Short Writings from Bulawayo III

Ode to Departed Writers

42 Ode to Departed Writers Albert Nyathi Dear fellow writers departed I hope this poem finds you in good spirits Heroes of art and self expression Dear Dambudzo Marechera If you suddenly came back to life again today You would not recognise Harare Not even Vengere Township in Rusape Where you were born It was very clean then It became dirty Very dirty in the eyes of authorities Now it is clean again Operation Murambatsvina came With a large broom called bulldozer And the new townships which were blessed With the cutting of ribbons were all gone Africa Unity Square had roses And now it is clean again And again you may not recognise it Dambudzo. Dear Mthandazo Ndema Ngwenya Babazala, your Bulawayo still exists, We still have old buildings timelessly Staring at us with question marks No investment has come our way They destroyed G & D shoes And all and all and all and all Babazala ziqunywa amakhanda ziyekwe. We now have developed a culture of queues Fuel queues, bread queues, sugar queues, salt queues We have mealie-meal queues and bank queues It’s queue after queue after queue We have lots of conmen 43 Conning people at every corner We have lots of bouncing cheques And failing businesses Banks being bankrupt Lots of big fish are being fried Also small fish still face the pan The police mean serious business For the corrupt ones. To fellow writers departed To Mayford Sibanda, to Dambudzo Marechera To Geshiom Khiyaza, and to Nandi Xaba We remember you dearly To the many of you To Stan Made, to Modiki Abenia Hamutyinei To Yvonne Vera, to Ndawana Ncube To Peter Mahlangu, to Doris Ndlovu And to Jane Chifamba With all the passion, we remember you. To Sodindo Ncube, to Stephen Alumenda To Obadiah Mlilo, to Tisa Chifunyise To N.P. Ndlukula, to P. J. Nondo, to Dr Chiwome To Norbert Mutasa and to Phillios Khumalo Since you left things have never been the same. There is no petrol nor diesel Neither paraffin nor kerosene People are stressed, strained People are squeezed, drawn out Overstretched financially We now budget in billions and trillions And zillions No longer even in millions We now have a currency called bearer cheques. 44 It’s all jumbled up You have little sisters With little skirts Standing at every corner of the Avenues Awaiting their turn to make a living But the police are also cleaning up the Avenues. Dear fellow writers departed We now have new farmers But God is not smiling on us No rain comes down So our farms are dry O all is frustrating man Some have left the country And are now in the UK Looking after old people there Others are thieving in Botswana And South Africa Home is not sweet anymore for them Home sweet home. Dear fellow writers departed I have to rush for a fuel queue In a garage next door I hear there will be Deliveries next week I have to start queuing now. ...