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Pages: 200
ISBN: 0-86922-348-8
IT was known among the povo that freedom fighters didn’t want to hear of people who were practicing witchcraft during the struggle.
That war brought independence to Zimbabwe from British colonial rule on April 18, 1980 after an estimated 50 000 people had lost their lives.
This part of the history of the country should have come to the minds of the people who saw a woman who was naked at night in Harare during the month of June. The young woman told the people how she had fallen off the “aeroplane” that had brought her and her companions from the eastern Mudzi District on the border with the Mozambique.
The woman would become restless when the people who had seen her asked what she and her companions had come to do in the capital. Nyamapanda border post is in Mudzi, about 300km from Harare.
A young person at the home where this woman was found told the family of how she had seen a “face” standing at the window and had gone back to sleep in fear of what looked like a mask.
This woman who had no clothes was found at a house in Cranborne Park in the early hours of the morning. A tenant was about to leave for work when a noise that was coming from the other side of the house disturbed him.
When he went to find out the cause of the noise, he came face to face with the naked woman. The woman would not talk to him when he asked her what she wanted. He became suspicious when she went on behaving as though she had lost something.
The tenant woke up the landlord to see the miracle that he had seen. The news of her presence woke up all the people who stayed at this house in Munro Road next to One Commando Barracks.
All of the people of this house were scandalised when they saw this young woman who was trying the best that she could to cover herself up with her bare hands. At this house there is a vicious dog which scares the neighbours even during daytime. Nobody had heard that bulldog barking during the course of the night.
What also surprised the people of this house was that when the master opened the door to get out, the bulldog ran into the house with its tail between its legs. The mothers covered the woman with a blanket. And the landlord launched into the gruesome task of asking her who she was, where had come from and what she wanted.
The woman, who as extremely worried and fidgeting all the time, answered the landlord: “We were three of us. We had come from Mudzi during the night flying on our plane (tswanda). My companions left me behind where I had fallen off at the bridge.”
The landlord telephoned Braeside Police Station and told the officers who were on night duty how they had found a woman who was naked lurking about in their yard.
The officers told the landlord to bring the woman to the charge office. He took her there in his car. The officers spoke to her and established that she meant no harm.
“What had happened to her?” asked the scandalised people in terrified whispers.
“This woman is not of sound mind,” the police said to them. “She must have lost her way.”
The drama of the night came to an end when the police allowed the woman to walk away in the confused state that she was in.
That incident brought to mind what was done to witches, wizards, spies, sell-outs and undesirable elements – the whole lot of them – during the struggle, which ended more than 30 years ago. The characters in Ngou Dzouswa talk candidly about what they saw happening in the theatre of war. Aaron Chiundura Moyo pays tribute to women who stood up to their men when they lost direction.
“I want you to leave home. I don’t like soldiers to bother you. You can find another job as a nurse here. If you can’t, I’ll find you a better one. My parents can come also, if they want.
“Your parents and I will be in serious trouble if we do that. The people already take you for a sell-out.”
“I’m giving magandanga what they want because of you and my parents. From now I won’t bother about you. Come and stay with me.”
“You must be joking,” says Kudzai, laughing. “You can’t take your parents from the war. They like it very much.
“If you want to annoy them, talk to them about coming to stay in town. The war has got into their blood so much that they no longer know the difference between war and peace.”
“You people are fooling each other,” says Andrew. “You mean to tell me that you don’t want to run away from war?”
“Never! If I’m to die I’ll die with others. The povo who are dying day and night weren’t meant to die.”
“Oh well,” says Andrew, shrugging his shoulders, “we aren’t fighting. That’s your look out if you want to stay there.
“But we see others running away everyday. All of us want the country to be free. One thing worries me, though. I no longer trust you. Is it because I refuse to run away from your parents?
“You no longer behave like the wife that I paid lobola for. You want to do what you want.
“When you come from home, you don’t want to discuss serous issues with me. You’re keen to go back. Are you staying for magandanga or for Andrew Mukombachuru?
“I don’t like what you’re saying, Andrew.
“This war didn’t come for you alone. If you aren’t in the village, the war won’t end. Do you think that you can fire a gun, you?
“You want to fail to talk, Andrew. I thought you were playing when you were spewing your silly jokes. What’s bothering you, anyway?
“There are many people – you know it – who were giving themselves air about this war. They died. Am I lying, Kudzai?
“I didn’t say that the war came for me alone. I’m not the only one who is cooking or helping vakomana. All the povo are doing this, Andrew.
“Is that why I paid lobola for you?
“Andrew, I’m staying at the home of your parents, not mine. Your parents are old. I do everything for them when I’ve done other work. You should thank children of other people when they do good things for you.”
She wants to cry.
“I run that home alone. All your brothers crossed the border to Moza. There’s no young person who is left at home.”
“Don’t talk rubbish. You want to run away from the case that I’m asking you about, don’t you? Those who are clever don’t have woes.”
“Not at all, Andrew. I’m not running away from anything. You should look at this issue from both sides. How would I leave your home? Where would I say I would be going? And for what reason?
“Only the person who paid lobola for you can ask you that.”
“Andrew, we are living in the days of war. We should use our brain when we do things. But . . . don’t you see that it’s everybody’s duty to liberate this, our country?”
Andrew laughs till his ribs hurt him. Each time he looks at Kudzai he can’t help laughing.
“You . . . where you are . . . you fancy that you can fight war and liberate this country! Ha ha ha! Don’t make me laugh.
“The cooking I’m doing is fighting . . . But what’s bothering you? When time comes for me to come and stay with you, you’ll see me coming. I won’t need anybody to tell me. I staying at home for your family, not mine.
“I fear for you. I know there’s danger staying out there . . .
“Don’t fear for me, Andrew. I enjoy staying there. War is war. When nothing has happened to you yet, that’s it.
“There’s nothing you can do about it, if you’re caught in the crossfire,” she coughs. “Have you bought the order for vakomana,”Andrew scowls.
“I bought them. But don’t involve me should things go wrong. They will catch you at the road-block. Go and give those lovers of yours the things that I bought. I’ll say I don’t them if you’re caught. By the way, when are you going back?
“I’m back going now. I had come to collect medicine with others. They should be waiting for me at the market. We said that we’d meet there.”
Kudzai goes to the village. Andrew goes to work. She doesn’t stay long before she comes back to town with more orders from vakomana. Andrew is exasperated.
“Tell me something. You mean to tell me that you, the wife for whom I paid lobola, are the messenger for magandanga? You’ve been coming with letters from . . .
“Don’t say magandanga . . .
“What should I say?
“You should say letters from freedom fighters or guerrillas.” Kudzai is angry. “There’s a world of difference between guerrilla and gandanga, Andrew. I expect you to know this. Ask me if you don’t.”
“Ah, Kudzai! Get along with you. You can give magandanga the names that you like. The sins that Satan commits won’t be whitewashed by giving him a new name. Satan will always be Satan.”
Andrew starts shouting.
“I wouldn’t have wasted my lobola if I had known that your head is full of water. A nurse is expected to have some semblance of intelligence. You’re being cheated. You think that magandanga don’t die? The soldiers are killing them day and night.
“They are cowards, sending defenceless povo like you to come and get their things. If they had guts, they would come themselves . . . I want you to burn all the letters from magandanga now. And make no mistake about it.
“A-a-h! You’re joking, Andrew. You must be joking. I won’t burn a single one of them. I’ll make sure that I pass them to the people that vakomana sent me to give.
“I won’t burn a single one of them. I don’t know what has started going on in this house. You don’t sound like the Andrew Mukombachuru that I married. Perhaps I’m talking to your relative who looks like you.
“I’m fed up with those letters from magandanga that you keep bringing to my house. I want to tell you that this: I no longer have anything to do with your magandanga. I’m finished with them.
“My money that I gave them to squander was that. Should you come with those letters again . . . I’ll go to jail when I’ve hacked you head off with a machete. Down with everything that magandanga stand for.
“Down with magandanga and their stupid ideas. It’s time up to look elsewhere. I’ve joined the real party that has lots of money. I want you to come and work for us.”
Kudzai cast a contemptuous glance at Andrew.
“Don’t speak those words. The people will suspect a lot about you, if they hear you. You wouldn’t come home.” She laughs. “You’ll die for us in broad daylight. Vakomana have nothing impossible for them.
“I don’t care. They can kill me, if they want. I know that you’ll be ululating and clapping your hands. That’s your job, vanamujibha. You do that to fools. If they play with me, I’ll finish them.”
Kudzai splits her sides with laughter.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Andrew. You’re dreaming. You should learn to value your life.”
Before she knows what’s happening, Andrew pulls a gun from his pockets and points it in her face.
“I’ll die fighting like a man, Kudzai. I’ll see what comes when it comes. What am I holding? I said: what is this?
“There are things to play with, Andrew,” she says calmly. “What do you think you’re doing?
“Tell your lovers that I said they can come and take me – if they dare . . . “
The master storyteller, Aaron Chiundura Moyo, is at his best in this fascinating thriller, Nguo Dzouswa.
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