New Stories from Zimbabwe
Publication Year: 2008
Published by: African Books Collective
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Table of Contents
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A Grave Matter
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SYDNEY STRAIGHTENED HIS BACK TO admire his handiwork. He wished he was working on film stars in Hollywood, or at least Cape Town, but coming from a family of engine drivers for the National Railways of Zimbabwe that was unlikely. He had stumbled into this line of work after his father, who was meant to be at soccer, walked...
Minister without Portfolio
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‘STEADY MHOFU STEADY … SLOW DOWN!’ It was a harsh command. The Stetson on the woman who sat in the rear fell off her clean-shaven head as the car swayed a little. The contents of her glass spilled onto her lap....
The Chances and Challengues of Chiadzwa
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WITH ROADBLOCKS MOUNTED ON ALL MAIN ROADS out of and into the Chiadzwa area of Marange District inManicaland Province, there was little chance of anyone smuggling out the recently discovered diamonds without detection. Large numbers of soldiers, plain clothes and uniformed policemen and women were deployed throughout the district....
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At the gate she nearly collided with a cat strapped up in a white bandolier. Two scrawny dogs were alternately courting and kissing with their cordless snouts, or sniffing in the half-light for condoms among food scraps, waste paper and garbage. Trying to make love at the foot of a hill of demolished brick and mortar, they were eager to beat the...
A Land of Starving Millionaires
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THE MILLIONAIRE STAGGERED TOWARDS the long line of tuckshops. The stagger of an inveterate beer-drinker after one bottle too many. Only he hadn’t gulped anything for quite a long time. Four days to be precise. Not even a sip of tap water, due to the unpredictable watercuts in his part of the city. He hadn’t eaten anything either, or nothing...
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THEY COULDN’T FIND A SUITABLE URN so they used a two-litre Lyon’s Maid ‘Cornish’ ice-cream container. Bukhosi would have appreciated it. That guy had a sense of humour. All his NGO friends and a smattering of locals were there. Icrisi hugged the plastic box to her swagging chest, Mesafi held the poem she had composed for the...
Cocktail Hour under the Tree of Forgetfulness
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FOR TEN YEARS, SINCE SETTING UP THIS FISH-AND-BANANA farm in the lowveld, Mum and Dad have made their sitting room under a tree that is mostly obscured bymymother’s garden, an exultant snake sanctuary of cultivated excess: creepers, buffalo grass, wild bananas, pawpaw trees, vines. It’s as if here, where topsoil was brought from the...
The Mupandawana Dancing Champion
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WHEN THE PRICES OF EVERYTHING went up twenty-six times in one year, M’dhara Vitalis Mukaro came out of retirement to make the coffins in which we buried our dead. And in a space of only six months, he became famous twice over, as the best coffin maker in the district and the Mupandawana Dancing Champion....
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PENGA WALKS IN TO FINE FARE’S OFFICE. It is a large office with one side of the wall dominated by a large window that gives Fine Fare a bird’s eye view of the yard from the first floor. His eyesight is legendary and he’s been known to spot a driver unwrapping a chocolate packet in his cab five trucks away. When this happens, Fine Fare simply...
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SUDDENLY, EVERYTHING SEEMED TO have gone wrong; but no one could tell what the cause was nor what had really happened. We sat down – Chimoto, Baba Nina and I – and in hushed tones discussed what might have occurred. But exactly five hours and two gallons of thick home-brewed opaque beer later, we’d only succeeded in getting...
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IT WAS MPOFU BANGING AT THE DOOR, and it was 3.00 a.m. on a wet
windy night in December.
‘What’s wrong,’ I shouted from behind the solid wood, burglar-proof door, for this was Zimbabwe at the start of the twenty-first century.
‘They’ve taken the rabbits.’...
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AFRICAN FILMMAKERS MUST HAVE the above when an international crew wants to set up their film. The foreign producers may be liberal. They may even wear leather sandals. They may be lumpy, drink a great deal of gin and drive a Porsche with a Jewish registration. But the true story is – they will all have a satisfied look that they are really...
A Dirty Game
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IN JANUARY 2003, WHEN I WAS THIRTEEN YEARS OLD, my eldest sister Bernadette sent us an e-mail saying she was planning to marry a Kenyan doctor she had met whilst studying medicine in England. She said the special wedding invite was on its way and the event itself would take place on Boxing Day in an old stone church in a town...
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IT’S A STRANGE FAMILY, OURS, A REAL MIXTURE. I manage to avoid most of them during the year, but not at Christmas. At Christmas they all pop again for the once-a year family dinner. Not that we’ll all be together this time. For one, Nicholas and Lisa are in New Zealand. They left in March and live in a place calledWellington. I looked it up...
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Page Count: 124
Publication Year: 2008