Monday, February 15, 2016

EXPERIMENTAL WRITING: Volume 1 Africa Vs. Latin America

Two weeks off the deadline of EXPERIMENTAL WRITING: Volume 1 Africa Vs. Latin America. Please don't get left behind. Send in your entries in time.
First rule is: there are no rules to creativity, writing, thinking, feeling, being. Beat the boundaries, bend, them, push them, pull, exaggerate, spread things around, throw the yoke off, blow smoke up, burn it, throw the ashes into the air…just do something new, unique, innovative about your writing. We are not looking for easy reads, writing that blindly follows the rules, writing hammered down, writing the literary establishment forces down our throats as correct, right, and universal. Send us your best experimental, avant-garde or innovative fictions, non-fictions, plays, poetry, mixed genres… in 2 languages: English and Spanish. Send work in only one genre of your choice!
Poetry (3 poems per poet, each poem must not be more than 40 lines)
Prose, plays and mixed genres (I piece per writer, of not more than 5000 words)
Accepted entries will be translated into either Spanish or English, thus we will be publishing two books for this volume, one in Spanish and the other in English. These books will be published by two different publishers, the English volume by an African publisher (preferable), and the Spanish volume by a Spanish Latin American publisher (preferable)
Work must be sent in only one attached document, also include your contact details in this document, i.e., Postal address, Tel no, Email address and a bio note of not more than 100 words.
Please sent your entries to both, Tendai R. Mwanaka at mwanaka13@gmail.com and Ricardo Felix Rodriguez at felixricardo246@gmail.com
Closing date for entries is 29 February 2016
We will not be offering contributors free copies due to financial constraints but contributors will benefit immensely through promotion of their work into new markets
Please adhere to submission guidelines, failure of which we will discard your entries without reading them.

Monday, November 9, 2015

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Finding a Way Home

my third book this year is just out...a novel of interlinked stories
around the theme of home, FINDING A WAY HOME, more about it is here



http://www.langaa-rpcig.net/Finding-a-Way-Home.html




Monday, May 4, 2015

Carcinogenic Poetry: Tendai R. Mwanaka - Two Poems

Carcinogenic Poetry: Tendai R. Mwanaka - Two Poems: The War I have decided to leave this city of war. The war has gone out of            control. You never know who belongs to whom,       ...

Wednesday, January 7, 2015

PLAN B



PLAN B
             “There is a plan B to the world cup”, Uncle Victor says.
             “Its FIFA soccer politics”, my brother says
             “It’s because of Zimbabwe’s political situation”, I say
             “Guys, the world cup is good business for everyone”, Auntie Florence, Uncle Victor’s wife, says
             It is a year away from the world cup, and the vuvuzelas are being blown into the air to distraction. Some destitute man of our street has made it his plan B, teaching enthusiasts how to blow a vuvuzelas. There is always a plan B to everything in life. I can’t run away from home, from the noise, for I have no plan B against these vuvuzelas.
             And, in most cases it becomes THE PLAN, I am thinking, I am on my way back from the town centre; one and half kilometer sweet walk to home.
             “Hello Bhudi, there is a job in this white man’s place”.
             “Is it, I am not really looking for a job”, I am always scared of strangers thinking they know what I needed, wanted at that moment of contact. But he persisted
             “He is distributing world cup soccer T-shirts to kids at a preschool day care. So, this white man needs general hands to help him, and he is paying a hundred bucks.”
             I could do with a hundred bucks, I thought.
I needed a plan B to my depleting cash in my pocket, but I tried to refuse. It’s not safe in the suburb, anymore, especially with the hive of activity around the world cup. Everyone is looking for a quick bug, but eventually, I agree. This guy who has approached me has also approached another guy who has been walking behind me, all the way from the city centre. I choose to build faith in this safety in numbers.
             “The white man wants us to declare everything that we have before we enter into his property, so what do you have, guys.”
             The other guy who was walking behind me says, “I have a cell and a hundred Rands.” He gives these to our benefactor.
             “I have 1500 Rands, a cell and these groceries”. Our benefactor says, “Give me the money and cell.”
             “The groceries are not a problem”. He says as he takes my money and cell.
             He leaves us waiting on the front gate of this property, and goes to the side gate, which is in another street. We wait for 3 minutes. It is like an eternity, the weight of an event.
             The original plan doesn’t always happen, because it is always too ambitious. It strikes me as I run to the other street to check what was taking this guy so long. The street is a clear black of the tarred surface. There is no gate to the property. Blood is exploding in my head as anger surges. I go back to check on the other guy, the guy is nowhere to be found. There is a speeding car in the next street. I fold down in the lawns of this property.
              My uncle is not happy about this, for I have lost him 1500 bucks, but he accepts my explanations. After all, I was plan B. Auntie Florence was away who would do these accounts payments.
             But, of course, the world cup was on-going in South Africa, which was the plan A.
             Plan B.
             “There is no plan B”, Stepp Blatter refuted what he had blurted out.

Saturday, October 11, 2014

GUDO GURU PETAMUSWE



Gudo guru petamuswe

Pamakasvika sekuru takapemberera tikaita mabiko
Dzedu nyemwero nzeve nekunzva. Tikati havano
Sekuru vedu vauya nemanyautsamukanwa. Tikati
Sekuru vauya nerusununguko. Vauya
Kuzosimudzira vazukuru. Takaunganira sekuru
Kuti vatiudze nyaya dzinovakamusha. Nyaya dze-
Pasichigare nengano. Nyaya dzerudo kuti isu
Vazukuru tiwanewo. Nyaya dze-
Kuti tese tisimukirewo tiite savo sekuru
Sekuru vakatimbundira neavomaoko mahombe. Isu ndoku-
Tambarara tikati tadiwa nasekuru. Tirizvedu
Pakati pemafaro sekuru ndokutanga
Kutisvina sehembe nyoro. Kuti tichifema
tatadza. Tichiridzamhere ndopatoona
shavi rasekuru regudo kutipfacha
kusvika. Nechingu vachidiki homwe dzevazukuru dzose
dzazunguzwa ndokupera. Inga sekuru votiita
makwayi ivo vavegava. Sekuru vaitanyoka yapinda
muchikwere chine huku. Sekuru
votiangosimudza musoro ruoko pahuro. Abvunza mubvunzo
banga pamoyo. Aonesesa maziso
tuchu hanzi waonazvisizvako. Achema
nekurwadziva hanzi yatove mhandu. Avadenha
vodzorerwa kwamusikavanhu. Zvino tavekuona kuti sekuru
vakwegura vakabatauroyi. Sekuru vedu wakachekerwa
nyora dzekuba. Iwo moyo wavo
vakaora nechemukati. Kuora semuti wapfukutwa
moyo. Ivo mahobi avo sekuru gudo
akahwandisa umhondi.  Maziso avo anopenya rufu neutsinye
Kuita utsinye hwenyoka inoruma chaisingadye
Kuita hwenda inoruma akaitakura. Kuzofarisa
Senhunzi yaone ndove. Idzo nhafu
Dzavagudo dzekutotemerwanyora. Weduwe
Vedu sekuru umbimbindoga ndehwejongwe. Jongwe
Rinoda kurira rega muchikwere
Maoko avo akazara ropa revazukuru
Iri ndiro riye shavi reruokorurefu. Havaone kuti
vakwegura. Maziso adzoka mumahobi avo
Idzo njere dzapwa setsime muchirimo. Sekuru vedu
Havazivi kuti vanengegudo. Parinokwira
Mumuti gotsi rinengerakashama kumhandu inemuseve
Havaone manyekenyeke emoto arikuuya
Ava ndivo sekuru vaye vatakagamuchira nemaoko ese
Imi sekuru kani. Akurumanzveve
ndewako. Iyi iyambiro kubva kuvazukuru
Chisingaperi chinoshura. Yenyu
Nhambemutambe regai ichanaka. Chiregai
Zvekutamba nedhaka pasina mvura. Vane
Ruzivo vakavayambira vakati. Gudo guru peta
Muswe pwere dzigokuremekedza.

Written by. David W Mwanaka. 2012

Old Baboon, fold your tail.

When grandfather arrived we rejoiced and celebrated
With our smiles ears and listening. We said here is-
Our grandfather who has come with delicious foods. We said
Grandfather has come with our freedoms. He has come to
Uplift his grandchildren. We surrounded grandfather
So he told us stories to build up families. Stories from
Long ago and of fables. Stories of love so that us
The grandchildren, we would find love. Stories of
Success so that we could succeed like grandfather
Grandfather embraced us in his huge hands. We became
Complacent saying, grandfather loves us. When, in the
Middle of this happiness, grandfather started to
Squeeze us like wet clothing. Such that, to breath,
We couldn’t. When we mourned loudly, we discovered the
Baboon’s spirit of our grandfather was to crash us before
We had arrived. In no time our pockets were turned inside-
Outside, and emptied. It seems grandfather has made us into
Sheep. He was the wilddog. He has become a snake in
The hen’s shelter, with the chicken inside. Grandfather
Killed everyone who raised his head. Ask a question?
And you are knifed at the heart. See too much? Eyes are
Gorged, for you saw what was not yours to see. Cry
From the pain? You are an enemy. Provoke him? And you are
Send back to the creator. We now see that grandfather
Has witchcraft in ageing. In our grandfather, it is cut
Into his skin the mark of corruption. His heart is
Decaying in the insides. Decaying like the tree, from
The insides. His deep forehead is like the baboon’s,
Hiding cruelty. In his eyes shines death and cruelty.
Like the snake’s cruelty, biting what it doesn’t eat.
Like the lice that bites its host. He is too excited
Like a fly that has found a mound of cow dung. His greedy is
Like the baboon’s, a mark cut into the skin. My, oh, my
Grandfather’s  dictatorship, is like a cock’s. The cock
That wants to hear, only its crows in the hen’s shelter
His hands are full of the blood of his grandchildren
This is the spirit of huge hands. He doesn’t realize he
Is old. Eyes have shriveled into his deep forehead.
His brain has dried, like a winter’s pool. Grandfather
Doesn’t realize he is like a baboon. When it climbs
Into the trees, its back is exposed to the enemies’ arrows
He doesn’t see the ferocious flames of the fire coming
This is the grandfather we received with open arms
Grandfather, please! Anyone who advises you is your
Friend. This is the warning from your grandchildren.
Anything that doesn’t end is sacrilegious. Your
Delicious food; let it go, whilst it is still tasty. Don’t
Play with soft clay where there is no water. Those with
Wisdom have warned you, saying. Old baboon fold your
Tail, so that little children would respect you.

Translated by Tendai R Mwanaka