Short Writings from Bulawayo II
Publication Year: 2008
Published by: African Books Collective
Everything is Gonna Be All Right
For a man whose wife we had buried two hours earlier, Mpala was too
energetic for my liking.
He emerged from the four-roomed house with the air of a conquering army . . .
It’s His Who Wakes the Hare
“You must be content with what you have in life,” Msindo was advising Qolo. They were standing under the barren mango tree in front of Emakhandeni . . .
A gigantic eagle perches on the top of an anthill and rests in a trance. Instinctively she lifts her powerful wings and soars into the sky. The wind ruffles her . . .
Bathing with Tadpoles
March and April, the months of rain. Not the rain that awakes the urge to turn the earth and put in the seed. Nor the rain to spur plants to race towards . . .
Something about Tea
Back then Gran and I had one secret, although the number was to increase significantly in the next few years. Every Sunday, Gran would go to morning . . .
By midday, the streets belong to green-clad youth militia, policemen, soldiers, and silent men in dark glasses. If you act, look, or talk funny, they pounce . . .
Past State House
Crossing the Divide
The rains had come. Good soaking rains. The road through the veld of the Sabi North was awash with water and puddles that had lingered after the latest . . .
The sun is a ball of fire slowly moving across the October blue and white-grey sky. It is the object that has turned the whole earth into a boiling . . .
It was in the first week of October 2000 when Shirley was finally forced out of her home on Barrymore. No seed had been planted in the land. No . . .
He was not exactly camp, not visually anyway; but he saturated himself with the sweet scent of roses, a scent that remained in the classroom even . . .
I had a strange dream. I was floating. Flying away. Mother was crying. Father stood still and sad with his head hung down, one arm tightly hugging . . .
Between Two Men
Merrily, MaSiziba and her husband Ncube left the beer hall in Luveve singing the latest song, NomaKanjani by South African songbird, Brenda Fassie. They . . .
Our ‘Notre Dame’
We sit on the railway line, the three of us, stoned. The iron is warm - it has been absorbing the sun’s heat all day. Our feet are spread out before us . . .
The Girl with the Stolen Virginity
All the world had run away from her. Even her closest friend Chipo no longer wanted to be associated with her. Chipo only offered her company to this . . .
Although situated in the landlocked province of Zimbabwe, the inhabitants of the sparkling city under a perpetual blue sky spent lots of time at Indian . . .
The Messenger’s Finger
He stood at the braai stand behind Emakhandeni Bottle Store, a quart of beer held in his left hand. In the right hand he held a sharp sliver of wood, which . . .
Thoughts of attending the funeral weighed heavily on my mind. I had never attended a funeral before. My parents, being the protective type, have always . .
Come to it after sunset and you think you have just come to a ghost city. No lights can be seen from afar because they are either paraffin lamps or . . .
One for the Road
Four hundred kilometres from Bulawayo, the bus stopped. In the red setting sun, I could see some mud huts next to a brown maize field. As the bus picked up speed . . .
I’ll Fly Away
The Sun scorches the land and her children. My heart is pounding and bleeding. A desperate madness lingers in the dark corridors of my mind. I’m scared. Maybe . . .
We had just crossed Simukwe River. Within a few minutes we arrived at what was once my home, the late Jobe Mabuza’s homestead. The big smooth rock . . .
Page Count: 124
Publication Year: 2008
OCLC Number: 647934357
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