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Writing Lives

Irene Staunton

Publication Year: 2013

Writing Lives, a collection of short stories, featuring Lawrence Hoba, Tendai Huchu, Tendai Machingaidze, Nevanji Madanhire, Daniel Mandishona, Christopher Mlalazi, Blessing Musariri, Chiedza Musengezi, Sekai Nzenza, Fungisayi Sasa and Emmanuel Sigauke. Writing Lives is the seventh of Weaver's anthologies of short stories following Writing Still, Writing Now, Laughing Now, Women Writing Zimbabwe, Mazambuko and Writing Free. As with the other anthologies, this vibrant collection reflects the lives and experiences of Zimbabweans as filtered through the lens of each author's perceptions. Writing Lives gives us stories that will make us laugh and bring tears to our eyes as it provides a focus on the past, the present and even the future.

Published by: African Books Collective

Cover

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pp. 1-3

Title Page, Copyright

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pp. 4-5

Contents

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pp. v-vi

Notes about the Authors

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pp. vii-x

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Our Freedom

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pp. 1-5

We trudged slowly along, bright early summer stars lighting our way. Meshack, who?d driven us a part of the way, could take us no further. We thanked him, knowing there was nothing more he could do. There was no fuel. We?d spent two hours with him trying to find the twenty litres needed to go kumusha and then come back to town; we?d only man-...

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The Life After

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pp. 6-13

A few hours after I crossed over, I still remembered a few things from my former life. I?d not yet drunk the waters of the Lethe. I remembered my father and mama weeping, my friends, family, and everyone I knew and loved, gathered around me. Their wave of emotion, mostly grief, longing, and a sense of loss washed over me. In this state, I could al-...

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The Red Vienna is Back

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pp. 14-16

Driving down Borrowdale Road in a daze, I saw it and smiled. Laughed even, as I was transported back to my childhood. The era of the Red Vi-enna. Post-Chimurenga. Born Free. Born into prosperity. Born Takunda. I was returning from ten years of studies abroad to visit my parents. I had barely escaped witnessing the crumbling of all my heart held dear. ...

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Her Books

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pp. 17-23

A bee flew into my house the other day. I watched it as it circled the room once, twice, then it made for the window, which was closed. A bee will behave like the most stupid moth when confronted with glass. Insects will hit their heads against the pane until they drop dead. Even the honey-bee, the smartest insect of them all which lives in the ...

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Better Build Boys than Repair Men

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pp. 24-33

The funeral wake was at a small house on the southern end of Ardben-nie Road, near George Stark School. The dead man?s name was Conrad ?Square? Ruwizhi, a notorious robber who had died during a shoot-out with police near the busy flyover on the Beatrice Road. Conrad Ruwiz-hi?s nickname had much to do with his birth, when an inept midwife ...

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Tsano

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pp. 34-44

My name is Gubha Jamela. Gubha means to scoop a hole in the ground in Ndebele, and now I?m digging mass graves. Was this my destiny Crazy as it seems, I?m happy doing this. People need to be buried. No one needs to be told that. And I?m burying my people. It?s the last good thing I can do for them to ensure their souls rest in peace and their ...

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Like Datsun

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pp. 45-52

Amai Bettina?s nagging desire to witness the evangelical miracles taking place in the sports stadium, gave rise to a most remarkable day. Not only was her wish unfulfilled, but events unfolded in a manner that left Amai Bettina ? generally known for her outspokeness in the face of in Unit G, Seke, when asked by her ever-solemn child how her day ...

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Trespassers

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pp. 53-66

Chembe lies on his bed, floating between wakefulness and sleep. It is May. The chill of an approaching winter stirs him awake. He slides under the blankets and stretches out an arm to put out a candle, crush-ing the burning wick between thumb and forefinger. A smell of candle fumes lingers. He fluffs up a pillow, positions it, but before he lays his ...

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Mbuya, My Grandmother

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pp. 67-75

At dawn the rooster from our village compound makes the first call, others from nearby villages and across the river follow in full throat. Then a peaceful and almost serene silence falls on the soft air. I leave the village compound long before sunrise every day. I walk down the valley, then climb the kopje to the high granite rocks and lis-...

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We Are All Comrades Now

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pp. 76-84

...?For what?? Petros could hear her sharp intake of breath. She was clearly offended. Then, silence. She was probably going to scold him for five minutes, and then complain about how nobody appreciated her, especially him. He was glad he?d disabled Skype and video-calling on his android landline. It was going to be a long telephone conversation. ...

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The Last Battle

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pp. 85-98

Teacher Elias Gudo scans the room and flinches at the chafed walls and cracked cement floor that have become his nightmare. The room is stale and uninspiring. He didn?t like it from the day the headmaster showed it to him. Now, the way things are going, there?s no chance that it will be fixed soon, not with the headmaster prioritising the volleyball ...

Back Cover

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p. 110-110


E-ISBN-13: 9781779222572
Print-ISBN-13: 9781779222350

Page Count: 108
Publication Year: 2013