In the midst of the skyscraper jungle
Harbouring the human flora and fauna,
Of this rainbow nation,
The well in which all Africa quenches their thirsty,
Lies the one whom I love,
The one whom I need,
The one whom I adore,
The one whom I cherish.
Kelebokgile! My cyberspace lover.
Separated over a distance of a thousand kilometers,
Yet kept in touch through the click of a mouse,
Through sms
Through phone calls.
Do you recall the time when we first fell in love beautiful one?
My cellphone battery fell flat as we spoke and texted endlessly,
I walked all the way home when my bus fare was squandered in the internet café,
All was worth the expense,
After all love is like marijuana, it drives its victims into lunacy.
All my inboxes are brimming with your messages
Your e-mails surpass junk mail
Your text messages exhausted all the memory space in my phone
If the world could read all these
Love will earn a new name.
All your messages refreshed my spirit,
Rekindled my hopes,
Rejuvenated my energy
Renewed my inner being, and
Revived my life
I basked in your splendor,
Drowned in the deep end of the pool of your love,
Overwhelmed by your domination despite the distance.
I spoke to myself in broad daylight
Laughed by myself in solitude
And smiled in my dreams
Only love can turn the heart of a man topsy turvy.
I waited patiently for the day when we were to meet,
To hold you in my arms
To walk with you in the rain
To count the stars for you in the night
To kiss away all the pain of past disappointment
To make to love to you till dawn.
Alas, the day never came
The woman who stole my heart disappeared instantaneously
Like fire sparks in an African winter night
Like darkness at the appearance of light
Leaving me stunned like a champion losing to an amateur.
I am shocked by your disappearance
Too shocked to utter a word
Silent!
Bemused!
Traumatized!
Taken aback!
Why?
Why my sweetness?
Why my love?
Whence gone thou love my cherry?
Your love as sweet as the sun in winter
Your love as beautiful as your face on Facebook
Facebook that gave birth to our love
Facebook that brought two distant souls into a cyber love nest
You babe?
You who claimed to be older than your age
You who claimed men know not what they need in life
You who promised never to desert me
Saying I am the Prince succeeding the toads?
Has Johannesburg ingested you up in its myriad of social creeks and crevices?
Or maybe elevated you high up in the rain forest of its skyscrapers?
Whence you no longer feel the need of love?
Whence you no longer love as you used to?
Johannesburg can be nice,
Johannesburg can be nasty,
Johannesburg is like the internet
You can get anything you need
I found love in Johannesburg,
Using the internet,
I enjoyed love
Tucked far away in the City of Gold
I do read your e-mails, yours sms’s
And they still sound sweet,
As sweet as the very first time I read them
They have proved a good source of comfort
I still love my dear
I still care
I still need your love babe
When you read this ode my love
When you reflect, and
When you think about this
Always know, and always put it in your mind,
The megabyte space in my heart is for you.
Takawira Dururu Ringisai
26.10.09 6-10pm
Hatley Court
© 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
anthology complete
hello guys
i have finally managed to complete my second anthology entitled "The Whirlwind and other stories." am going through the editing process and then will have to face the rigorous task of seeking for a publisher. i did a survey of publishers at the just ended Zimbabwe Book Fair and most said they are interested in stuff with prospects of becoming a setbook, or something that is current. well, i say in that case my book will face a problem in getting a publisher, but i won't give up till i see it in print. enjoy the precerpts below.
a swim across river Tshangani
I listened to Teacher Mafu’s narration to my father with intent. His voice sounded melodic and his story exceptionally heroic. My father maintained a stunned silence, permeated by sporadic interruptions, murmurs of amazement and rhetoric incredulity, as his friend excitedly related his awesome feat across the famous river Tshangani. None of what he said missed my ears as I sat cautiously behind the door, while the respected mentor rumbled on about his seemingly inimitable escapade.
“So the river currents washed me all the way from the rock down to the confluence, but I did not drown because I survived on the oxygen stored in my plastic covering. At the plains the river had lost most of its power, therefore I managed to swim with ease to the other side.”
And so it was, that having been impressed by Teacher Mafu’s achievement, I decided to embark on the same experience, so as to boast to my peers about my incredible exploits, as our teacher had done to my father.
theft in 1955
As soon as all the boys were sure they were safe in the small area that served as the secret edale under short crowded bushes, Born Lokitshi then began explaining his purpose.
“Bafana I do believe all of you have balls of steel”, he said sounding as one seeking an assurance than an answer.
The wide eyed anxious boys gave him impatient murmurs of assurance, obviously wanting their town hero to hit the nail on the head.
Their hero gave them a minute’s scan as if trying to locate a weakling, then proceeded with his talk after feeling assured that his colleagues were ‘amadoda sibili’.
“I am here to give you a taste of what town life is all about. Each time that I relate accounts of what takes place in town, you always argue that I am telling lies to impress you. Well, I’ll have to admit that at times I do lie to scare the daylights out of you especially that story about cars moving on the doorsteps in locations, that is not true.”
He paused to study the boys again, some of whom felt relieved to learn that scary story was a fallacy after all, as it had left them with nothing but a phobia for the bright lights. The majority however were irritated by this pause, feeling they had no time for any other issue but this new revelation.
Born Lokitshi resumed in his baritone attention capturing voice.
“Today you shall taste the pleasant pleasures synonymous with the town dwellers,” with the boys expecting more words, Born Lokitshi simply pulled out a black plastic from under his shirt and threw it on the ground.
The boys almost leapt away in fear, scared by this strange looking thing, but remained squatting in their positions peering anxiously at the strange pack that contained their promised pleasure.
The town hero once again scanned his fans, before proceeding to open the pack, which revealed a thick wad of five pound notes.
The apprehension and fright that hit the boys in the woods made them feel naked and exposed. They were too shaken to ask any questions.
Nkosana was the first to break the subsequent silence.
“What is it?” his voice had a suppressed tremble.
“What is it?”Born Lokitshi repeated with plain dismay. “This is money,” he pronounced each word slowly but powerfully.
the strange visitor
Her laughter stopped immediately, interrupted by this accusation.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Exactly what my words say,” he sounded too serious for a joke, his face now taking a famous contortion.
“But how could you say that? Ask my family there, they will tell you how much beer I had reserved for you.”
“Why then did you call all those people to kill me if you are such a nice friend as you claim to be?”
The fear that hit her at hearing that accusation was as powerful as a surge of high voltage electricity. All her merry melted like a piece of ice thrown in a cup of hot water. So this is what he has been attempting to put across all along? What cheeky! Hard as it was to believe, it was true. She just couldn’t take it that the very snake that sent her scurrying out of the hut was standing before her right now, accusing her of inhospitality.
She had heard of such weird stories before, but not at once did she ever phantom that she will have a brush with characters of such horror.
what they never told us from the war
The headman quickly jumped to his feet, ready for any confrontation of any sort.
Cde Kruchev raised his AK 47 and released the safety lock, and the old man pulled up the sleeve of his right hand holding the short axe.
As soon as the guerrilla cocked his weapon, the headman swiftly swung his right arm with great might towards Cde Kruchev. The axe struck the guerrilla’s forehead as the hail of bullets perforated the old man’s belly like a rotting plastic paper. The two men stood face to face, mouths agape and eyes wide in horror, before they fell on their knees, stayed like that for a few seconds, before hitting the ground with their faces at the same time. Their blood flowed meanderingly like water from leaking hosepipes, and confluenced at the hearth, forming a pool, as if accepting that despite their differences in life, in death they were together.
The sound of gunfire caught everyone by surprise, the headman’s family and the guerrillas lurking behind the rocks on the periphery of the village. The subsequent screams from the girls in the big hut brought everyone in the homestead rushing to the big hut.
the whirlwind
I could feel the roaring wind outside through the two small triangular openings on the northern and southern walls of the hut, which let in dust like the exhaust pipe of a tractor. All of a sudden the roof the roof began to creak and shake heavily as if some force were pulling it up, dropping pieces of grass all over the room. Then the thatched cone gave in to the pull of the wind and up it disappeared into the cloud of dust spiraling skywards. Dust poured into the hut like rainwater.
In the next moment the door slammed hard against the left wall as if it was never locked and the wind rushed in like water overpowering a dam wall.
By now I was already cowering under my grandfather Khulu’s chair that seemed unmoved by the unnatural proceedings taking place, clutching its legs as if they were planted on that spot, my face buried in the ground in fear of the wind and dust.
What followed next has never been related to anyone except the one reading this account, for no one would have believed me, what with everyone calling me usomangase, for always daydreaming, and what with this event ending up so consequential. But it is true and must be believed.
shame upon the family
“When I wholeheartedly and innocently asked if we were now having road blocks like what they do in towns, the boys gazed at me as if they were looking at a snake. Their eyes spoke a hatred so astounding.
“ ‘What is wrong bafana bami?’ I asked sensing danger,
“The two boys looked at each other for a moment before returning their hateful gazes at me.
“ ‘Hey boys, will you let me pass?’ I demanded now realizing, this was no child play. It was the eldest who spoke first.
“Heyi wena mdala, do you know that you brought shame upon our family?”
‘What shame are you talking about?’
‘What shame are we talking about? Are you not the one who beat our father to a pulp in front of the whole village? Are you not the one who earned us a name of losers in Chief Siduna’s kingdom?’ It was the younger boy.
I couldn’t believe my ears. What the hell was happening here?
‘When was that?’ I asked with all ignorance.
‘Look at him. He isn’t even ashamed of himself, an old man like him.’ I will never forget the look of scorn on the eldest boy’s face as he repeated my question in an inaudible murmur. A tirade of questions followed.
‘Wasn’t it you who fought my father on your way from a beer drink when we were little boys?’
‘Didn’t you continue kicking our father as he lay prostrate on the ground?’
‘You were convinced we were young and therefore were not watching?’
‘You thought we would forget with time?’
‘I’m sorry m’dala, we had to live with the shame, and we can’t bear it anymore.’”
i killed my son
The next thing that happened took everyone by surprise. Garikai suddenly burst into an uncontrollable spasm of coughs, with thick saliva drooling from his mouth. The group of soldiers standing watch moved, but the one holding him beckoned them with a hand to stay put while pushing him in the line of smoke. As the cough spasms continued, Garikai of all of a sudden rose up with force to a sitting position. He coughed further with some force before opening his eyes wide, scanning the people around him.
Once again the other soldiers moved to assist him, but stopped in their tracks when he started speaking.
“I hope you have learnt a lesson Mai Garikai, an old woman like you ought to know what discipline of the mouth is all about,” the voice was very small like a child’s.
“You don’t just go around boasting about your son’s pension as if it’s your money. Now that we have taken all the money what are you going to do? Watch out next time. I’m gone.”
He coughed again before proceeding, this time in a very different voice, childish but very hoarse.
“What a cheeky woman you are Mai Garikai. You had the temerity to spend the whole day at the borehole, telling everyone who bothered to listen how your son was going to spend his pension. And to think you had to ask everyone whom you told to keep it as a secret. A secret? Why not keep that information to yourself if it’s a secret? Now watch what you have done to your son old woman? Learn to discipline yourself. I’m gone too.”
VaBudya
Positioning his warriors at the rear end of the column, Makate took the lead and commenced the retreat from the seething invaders. It was a painful experience to abandon his own home, the land that was his inheritance, fleeing a group of failures who had no link whatsoever with his heritage.
Meanwhile when VaBudya finally reached VaMakate’s kingdom drooling with vitriol, the sight of the tired smoking flames told a story of a thrown-in towel and a people full of pride, that preferred death to capitulation. That VaBudya had admitted defeat without a fight confirmed their strength had been crushed by Makate’s wife’s desertion. That the king employed a scorched earth policy in retaliation demonstrated his arrogance and a refusal to swallow his own pride.
Realizing there was no livestock or grain left, the very source of this antagonism, VaBudya decided to chase their enemies to the end, since it was clear VaMakate was a snake without a tail.
When they eventually caught up with their enemies, they were disappearing right on the summit of a mountain deep in the forest.
King Makate was holding a hoe in his right hand and facing his enemies battling the height of the mountain to reach their prey. This is the hoe he had used to strike and open the mountain’s fontanelle in which his people were disappearing like sand in a hole. People and livestock were all hurriedly infiltrating the ground as if the sky was about to crumble upon the earth.
i have finally managed to complete my second anthology entitled "The Whirlwind and other stories." am going through the editing process and then will have to face the rigorous task of seeking for a publisher. i did a survey of publishers at the just ended Zimbabwe Book Fair and most said they are interested in stuff with prospects of becoming a setbook, or something that is current. well, i say in that case my book will face a problem in getting a publisher, but i won't give up till i see it in print. enjoy the precerpts below.
a swim across river Tshangani
I listened to Teacher Mafu’s narration to my father with intent. His voice sounded melodic and his story exceptionally heroic. My father maintained a stunned silence, permeated by sporadic interruptions, murmurs of amazement and rhetoric incredulity, as his friend excitedly related his awesome feat across the famous river Tshangani. None of what he said missed my ears as I sat cautiously behind the door, while the respected mentor rumbled on about his seemingly inimitable escapade.
“So the river currents washed me all the way from the rock down to the confluence, but I did not drown because I survived on the oxygen stored in my plastic covering. At the plains the river had lost most of its power, therefore I managed to swim with ease to the other side.”
And so it was, that having been impressed by Teacher Mafu’s achievement, I decided to embark on the same experience, so as to boast to my peers about my incredible exploits, as our teacher had done to my father.
theft in 1955
As soon as all the boys were sure they were safe in the small area that served as the secret edale under short crowded bushes, Born Lokitshi then began explaining his purpose.
“Bafana I do believe all of you have balls of steel”, he said sounding as one seeking an assurance than an answer.
The wide eyed anxious boys gave him impatient murmurs of assurance, obviously wanting their town hero to hit the nail on the head.
Their hero gave them a minute’s scan as if trying to locate a weakling, then proceeded with his talk after feeling assured that his colleagues were ‘amadoda sibili’.
“I am here to give you a taste of what town life is all about. Each time that I relate accounts of what takes place in town, you always argue that I am telling lies to impress you. Well, I’ll have to admit that at times I do lie to scare the daylights out of you especially that story about cars moving on the doorsteps in locations, that is not true.”
He paused to study the boys again, some of whom felt relieved to learn that scary story was a fallacy after all, as it had left them with nothing but a phobia for the bright lights. The majority however were irritated by this pause, feeling they had no time for any other issue but this new revelation.
Born Lokitshi resumed in his baritone attention capturing voice.
“Today you shall taste the pleasant pleasures synonymous with the town dwellers,” with the boys expecting more words, Born Lokitshi simply pulled out a black plastic from under his shirt and threw it on the ground.
The boys almost leapt away in fear, scared by this strange looking thing, but remained squatting in their positions peering anxiously at the strange pack that contained their promised pleasure.
The town hero once again scanned his fans, before proceeding to open the pack, which revealed a thick wad of five pound notes.
The apprehension and fright that hit the boys in the woods made them feel naked and exposed. They were too shaken to ask any questions.
Nkosana was the first to break the subsequent silence.
“What is it?” his voice had a suppressed tremble.
“What is it?”Born Lokitshi repeated with plain dismay. “This is money,” he pronounced each word slowly but powerfully.
the strange visitor
Her laughter stopped immediately, interrupted by this accusation.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Exactly what my words say,” he sounded too serious for a joke, his face now taking a famous contortion.
“But how could you say that? Ask my family there, they will tell you how much beer I had reserved for you.”
“Why then did you call all those people to kill me if you are such a nice friend as you claim to be?”
The fear that hit her at hearing that accusation was as powerful as a surge of high voltage electricity. All her merry melted like a piece of ice thrown in a cup of hot water. So this is what he has been attempting to put across all along? What cheeky! Hard as it was to believe, it was true. She just couldn’t take it that the very snake that sent her scurrying out of the hut was standing before her right now, accusing her of inhospitality.
She had heard of such weird stories before, but not at once did she ever phantom that she will have a brush with characters of such horror.
what they never told us from the war
The headman quickly jumped to his feet, ready for any confrontation of any sort.
Cde Kruchev raised his AK 47 and released the safety lock, and the old man pulled up the sleeve of his right hand holding the short axe.
As soon as the guerrilla cocked his weapon, the headman swiftly swung his right arm with great might towards Cde Kruchev. The axe struck the guerrilla’s forehead as the hail of bullets perforated the old man’s belly like a rotting plastic paper. The two men stood face to face, mouths agape and eyes wide in horror, before they fell on their knees, stayed like that for a few seconds, before hitting the ground with their faces at the same time. Their blood flowed meanderingly like water from leaking hosepipes, and confluenced at the hearth, forming a pool, as if accepting that despite their differences in life, in death they were together.
The sound of gunfire caught everyone by surprise, the headman’s family and the guerrillas lurking behind the rocks on the periphery of the village. The subsequent screams from the girls in the big hut brought everyone in the homestead rushing to the big hut.
the whirlwind
I could feel the roaring wind outside through the two small triangular openings on the northern and southern walls of the hut, which let in dust like the exhaust pipe of a tractor. All of a sudden the roof the roof began to creak and shake heavily as if some force were pulling it up, dropping pieces of grass all over the room. Then the thatched cone gave in to the pull of the wind and up it disappeared into the cloud of dust spiraling skywards. Dust poured into the hut like rainwater.
In the next moment the door slammed hard against the left wall as if it was never locked and the wind rushed in like water overpowering a dam wall.
By now I was already cowering under my grandfather Khulu’s chair that seemed unmoved by the unnatural proceedings taking place, clutching its legs as if they were planted on that spot, my face buried in the ground in fear of the wind and dust.
What followed next has never been related to anyone except the one reading this account, for no one would have believed me, what with everyone calling me usomangase, for always daydreaming, and what with this event ending up so consequential. But it is true and must be believed.
shame upon the family
“When I wholeheartedly and innocently asked if we were now having road blocks like what they do in towns, the boys gazed at me as if they were looking at a snake. Their eyes spoke a hatred so astounding.
“ ‘What is wrong bafana bami?’ I asked sensing danger,
“The two boys looked at each other for a moment before returning their hateful gazes at me.
“ ‘Hey boys, will you let me pass?’ I demanded now realizing, this was no child play. It was the eldest who spoke first.
“Heyi wena mdala, do you know that you brought shame upon our family?”
‘What shame are you talking about?’
‘What shame are we talking about? Are you not the one who beat our father to a pulp in front of the whole village? Are you not the one who earned us a name of losers in Chief Siduna’s kingdom?’ It was the younger boy.
I couldn’t believe my ears. What the hell was happening here?
‘When was that?’ I asked with all ignorance.
‘Look at him. He isn’t even ashamed of himself, an old man like him.’ I will never forget the look of scorn on the eldest boy’s face as he repeated my question in an inaudible murmur. A tirade of questions followed.
‘Wasn’t it you who fought my father on your way from a beer drink when we were little boys?’
‘Didn’t you continue kicking our father as he lay prostrate on the ground?’
‘You were convinced we were young and therefore were not watching?’
‘You thought we would forget with time?’
‘I’m sorry m’dala, we had to live with the shame, and we can’t bear it anymore.’”
i killed my son
The next thing that happened took everyone by surprise. Garikai suddenly burst into an uncontrollable spasm of coughs, with thick saliva drooling from his mouth. The group of soldiers standing watch moved, but the one holding him beckoned them with a hand to stay put while pushing him in the line of smoke. As the cough spasms continued, Garikai of all of a sudden rose up with force to a sitting position. He coughed further with some force before opening his eyes wide, scanning the people around him.
Once again the other soldiers moved to assist him, but stopped in their tracks when he started speaking.
“I hope you have learnt a lesson Mai Garikai, an old woman like you ought to know what discipline of the mouth is all about,” the voice was very small like a child’s.
“You don’t just go around boasting about your son’s pension as if it’s your money. Now that we have taken all the money what are you going to do? Watch out next time. I’m gone.”
He coughed again before proceeding, this time in a very different voice, childish but very hoarse.
“What a cheeky woman you are Mai Garikai. You had the temerity to spend the whole day at the borehole, telling everyone who bothered to listen how your son was going to spend his pension. And to think you had to ask everyone whom you told to keep it as a secret. A secret? Why not keep that information to yourself if it’s a secret? Now watch what you have done to your son old woman? Learn to discipline yourself. I’m gone too.”
VaBudya
Positioning his warriors at the rear end of the column, Makate took the lead and commenced the retreat from the seething invaders. It was a painful experience to abandon his own home, the land that was his inheritance, fleeing a group of failures who had no link whatsoever with his heritage.
Meanwhile when VaBudya finally reached VaMakate’s kingdom drooling with vitriol, the sight of the tired smoking flames told a story of a thrown-in towel and a people full of pride, that preferred death to capitulation. That VaBudya had admitted defeat without a fight confirmed their strength had been crushed by Makate’s wife’s desertion. That the king employed a scorched earth policy in retaliation demonstrated his arrogance and a refusal to swallow his own pride.
Realizing there was no livestock or grain left, the very source of this antagonism, VaBudya decided to chase their enemies to the end, since it was clear VaMakate was a snake without a tail.
When they eventually caught up with their enemies, they were disappearing right on the summit of a mountain deep in the forest.
King Makate was holding a hoe in his right hand and facing his enemies battling the height of the mountain to reach their prey. This is the hoe he had used to strike and open the mountain’s fontanelle in which his people were disappearing like sand in a hole. People and livestock were all hurriedly infiltrating the ground as if the sky was about to crumble upon the earth.
Friday, April 17, 2009
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