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Short Writings from Bulawayo II

Jane Morris

Publication Year: 2008

Short Writings from Bulawayo won the Literature in English category at the 2005 Zimbabwe Book Publishers Association awards. It is a book of stories, poems and non-fiction pieces that are evocative of Zimbabwe's second city and its rural surroundings. The collection from 23 contributors tells of many things: of family and friendship, or fear and death, or witches and spirits, of hunger and drought, of dreams and aspirations, of leaving home and leaving Zimbabwe, of queues and loneliness, of football and bicycles and of growing old and of love. A unifying theme of many of the stories and poems is loss - of innocence, of purpose, of love, of culture, of belonging, and of life.

Published by: African Books Collective

Title Page

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Copyright Page

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Everything is Gonna Be All Right

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pp. 1-5

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 . . .

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It’s His Who Wakes the Hare

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pp. 6-12

“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 . . .

My Dustbin

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p. 13-13

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pp. 14-18

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 . . .

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Bathing with Tadpoles

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pp. 19-21

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 . . .

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Something about Tea

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pp. 22-28

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 . . .

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The Coming

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pp. 29-31

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

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pp. 32-33

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Crossing the Divide

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pp. 34-37

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 . . .

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The Photo

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pp. 38-41

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 . . .

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Full Circle

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pp. 42-45

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 . . .

Illuminating Flames

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pp. 46-47

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pp. 48-49

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 . . .

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City Insomnia

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pp. 50-54

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 . . .

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Between Two Men

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pp. 55-57

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’

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p. 58-58

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The Seekers

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pp. 59-65

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 . . .

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The Girl with the Stolen Virginity

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pp. 66-69

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 . . .

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pp. 70-75

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

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p. 76-76

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My Meat!

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pp. 77-80

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 . . .

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Amainini Wendy

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pp. 81-84

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 . .

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My Hood

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pp. 85-88

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 . . .

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One for the Road

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pp. 89-96

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 . . .


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p. 97-97

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I’ll Fly Away

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pp. 98-101

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 . . .

The Baboon

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p. 102-102

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The Anthill

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pp. 103-110

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 . . .


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pp. 111-116

Back Cover

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E-ISBN-13: 9780797443327
Print-ISBN-13: 9780797428966

Page Count: 124
Publication Year: 2008


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