have recognized someone based on glasses that can be mass produced and bought by anyone. However the speech to end suffering answers a call in the crowd’s heart and they follow him. Of interest is that once the soldiers appear with guns, the crowd is not so willing to follow and flees at gun shots. The old man, left alone, flees.

Finally, in the hall, the old man wears a new suit and the crowd is middle class. Again, the reactions are based on personal interests;
Well said, your Excellency! ‘Just as you used to do during those years.’ ‘I could feel it’ ‘I feel like fighting!’ Another man: ‘Shake my hand, Mdhala! Welcome! Tell the boys to make it quick, we are behind you!
Another man: ‘Box, is this you? Something always told me that you couldn’t be dead, Mdhala! Mdhala is back!’
Another man: ‘A word with you, Box. Forgive this, but, as soon as it happens, l can volunteer to stand in the Finance office. I’m a PhD! But, just tell the boys to hurry. Vharea won’t give in. I’m telling you!’
The crowd is motivated by validating their own thoughts; disbelief that Box had really gone. At times reliving moments of past glory, as well as seeking lucrative ministerial posts.

At this height of glory, the old man’s sons arrive,
"The old man sees them and shakes. He holds his head desperately. He holds his mouth and then his waist. He shakes his head...The old man points desperately at the speakers. ‘My boys,’ he says. He moves in circles. He protests. He shakes his head. He holds his mouth and his waist. He begins to move in circles again." (p87)

The revelation of the truth kills the old man’s dream and the hope of leaving poverty behind. The reaction of the crowd to the new image of the old man as a dangerous madman is interesting,
"Then, the crowd pours out through the stage doors, the normal doors, and the windows…" [STORY ENDS HERE]
The city crowd is gullible and reacts to any words by anyone at anytime. The old man walks away, throwing off the new jacket symbolic of discarding his identity as Box. He most probably will search for a new adventure and identity.

Conclusion
Chirere’s stories are hinged on individuals in specific dilemmas dealing with specific identity questions. These are, however, linked to the larger national, class and racial identities. We are presented with characters that are realistic and easy to identify with ( Pempani and Hurston) On the other hand we have characters that are magical in the sense of having the ability to make thing happen and difficult to define (Two old men in ‘Suburb’ and ‘The Presidential Goggles’). They do not have specific names because they are universal and fluid.

ZIBF Harare - 2013 calender REVISED

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Dear All
On behalf of the ZIBF Executive Board, I would like to advise our valued key stakeholders, funding partners, writers, publishers, booksellers, librarians, prospective presenters, exhibitors, educationists, scholars and members of the general public that our calendar of activities has been revised in order to make way for the Zimbabwe national plebiscite scheduled for 31 July 2013.
We sincerely apologize for any inconvenience this may cause to all concerned.

Nevertheless, ZIBF intends to run on the same Theme as previously advised, namely,“ZIBF@30: Enabling Creativity, Writing, Publishing and Reading for Africa’s Growth”. Most crucially, we remain committed to our enduring objectives and to ensure that the events continue to celebrate our thirty years of providing a truly Zimbabwean and African Book Fair with the same revamped programmes and activities as promised. 



The following is a schedule of the new dates for our outstanding activities:


ZIBF 2013 BOOK FAIR DATES: 30 September – 5 October



 Indaba 2013 Dates                 30 September – 1 October


Young Person’s Indaba         2 October


Setting-up Day                       1 October - 1430 hours to 1630 hours


Traders’ Day                           2 October


Exhibitions                             3 - 5 October


Writers’ Workshop                5 October      


 MUTARE BOOK FAIR DATES: 18 – 19 October        


Setting-up Day                       17 October - 1430 hours to 1630 hours


Exhibitions                             18 – 19 October


Writers’ Workshop                18 October


 More information regarding these events will be made available to the public from hereon. We look forward to your continued support.


 Kind regards


Mr Musaemura Zimunya


Chair, Executive Board, ZIBF



ZIBF 2013 Theme:         "ZIBF@30"


Indaba 2013 Dates:       30 September – 1 October


Book Fair Dates:           2 October  – 5 October


Setting-up Day:             1 October 1430 hours to 1630hours


Bulawayo Book Fair      22 March - 23 March


Masvingo book Fair       31 May - 1 June


Mutare Book Fair           18 October -  19 October


Telephone: +263 4 702104, 702108, 705729,  707352


Tel/Fax: +263 4 702129


 


 


 

Zimbabwe Writers Association (ZWA) mourn Chiwoniso Maraire

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The Zimbabwe Writers Association (ZWA) board, the entire membership and all our friends and colleagues in the writing fraternity of Zimbabwe and abroad are deeply saddened by the sad loss of Chiwoniso Maraire; singer, songwriter, and exponent of Zimbabwean mbira music. We pass our condolences to her family, the arts fraternity and fans. In our view, Chiwoniso was a fellow storyteller and intellectual who demonstrated rare talent, vision and wit. We shall miss her friendship and her rare ability to promote enduring Zimbabwean cultural traditions through her music. People like Chiwoniso do not die!
Tinashe Muchuri
Secreatary General, Zimbabwe Writers Association, 27 July 2013

+263733843455/ zimbabwewriters@gmail.com


New Literary magazine for Zimbabwe

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The Write Mag Call for Articles

Published by Write Africa, and edited by a renowned Zimbabwean author, literary critic, lecturer and blogger, The Write Mag is a new quarterly literary magazine whose key focus is on promoting African literature. The magazine will be produced in print, with an online version available on the Write Africa Website in due course.

This is a call for articles to the first issue of the magazine, which will have an initial print run of 5000 copies and distributed around Zimbabwe and exhibited at major local Book Fairs. Authors, lecturers, teachers, critics, reviewers and other interested individuals are invited to submit articles of any length, and on any theme, based on the following broad and sub-categories.

1. Book Reviews

-New Book Reviews,
-Blast from the past book reviews, Local, regional and International
- The Bookstore and Featured book prices

2. Publishing information

-Publishing options- traditional, self, co-publishing, etc.
- Publishing platforms: print, e-publishing, etc.
 -Featured publisher in Zimbabwe, Africa or The whole world,
-Publishing Advice 

-PublishingAgents

3. Author Profiles and interviews

-Established Authors (living and dead, with priority on 1. Zimbabwean, 2. African and 3. International authors in that specific order)
-Upcoming authors, but with a growing profile and some form of published work or making the waves
-Pictures, works, interviews, etc.
4. Literary works

-Previously Published work excepts
-Unpublished work excepts or full content
+ short stories
+ poetry
+ plays
+ Novels and Novellas (only excerpts will be published)

5. Study guides and information on Literature

-For Students in High Schools
-For University students

 

6. Literature and ICTs

-ICT hardwares, software and applications
-How to information- on creating, managing, using marketing e-platforms
-Featured platforms
8. Features

-Any arts related issues that have a bearing on the literary arts or artistes.
-Other organisations and initiatives that are making the arts headlines
9. Intellectual property

-Copyright and intellectual property
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Submission Guidelines

The Deadlinefor this call is 21 August 2013. Articles received after this date will be considered for future editions.
Send all articles to: writeafricatrust@gmail.com
All inquiries: Lawrence Hoba (Write Africa): +263772939136/
Conditions


-Write Africa will not be paying for this issue, but all contributors will receive 5 copies of the magazine.



-Submission does not entail subsequent publication as this is a competitive process, but the editorial will make an effort to communicate with all individuals who submit articles and acknowledge receipt of submitted articles as well as the status of their articles.


The 'return' of Charles Mungoshi

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Branching Streams Flow in the Dark By Charles Mungoshi, published in 2013 by Mungoshi Press, Harare, 165 pages, ISBN: 978 079 7444911, prize$18, phone: +263 774054341
(previewed By Memory Chirere)


This transcendental novel; Branching Streams Flow in the Dark, published by his family,marks the long awaited 'return' of leading Zimbabwean author, Charles Muzuva Mungoshi.


The prize winning author of Coming of The Dry Season, Waiting For The Rain and Kunyarara Hakusi Kutaura? who had been ‘silent’ ever since his major single publication, Walking Still in 1997, has chosen a special way of returning. As his wife, the acclaimed actress Jesesi Mungoshi states in the dedicatory note, ‘it took Charles over 20 years to write this book and he was still perusing through it when he fell into a coma on the 30th of April, 2010’.


He has thankfully recovered in time to see it in print.


It is therefore befitting that this book is about living beyond malady. During her darkest and loneliest moment, when her baby dies of AIDS and her husband runs out of the house and her mother is virtually unkind, Serina Maseko sees through herself and others, as if she were beyond pain and reproach. She is floating because during this period, before the advent of Anti Retro Viral Therapy use in the management of the Acquired Immuno-Deficiency Syndrome (AIDS), being diagnosed as having the infection is an automatic death sentence.


Serina begins to write a very long and winding letter to a long - forgotten school mate, Fungisai Bare. In that letter, Serina forages through her turbulent life and that of people around her, confessing her sins and confronting all the ghosts in her life, searching for certain key moments to hold on to…


“That laugh! That echoing percussion laugh of his! It made me a little sad and excited and extremely nostalgic for something I-didn’t-know-I-ever-had-but-which-I-suddenly-missed all together at the same time, as if it were something half-remembered from a very distant and dusk-hued place, where you could see as in a dream hardly-formed stick-figures in sunlit-dust-motes silhouette and before you could touch them, they would all dissolve and disappear before you – except for a lingering where-am-I sensation left in you…That laugh! You don’t know how much I rode on it and it took me where I fantasized that you never happened and he was all alone with me on this trip – but – BUT – you would suddenly appear! You put the fear of thunder and lightning in me. I don’t forget how you shredded Ketina Zvapano to tear-soaked shame-drenched rags when you lit upon her after you had heard that she’d been walking – or showing? – your Leo the secret ancient bush toe-path up to the sacred never-dry-up spring in the old hills!


 

And then Serina comes across one Saidi on a city bus. It is just by chance! As you read on, you want Serina and Saidi to fall in love. You tell your foolish self that this is love at first sight! It is because Serina and Saidi are forlorn because they have AIDS. But Serina soon learns that Saidi is and has been much closer to her than she has ever known. Saidi leads Serina to her long lost father – the evergreen Samuel Maseko. Saidi leads Serina to her runaway husband, the brilliant coward - Michael Gwemende. Saidi leads Serina to his own mother, Samuel Maseko’s first wife - the indefatigable Stella Mkandhla Dube! Finally, Saidi leads Serina to a path into herself.



 

All these ‘streams’ begin to branch into what was threatening to remain unknown. Here, as in the novels of Jose Saramago, especially Blindness, seeing can be both disease and recuperation:



 

“… If you were looking at Mother looking at Father, then Father appeared to be dirty, uncouth, uncivilised (Mother’s favourite word), backward – and you found yourself lost in seeing him like that… you would convince yourself that this was your original observation of him... on the other hand, if you were looking at Father looking at Mother, you saw shame and falseness right through everything, starting first and foremost, with the highly out - of – key voice shrilling for attention so that it jarred on the nerves like a child running a razor blade through velvet skin… Mother would not hear Father. She would simply see her poor husband, Samuel Maseko, as an also-ran, second-hand sort of lost soul…”



 

You come away from this novel with a feeling that the river of life stretches from the familiar, and branches into the far away and subterranean streams of eternity.



Get your copy, for $18 by phoning: +263 774054341

NoViolet Bulawayo comes to Harare... with her novel

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On the occasion of the publication of her novel, We Need New Names, recently nominated for the ManBooker Prize, Weaver Press and The British Council, Harare gladly invite you to meet NoViolet Bulawayo in discussion with Rumbi Katedza preceded by a reading. Date: Tuesday 27th August 2013, Time: 5:30- 7:00 pm, Venue: British Council, 16 Cork Road, Belgravia, Harare. RSVP: 308330/701658-60

+AND below my previous review from: http://memorychirere.blogspot.com/2013/05/kwachirere-reads-we-need-new-names.html



Title: We Need New Names
Author: NoViolet Bulawayo
Publisher and other details: Reagan Arthur Books, May 2013, Weaver Press, 290 pages

(Reviewed by Memory Chirere)


NoVioletBulawayo’s debut novel, We Need New Names confirms the existence of a certain special tradition in the literature of Zimbabwe which cries for adequate recognition and evaluation.


Ever since Dambudzo Marechera of The House of Hunger’s “I got my things and left… I couldn’t have stayed in that House of Hunger where every morsel of sanity was snatched from you the way some kinds of bird snatch food from the very mouths of babes.” in 1978, there has been a quiet but sustained outpouring of narratives about leaving the homeland (Zimbabwe) because of crisis.



Marechera and his contemporaries and those immediately after him like Shimmer Chinodya, Alexander Kanengoni and Valentine Mazorodze pruduced various narratives about leaving home (then Rhodesia) to go either to join the war of liberation or to exile. These tally well with the legendary escape of current President Robert Mugabe himself and colleague Edgar Tekere, from troubled Rhodesia through Inyanga into Mozambique on foot to lift the war of liberation to a higher notch. There are many such stories in the public sphere.

And in more recent years, specifically dwelling on what is now called ‘the decade of Zimbabwean crisis,’ we have Christopher Mlalazi’s Many Rivers, Brian Chikwava’s Harare North, and the multiple voice compilation: Hunting in Foreign Lands, Novuyo Rosa Tshuma’s Shadows and now; NoViolet Bulawayo’s We Need New Names, among others, writing on going away.

In all these stories ranging from the 1970s to the present, home is depicted as going through various forms of turmoil which expresses itself most through political instability. The central character, who is almost always a young fellow, flees home and country in search of an alternative existence.

However, this character remains double faced; looking at foreign territory with eyes of home and glancing back at home through the teary eyes of new experience and beginning to re-read ‘home’. The resultant chasm constantly tugs at one’s soul. However, to read NoViolet Bulawayo's new book is to take constant departures and arrivals, inside out and upside down until you lose count because she is constantly aware of the numerous points of view to the subject of going away from Zimbabwe. She is aware that the phenomenon that she is working on is actually in motion and that Zimbabwe will one day rest on any of her many intriguing sides.

To return home or to remain out here or to forget everything… is where you locate our character. To return home is to jump back into the fire and to accept defeat. To remain abroad, however, is to wallow in the invisibility of a little foreigner. To forget everything is not possible if you are as sensitive as NoViolet Bulawayo’s Darling Nonkululeko Nkala.  It is most ironical that at that very moment, our character from this kind of literature asks or fails to ask important questions about what exactly has happened or not happened to one’s people and country: How did it start? Who causes it? Who benefits from it? Are we certain that we see all of it for what it is?

From Marechera to Bulawayo, history may one day judge these stories against that rubric.

The mind of Darling is an encyclopedia bursting with minute details from; the distinct aroma and taste of guavas stolen from the backyards of a posh city suburb to the rigmarole of shanty town dwellers of Zimbabwe. And that kind of pregnancy of detail that you find in this novel, like the descriptions of the onset of Operation Murambatsvina, is one of its strengths:

“…the bulldozers appear boiling. But first before we see them, we hear them. Me and Thamu and Josephat and Ncane and Mudiwa and Verona are outside playing with More’s new football, and then we hear thunder. Then Ncane says, What is that? Then Josephat says,  It’s the rain. I say, No, it’s the planes. Then Maneru’s grandfather comes sprinting down Freedom Street without his walking stick, shouting, They are coming, Jesus Christ, they are coming! Everybody is standing on the street, neck craned, waiting to see. Then Mother shouts, Darling-comeintothehousenow! But then the bulldozers are already near big and yellow and terrible and mental teeth and spinning dust. The men driving the bulldozers are laughing. I hear the adults saying, Why why why, what have we done?”

NoViolet Bulawayo’s language, as in the blues, is both depressing and exhilarating. It invites you to laugh and cry at the same time:

“Look at them leaving in droves, the children of the land, just look at them leaving in droves. Those with nothing are crossing borders. Those with strength are crossing borders. Those with ambitions are crossing borders. Those with hopes are crossing borders. Those with loss are crossing borders. Moving, running, emigrating, going deserting, walking, quitting, flying, fleeing to all over, to countries whose names they cannot pronounce…”

And when they get to the destinations of choice, the Zimbabweans and fellow migrants find that there is no sweetness here either:

“And the jobs we worked, Jesus-Jesus-Jesus, the jobs we worked….We took scalding irons and ironed our pride flat. We cleaned toilets. We picked tobacco and fruit under the boiling sun until we hung out our tongues and panted like lost hounds. We butchered animals, slit throats, drained blood…holding our breaths like crocodiles under water, our minds on the money and never on our lives. Adamou got murdered by that beast of a machine that also ate three fingers of Sudan’s left hand… Ecuador fell from forty stories working on a roof and shattered his spine, screaming, Mis hijos! Mis hijos! on his way down.”

This novel juxtaposes a tumultuous Zimbabwe against a well fed and technologically advanced America as seen by a young and impressionable Zimbabwean girl. Darling discovers that Zimbabwe and America are worlds with two very different passwords. What Zimbabwe does not have materially, America offers but not for free! Closely looked at, America offers its own kind of turmoil to those (like Darling) who do not want to be second class citizens and who constantly claim that they have somewhere ‘my country, my people, our President, our language’ and other things.

The vivid backlash or maybe the ‘cruelty’ of this story is contained in poor teenage - mother-Chipo’s words from Zimbabwe in a telephone conversation with Darling:

“Just tell me one thing. What are you doing not in your country right now? Why did you run off to America, Darling Nonkhululekho Nkala, huh? Why did you just leave? If it’s your country, you have to love it to live in it and not leave it. You have to fight for it no matter what, to make it right. Tell me, do you abandon your house because it’s burning or do you find water to put out the fire? And if you leave it burning, do you expect the flames to turn into water and put themselves out? You left it, Darling, my dear, you left the house burning and you have the guts to tell me, in that stupid accent that you were not born with, that doesn’t even suit you, that this is your country?”

Chipo’s analysis may have its own problems but this and other acute questions raised by this novel, will mark it as one of the tightest rope walking narratives by a Zimbabwean. Zimbabweans, wherever they are today, will find out that this searing novel, begs the citizen’s position to the Zimbabwean question. The book is to be launched this May 2013 and the author is currently based in the US.

The first chapter to this novel, ‘Hitting Budapest’ won No Violet Bulawayo the 2011 Caine Prize for African Writing when it was presented as a separate short story. Announcing Bulawayo as the winner of the £10,000 prize at a celebratory dinner held at the Bodleian Library, Oxford, the chair of judges and award-winning author Hisham Matar said: “The language of Hitting Budapest crackles. Here we encounter Darling, Bastard, Chipo, Godknows, Stina and Sbho, a gang reminiscent of Clockwork Orange. But these are children, poor and violated and hungry. This is a story with moral power and weight, it has the artistry to refrain from moral commentary. NoViolet Bulawayo is a writer who takes delight in language.”


 

Josephine Muganiwa reads Mungoshi's latest book!

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(a recent photo of Charles Mungoshi by Victor Dlamini) 
Charles Mungoshi’s new masterpiece; Barnching Streams Flow In The Dark, encourages everyone to carry out a reality check. Besides being a story about terminal illness, this novel celebrates life. It affirms that love is the greatest ingredient of life. Love covers all and provides hope no matter how bleak the situation is. While the narration is occasioned by the pain of discrimination, the narrator is spurred on by the memory of a loved friend from high school. In writing to Fungi, Serina relives her old days and purges the pain within her. The handling of the theme of love is to reveal its complexity. Loving hurts but... it also thrills! Meeting and parting is also part of the game. This book answers the classical questions: Is it possible for a man to love two women at the same time? What is love? Is it possible to fall in love with the idea of being in love? What is the place of polygamy? What is marriage? Is marriage the church certificate or the intertwining of lives? Is it possible to have a soul mate; the kind of relationship between MaDube and Serina’s father? This story is fluid and it carries you along like a river. I can still hear Saidi playing his sax in the sky, at the Great Conference. A must read for all!
+Josephine Muganiwa, University of Zimbabwe, Harare, August 2013.


Get your copy, for $18 by phoning: +263 774054341

The Grass Is Singing- S.O.S.

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If you have new or good second hand copies of Doris Lessing's The Grass Is Singing, my literature students would like to buy them! Contact:chirere02@hotmail.com / memory.chirere@facebook.com

ZIBF 2013 Press statement: 3 September 2013

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ZIBF PRESS STATEMENT

3 SEPTEMBER 2013


ZIBF OFFICES, HARARE GARDENS.



Chair of The Zimbabwe International Book Fair, Members of ZIBF General Council and Executive Board, representatives of our funding partners here present namely, CULTURE FUND IN PARTNERSHIP WITH THE EUROPEAN UNION, BRITISH COUNCIL and HIVOS IN PARTNERSHIP WITH THE NORWEGIAN EMBASSY, members of print and electronic media, ladies and gentlemen.

I would like to welcome you all to this occasion where we now confirm our state of preparedness to hold the main edition of our 2013 Zimbabwe International Book Fair and inform you what the nation and the international community of publishers and writers may expect to experience between the days of 30th September and 5thOctober.


Back in December 2012 we had scheduled our Book Fair to take place from 29th July to 3rd August 2013.  Unfortunately, none of us could have been prophetic enough to foresee these dates clashing with the period of our national plebiscite.  Given that we all experience an unusual concentration of energies, some positive, others negative, prior to, during and after the elections, we found it prudent to push our dates further back, however inconvenient it seemed at the time. 

Of course, the last straw that broke our back was the announcement to close schools four days before our planned dates.  We all know that schools are the biggest clientele of our book sector and that young scholars provide the majority of visitors to the Book Fair.  As well, we have several programmes targeting the youths including Young Persons Indaba, Live Literature Centre, Children’s Reading Tent and The Digital Zone, without which the Fair would be practically soulless.  I provide all this information to help you put into context the rather viral and gratuitous speculation on the social networks wildly suggesting that we stopped running the Book Fair for fear of the impending violence and chaos of our elections.


For those who may not be informed, this year we commemorate 30 years of our existence as the closest thing to Africa’s prime Book Fair.  In this spirit, we have chosen a Theme that sums up our focus all these years: ZIBF@30: ENABLING CREATIVITY, WRITING, PUBLISHING AND READING FOR AFRICA’S GROWTH.  So far, we have already run The Bulawayo Book Fair (March) and launched for the first time The Masvingo Book Fair. 

Our thrust is driven by a vision to spread the exhibitions and love of books as far and wide across the nation as possible and strive to be relevant to our stakeholders at all times, and so far we have received enormous encouragement and support from the two Book Fairs to suggest that we are going in the right direction.  

In both these book fairs we have introduced a new event called “The Literary Evening” where selected writers are invited to perform, read or discuss their works before fellow authors and interested members of the general public.  The enthusiasm of these evenings provided us with an inspiring trial run for the Main Book Fair in Harare and The Mutare Book Fair in October.  The idea is to bring back the buzz and ambience or atmosphere for which The Book Fair was famous at its height.  So we have plans for “The ZIBF Harare Literary Evenings”.  About this, more information will be provided as we draw nearer to the occasion. 


And, as with last year, we are also dedicated to running a digital sub-theme through The Indaba, The Young Person’s Indaba, The Writers’ Workshop and the Exhibitions.  We are especially grateful to the Office of the President for a generous donation of computers to ZIBF for the purpose of fulfilling this very objective.


By now, you will also be aware that we ran a two-day All-Stakeholders Anti-Piracy Workshop in May where representatives of the primary, key and secondary stakeholders of the book industry met to discuss the extent of piracy, its causes and characteristics in Zimbabwe as well as identifying possible solutions.  A Focus Group was created to draw up an action plan and present a preliminary report during the coming Indaba.  Everyone is anxious to discover the contents of this report and what hope there is to rid the country of this economic curse.


So, the 2013 Main Book Fair is upon us now, bar an unforeseen crisis.  We had an overwhelming response to our Call for Abstracts for our Indaba and can confirm that we had to disappoint not a few prospective presenters.  Our sessions cover a variety of topics, some of which fall under the following Sessions: “Indigenous Languages and Knowledge Systems”, “Digitization”, “Dialogue and Tolerance in African Communities” and “Health and Environment”, to name but a few.  We also plan an Evening to Commemorate 30 Years of The Zimbabwe International Book Fair. Yet again, more information will be availed closer to the event.  For The Writers Workshop, we have decided to run on the Theme: “Writing for Children Now”.  As you may agree, it is very crucial for our literary and book sector to revisit this theme in the light of our changing society and technological revolutions that demand adjustment in order to remain relevant to our children and future citizens.


Ladies and gentlemen, comrades and friends, I would like to finish these few words with acknowledging the trust and support in cash and kind we have received for our programmes and activities from the following:


     

Ø  CULTURE FUND IN PARTNERSHIP WITH THE EUROPEAN UNION


Ø  KOPINOR AND NORCODE


Ø  BRITISH COUNCIL


Ø  HIVOS IN PARTNERSHIP WITH THE NORWEGIAN EMBASSY and


Ø  THE OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT AND CABINET, ZIMBABWE.
I should also pay tribute to our media partners for continuing to support us throughout the year.  Long may you continue to serve the nation in support of education and literacy.


Thank You Very Much


MUSAEMURA B ZIMUNYA


CHAIR, EXECUTIVE BOARD, ZIBF
Contacts: events@zibfa.org.zw Telephone: +263 4 702104, 702108, 705729,  707352


Tel/Fax: +263 4 702129

 
 
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