poetry reading

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

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,       ...

Zimbabwe: The Urgency of Now - Langaa Research and Publishing Common Initiative Group

Zimbabwe: The Urgency of Now - Langaa Research and Publishing Common Initiative Group

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.

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

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