Registered under the National Arts Council of Zimbabwe

30 November 2012

Tribute to Walter Muparutsa (1941-2012)

An extraordinary actor, theatre director and playwright, the late Walter Lambert Dehwe Muparutsa  sharing lighter times with his granddaughters and grandson

Walter loved dreamers who are doers; this is how he came to build a community of young people who wanted to leave a mark on the face of Zimbabwean arts landscape. We went to him as a source of knowledge and inspiration. Whether one was a musician, poet, sculptor, actor or anything, Walter had a place in his heart for all of us. With WIN, he saw  a great opportunity for him to rekindle the fire that had become dormant following the closure of the Rhodesian Literature Bureau some years back. As a former editorial officer of the Literature Bureau, he knew WIN had come to the right place at the right time. No formalities were needed to launch a partnership that saw WIN being given accommodation at Global Arts office in the CBD in 2011. He goaded WIN to ensure that our mother languages, which he dearly loved, are not lost. There will always and forever be this deep desire inside of us to carry on with the work that Walter endorsed and saw as necessary in the development of our nation’s literature. Reading, writing, and publishing. We owe it to this man who loved people, loved artists; the man whose sense of humor healed a broken heart, put a smile on the dogfaced, and fed the hungry, the man who brought hope to the troubled dreams of various young Zimbabwean actors, producers, directors and writers. His legacy is unquestionable. Memories of the moments he shared with each of the Zimbabwean artists out there are numerous and we have but only these echoes to stick to and push us forward. May his soul rest in peace. (WIN)


Some guests posing with the bust

On November 27, 2012, artists, diplomats, government officials, representatives of various organizations, friends and relatives, gathered at the Theatre in the Park, Harare, to witness the official unveiling of the late veteran actor Walter Lambert Dehwe Muparutsa sculpture done in his honor.
Minister of Education, Sport, Art and Culture David Coltart, the National Arts Council of Zimbabwe chairperson Dr. Chitepo and the Muparutsa family were some of the respected guests who spoke on this occasion before Harare City Mayor Muchadeyi Masunda officially unveiled the Walter Muparutsa bust.
This was a hallmark occasion to honor the great artist that Walter was to his own society. Later, there was the performance of ‘Protest’, a play written by Czech protest artist, Vaclav Havel, produced by Daves Guzha who also features in it as an actor with Obrian Mudyiwenyama.
This event, emceed by Ray Mawerera, was organized by Rooftop Promotions, supported by the Embassy of the Czech Republic in Harare.

Art to art, the Walter Muparutsa statue


Daves Guzha (L) and Obrian Mudyiwenyama (R) in the play “Protest”

 (All photos courtesy of Tadiwa Muparutsa)

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With Love....

19 November 2012

WIN Newsletter, Issue No 61


 Renowned writer Virginia Phiri presenting her paper at the 2010 Writers' End of Year Get-Together, Harare

The year is coming to an end and what hope is there except that it will eventually bless us all. Yes, we will not stop creating from our ‘winning’ world and the same should happen to you. Don’t stop creating from your ‘winning’ world, although you may not see the fruits yet. We congratulate Rutendo Chabikwa for flying the country’s flag higher by winning the 2012 Golden Baobab Prize in the Rising Writer Category. Keep rising, we say! In the past few days, online media was awash with messages condemning gender based violence (GBV), and it is in solidarity with all progressive Zimbabweans that we dedicate our poetry section to those people, especially women, who have fallen victim to this kind of violence.
Meanwhile, we know how painful it is to announce that the 3rd Edition of our Writers’ End of Year Get-Together which was expected to take place in December has been postponed to next year due to forces beyond our control. Not all is lost though, just scroll downwards and enjoy the rest of the newsletter...keep rising!

By Beaven Tapureta

Rutendo Chabikwa

Eighteen year old Zimbabwean writer Rutendo Chabikwa is the winner of the coveted 2012 Golden Baobab Prize in the Rising Writer Category.
The other 2012 winners are Nigerian Joy Nwiyi in the Senior Category and Jenny Robson in the Junior Category for their stories “Something for Next Time” and “Wha-Zup Dude?” respectively.
In a brief chat with WIN, Canada-based Rutendo said she felt honoured and believed that this award will launch her to greater heights.
“I feel greatly honoured to win the award as I am hoping that it will become a stepping stone for me to continue sharing stories,” said Rutendo who could not hide her excitement on lifting her country’s flag higher.
Rutendo won the award for her short stories Letters from the City and A Healing Adventure. Her love for sharing stories motivates her although she says poetry is her first passion.
“I believe that stories are what bring a people together, they are what unite dreams and reality,” said the young writer who has so much quotable wisdom and hope for her country’s literature.
“I hope that more Zimbabwean authors will emerge, not just in the area of children fiction stories, but in any genre, as writing in our own context helps reaffirm our identity. I encourage young writers to continue writing, whether or not you hope for a big break, one day your story will mark the beginning of a turning point in someone's life, and what greater joy is there than that of knowing that your story has transformed a life.”
Born in 1994 in Harare, Rutendo is on scholarship at the United World Colleges at Lester B. Pearson College in British Columbia, Canada, where she is studying for an International Baccalaureate.
She becomes the third Zimbabwean writer to win the Golden Baobab Prize in a different category. The other previous Zimbabwean winners are Ivor W. Hartmann who scooped the prize in 2009 with his story “Mr Goop”, written for children between 12 -15 years, and Mirirai Moyo who won the award the following year (2010) with her story “Diki, The Little Earthworm” written for children between 8-11 years.
The Golden Baobab Prize is an African literary award whose goal is to inspire the creation of African children stories as well as literature for young adults that appeal to the whole world.
For more information about the Golden Baobab Prize, visit

Enjoy more works by Rutendo Chabikwa on her blog WORDS MEANT TO CREATE

WIN Staff Writer

Jungle Jim Magazine, an illustrated publication for African pulp fiction, based in Cape Town, South Africa, is in constant need for work by new and exciting African authors.
Jungle Jim is looking for short fiction (up to 4,500 words) but according to editor Jenna Bass, the magazine also publishes serials and novel extracts while accepting non-English stories with a translation.
Where possible, Jungle Jim will publish both versions, says Bass, who encouraged Zimbabwean young writers to grab the opportunity brought by this bi-monthly magazine.
Jungle Jim Magazine’s potential in producing stories of international appeal was confirmed when one of its exclusive stories “Hunter Emmanuel” by Constance Myburgh was shortlisted for the 2012 Caine Prize.
Launched in 2011 in South Africa, Jungle Jim magazine is distributed in both print and online and publishes “genre-based writing from all over Africa”. The magazine aims to spread narrative, imagination and concept-driven work by African writers throughout the continent and internationally.
For more information, go to


(The following short story won the Junior Writer Prize in the 2012 WIN/GAT Short Story Writing Competition)

David the Brave Young Man
By Panashe Mushambi (above), Nettleton Primary School, Harare

Once upon a time there was a King and a Queen who lived in a beautiful Kingdom. They were very greedy. They wanted all the riches in the Kingdom like gold, silver and jewelery. Everyone hated them because of their greediness. The King and Queen always thought about their riches.
“The gold, silver and jewellery are ours. Every piece  should be ours,” said the Queen.
 “Yes, yes we must own every piece of gold, silver and jewellery. All the riches in this Kingdom are going to be ours my dear wife,” said the King more greedily.
“Yes, it will be all ours. Ha, ha, ha,” they laughed.
One day they came up with a plan to take other people’s riches.
“My dear wife, I have come up with a big plan,” said the King.
 “What plan?” asked the Queen.
“Have you forgotten? Well, it’s about how we can take the riches away from the people. It is a good plan my wife,” answered the King.
“Oh, I almost forgot. Please tell me about the plan,” said the Queen impatiently.
“Okay, I think we should take all the riches from the poor first and if we don’t get enough riches we will go and take from the rich. We will take everything by force!” said the Queen greedily.
“By next week we will start taking all the riches,” shouted the King.
They told the guards to prepare for the following week. The guards were ready to take other people’s wealth and riches. Days passed slowly. The day arrived but people were not aware of anything.
“Guards, you must take all the riches by force if anyone refuses,” shouted the King.
The guards went to the village taking the villagers’ riches. They took from the poor. People were left with no money to feed their children or take them to school. Widows lost everything their husbands left for them. It was so painful and sorrowful that all the people who lost their riches wanted to kill the King and Queen.
There was a brave young man called David, he was so brave and was willing to die for his people. He wanted to stop the King from taking the people’s riches.
One day he went to the palace to try and stop the nonsense. He started shouting to the King and Queen. “You cowards, come out now. You are so stupid. Come out now! I am not afraid of you!” he shouted to the King.
 “Who’s that? Whom do you think you are disturbing my beautiful dream,” the King shouted back.
 “Why, why do you hate your own people like this? Why! Can’t you work for yourself to get rich? People are suffering to get the riches you are taking. God said a man should work for food and wealth. If you are a King it doesn’t mean you can just have whatever you want,” shouted David.
“Who do you think you are, stupid boy,” said the King angrily.
The Queen who was also there said, “My husband, that boy is insulting you. He thinks that he can judge you. Deal with him.”
“I just wanted to say that one day  you will regret ever taking other people’s riches. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” said David, leaving the palace.
 “My husband, you should punish him,” said the Queen. Astonished by David’s brevity, the King asked David his name. and said, “David, I am throwing a bet. If anything doesn’t happen to me you will be killed and all the people you’re protecting will lose their properties.”
“Fine, if anything does happen to you, you will return everything to everyone with ten pieces of gold on top and give up your throne,” said David.
“Sure,” the King agreed.
David went back to his village and told everyone the news. “People, I did my best. I had a bet with the King. I am sure I will win and you will get back your riches with 10 gold pieces on top,” said David to his people. “What will happen to the King if he loses,” asked one man. “He will give up the throne,” answered David. “That’s great,” said another man. “Thank you, David,” said another.
“I told you I did my best. We all have to wait and see. We should also pray,” said David after a certain old woman said, “Thank you, David. If the King loses you shall be our King. We all promise.”  “Yes,” agreed all the people. “Please don’t mock me,” said David. “We are not mocking you David. It is very true. You will make a good leader,” said anther man. The people in the village prayed day and night for the King to lose.
The King continued to take people’s riches. One good day, when everyone was happy, the guards approached an old lady’s house. “Woman, give us your riches,” shouted one of the guards. “I have gold but I don’t want to give it to you,” said the old lady. “If you refuse we are going to get the King,” said the guard. The guards went back to the palace and told the King about the old lady. The king went to the old lady’s house. “Hey lady, give me the gold now,” shouted the King. “Never,” said the old lady. “You asked for it,” said the King. He went inside the house and searched but he could not find it. “You are so stubborn. Guard give me your whip, I want to whip this lady,” shouted the King. He whipped the old lady until she told him where the gold was. “How many pieces are they?” shouted the King. “Ten pieces,” said the old lady in pain. The King took the money and went back to the palace. “My wife we have got all the riches from the poor. Let me see if the old lady’s gold is real gold,” said the King happily. He opened the gold pieces. When he started counting them the pieces turned into ten snakes. They were cobras.
The King and Queen were bitten almost to death. The snakes turned back into coins and the King and Queen were rushed to the hospital. Luckily, they survived.
“My husband you lost the bet. What are we going to do? What did we do? You are so stupid. We are losing everything you fool!” said the Queen, embarrassed.
“It just happened by mistake,” said the King sadly. “What mistake? You are a silly fool. I told you but you wouldn’t listen!” shouted the Queen. “Its life my dear wife and everything changes,” said the King ashamed. “What is life, what changes? We are going to live in the village and we are losing everything,” said the Queen. “Sorry my dear,”  the King tried to console his wife but she was hard.
“You know what, my parents are still alive. They still want me. I am still a princess. I am no longer your wife. Tomorrow I am going back to my Kingdom. I am sorry. I am leaving,” said the Queen. And the Queen went to another Kingdom where her parents were and the King was left alone.
David and all the people came to the King’s palace. “Give us our money,” shouted the people. The King gave the people their riches and also gave up his throne. “I am here to say that David has the throne now. He is our King,” said an elderly man. “He is our King because he was willing to lose his life for all of us,” said the old lady. “He is brave,” said the elderly man. “Yes,” agreed all the people. “Thank you all,” said David.
David was crowned King. He married a girl called Mary and she was crowned Queen. People were so happy. David loved his people very much. David got a son from his wife and they lived happily.

(Copyright:Panashe Mushambi)


Press Release

The Zimbabwe Writers Association (ZWA) is having an outreach meeting on Saturday 1 December 2012 in Masvingo at the CHARLES AUSTIN THEARTRE'S DOUG HILL ROOM (Masvingo Civic Centre) at 9am to 1pm. Writers around Masvingo and the outlying areas are all invited.

Our outreach would take the shape of introductions of associations and individual writers, followed by an open exchange of problems, challenges, ideas etc as the basis of consultation. On our part, we shall introduce the idea of ZWA and its constitution to Masvingo and what we have managed to achieve so far and how beneficial it has been to writers. In other words, it is really an open ended occasion. We shall discuss the ZWA constitution and how those interested may join.

Our contact persons are Dr Shumirai Nyota 0772529014 and Dr. Jacob Mapara:0772387981.
Membership fee is only $10.

We bring along a guest; writer Mashingaidze Gomo, whose NAMA-winning novel, A Fine Madness is currently on the Advanced level syllabus. Gomo has agreed to answer any questions on his book towards the end of the meeting. Teachers and their students who are reading this book for exams are welcome.
The Zimbabwe Writers Association (ZWA) is the newest nationally inclusive writers Organization whose formation started in July 2010 leading to the AGM of June 4, 2011. Zimbabwean writers have taken the initiative to coordinate themselves to form an organisation to represent them and defend their interests. ZWA was registered with the National Arts Council in January 2011 and has since been to Gweru, Bulawayo and Mutare.
+inserted by ZWA secretary, Tinashe Muchuri:0733843455


Mulimu Wa Zimwayamakani
Ngu Rev. Jeffrey Muleya.

Zimwayamakani zyaangunukide, zitakwe muziyeme alubo zyendelezegwa muluzibo abusongo bwajulujulu zilayandika muchisi nkokuti chizwidilile oobotu.
Zimwayamakani ;
  •  Zizibya bantu zintu zilikuchitikila kule ankubabede 
  • Zilasungwaazya lusumpuko muzilawu, muzilikiti amuzisi. Chitondezyo chimwi ncheechi: nzimwayamakani zikonzya kuzibya manyika aatala abuvubi bujanika mulaamwi masena atazibinkene, kajisi bantu batkonzyi kulichitila. Aabo bakonzya bamvwa balasika bazobeleke ziyanda kuchita mpawo lusumpuko lwasika kubusena oobo. 
  •  Zilagwaasizya kulibabaya balikuchikolo kakutalangwi kuti nchibeelaanzi. 
  •  Nguwo mulonga mupati ngutukonzzya kubelesya kumwaya chiimo chesu kubatuba
Yoonse misyobo yazimwayamakani yeelede kusumpulwa – mapepamakani, zipekupeku azimwi zyeendela muluubi. Chimbi chipati cheelede kusungwaazigwa, kapati muchisi chabaSiya chaAfrica, tweelede kuvuzya bube bwazimwayamakani eezi muzilawu kuchitila kuti;

  •  Boonse banichisi bulichimwi achimwi chazisi ajane mweenya wakuswiilizya kuwayigwa kwamilumbe kakutakwe buyumuyumu pe bweetelezegwa amayuwe ayangede nkaambo nkuzimwayila akulibamwi bantu kwalampisya. 
  • Bantu beni babe achakuchita aatala amabambe aabubelesi bwamumo. 
  • Milaka yesu yoonse ipegwe myeenya iyelene yakwaambuulwa akusumpulwa muzilawu amuzisi.
Kunkani yazyalusumpuko alwazyabuvubi luundu luyanda makani aanchobeni aatala azisambalilo antoomwe amilawu yafulumende mulizyamabbindawuko kuchitila kuti babambe antoomwe akuzwa amizeezo idontonkene. Zyeelede kujania munachisi woonse makani aamweelede amugwasya kuti azwe amizeezo ikonzya kumugwasya junza. Luundu lukonzya kumaninwa lusyomo kumabelekelo azimwayamakani antoomwe afulumende akugwasikana na twazyeenzya kabotu zyaleka kuba amasato.
Majwi ninguzu alubo, nkaambo kaboobo,  chimwi chiindi zimwayamakani mumasena asiyenesiyene nga zyeezya kukasyakasya na kulyatalyata nzila zyakumwaya makani aatede kuluundu. Eechi teensi nchibotu pe, pesi cheeta ntenda ntenda  zitamani pe. Luundu lutakwe luzibo lulimukakole katazwiki buuba pe.  Na kuti bamunichisi basowa lusyobo kububelesi bwazimwayamakani, nkokuti twasweekelwa. Majwi ninguzu, pesi eezi zikonzya kuba kasimpe luzutu majwi nakonzya kusaalila akusikila kunamunji.  Eezi tulazichita akuzwidilila na katuyanda mbuuli chisi. Ndalumba.
Ndilajatika a 0712 764 039 aa 0773 507 435 aalugwalomulilo:


Paradox To A Child
(How many mothers stay in abusive relationship for their children)

By Batsirai Chigama

There is something about
Harare in spring that reminds me
Of my mother
Harare in spring is...bellisma
She is fresh and regal
The smile of her Jacaranda bloom
Flirts with hope and new beginnings
Carrying the scent of promise
Telling yesterday’s barrenness
To take flight
At quarter past October
She wears the scarlet lipstick of flamboyance
Bold, daring
Enticing to the sojourners,
She wraps them in her charm
sends them home enthralled
Yet to me her resident
She shuts her door right in my face
Telling me not to get to used
to her beautiful ways
For soon like the purple bloom,
her smile will fall
Withered, sometimes downtrodden
I know a truth the sojourner doesn’t
Inside her Harare is wounded
She internally bleeds sewer
Down the throats of her children
Their faces wear a permanent frown
That cannot be undone.
I say this because
For too long ma,
You’ve worn a culture up your sleeve
thread-bare like seams
Hesitant thoughts and words
That never learn to crawl
Let alone take flight from your tongue
Beneath endless chores
You are buried
Only a chore-mover can dig you out
of a debris that strongly smells of pain
There in the depths of it, your beauty too
Fell and downtrodden has withered into
One big grin longing to curve into a smile
There are stories your pillows would tell
if they could
they would
how many buckets of tears
have drowned them
how many buckets of tears have drowned you
The ceiling and walls quietly have grown ears
Tired of the insults hurled at you
In the middle of the night
Doors banging
His car start in the middle of the night
they can’t hold from us, your muffled cries
a deep sadness descends upon your shoulder
clings to your lonely silence
like the choking smell of burnt popcorn.
Desperation crouches under your tongue
seeking to be spit like morning sickness
it cannot be told, we feel it, we see it
for you recoil into self
Widening the distance between us
yet we know you endure all this
for us, Mimi and I
Can you believe
as young as she is she asked me
“Do you think dad would still love her
if we had not been born?”
I had wondered the same too
Would it make a difference
Because if it does
We would simply crawl back in your womb
Just to put that infectious smile on your face
If only you could
In this instance
Walk through that door
he knows to use so much
And never look back
You would know
We would still
Tug at the hem of your heart
Just to see that beautiful smile
We miss so much and
Like the Jacaranda bloom
We would hold you in our minds
A seasonal freshness
That permanently lingers
Like your love
If only you could
In this instance
Walk through that door
he knows to use so much
And never look back

Confessions of a Fly On The Wall

By Rudorwashe Kanukamwe (above)

They say I am the enemy
for I am the fly on the wall
but I see
I realize
the woman
in this one little room
has given in to her marriage.

The little room
of torture and tears

yet she walks in
she lies down
breast to the floor
while I, the fly
 rest and stretch my legs on the walls

She knows the minute of violence
When it comes
she raises her head
                                                            fatigue cracks her neck
the chorus of lamentation
reaches the children
whose questions receive no answers
but they see and they know
I, the fly, heard them talk.
His huge shadow grinds to nothing
 the children’s pride of family

She tries to hide it from them
the years of pain

but I, the fly,
know much of what she has gone
to call her my heroine

I, the fly,
 Will rip the wall apart for her freedom


A few days ago we thought of having some fun by initiating a mini-competition where we ask questions about Zimbabwean writers and their works and give away book prizes. Well, we realize this shall go on in every newsletter.
The first question we asked was: what is the title of the Shona language novel that was first published in Zimbabwe and when was it published? Who wrote it?
We can openly say we didn’t get many responses via email but a few people chose to answer right on Facebook. No problem.
The answers we were looking for are: Feso, written by Prof Solomon Mutsvairo and published in 1956.
All answers we got were correct except for the year of publication. Feso was published in 1956 and not 1957, or 1963. And therefore our winner is….LAURA CHIWESHE!  She got every question correct. Laura, you win yourself a Write Idea book, check with us.

Our second question was: which anthology by Memory Chirere carries a story with a character Tadamuhwa and what’s the title of this story?
This was difficult, we can imagine, possibly because some of these books are not readily available to many young authors. We got no response for this question.  We are taking it off and replacing it without running away from Chirere.

Our next question is: 

Which book did Memory Chirere co-edit which tackles Charles Mungoshi’s works? Tell us the publisher and year of publication.

Email your answers to 


Reading is Power!


 "unclipping wings of the imagination"

15 November 2012

Here's something to make you smile

In the picture: Zimbabwean writer Memory Chirere

Stand a chance to win one of our Write Idea books!
Answer the following questions:

a) What's the title of the Shona language novel that was first published in Zimbabwe and when was it published?
Who wrote it?

b) Which anthology by Memory Chirere carries  a story with the character Tadamuhwa?
What is the title of the story?

Email answers to:

There are five prizes for the first 5 correct answers we get!

Winners will be announced in our WIN Newsletter No 61 which is coming soon...
You got to be a winner.

07 November 2012

WIN Newsletter, Issue No 60


Some of the past issues donated to WIN by Wasafiri

Welcome, welcome to the 60th issue of our newsletter! 
We would like to thank mother Muse for bringing us this far. We continue to appreciate your understanding of WIN and kindling its vision in various ways possible. A few days before posting this newsletter, WIN received some past issues of the WASAFIRI Magazine of International Contemporary Writing. We are indeed grateful to WASAFIRI. Our library continues to have diverse reading material for new writers. We also would like to take this chance to officially announce that WIN  has disbanded its Epworth office with immediate effect due to forces beyond its control and will only be based in town at its partner’s premise. However, the Epworth community outreach programme will not be affected in any way. Enjoy! 


By Beaven Tapureta

Novuyo Rosa Tshuma

There are always certain things about a past event that linger in the mind almost forever. 
 The official launch of Novuyo Tshuma’s debut novella Shadows on September 18, 2012, at the new Book CafĂ© (Harare) may seemingly have expired but one cannot help going back to the interesting, live interaction the author had with the first organized Harare audience of her book.
 Book launches offer this free opportunity to meet the creator and hear him or her speak the truth, nothing but the truth, about his/her book and its influences, and to get answers for burning questions.  
 Hence the launch of Shadows in Harare provided the much needed platform for interaction and discussion with South Africa-based Novuyo.
 The opening remarks by Tinashe Mushakavanhu and later Novuyo’s reading from her book were engaging episodes but no doubt that the audience’s different and pent-up reactions to Shadows were waiting for the author at the podium.
Rutendo Chigudu, an actress, writer and strong advocate for women’s rights, did not waste time to comment and pose a question about POV (point of view).
“I have just been reading your book and I am a bit disturbed and bit angry. But I didn’t stop…It is very engaging. You write in a way that paints images without necessarily imposing whatever image you have of Bulawayo. I also grew up in the ghetto. It allows me to see my own people doing whatever they are doing but I was wondering why, why did you decide to write as a guy, seeing that you are female?” she said.
 In response, Novuyo had this to say, “I wanted a character who could explore the setting with authenticity. If I used a woman it would have sounded feminist tutorial. I didn’t want this particular book to encompass that. There’s so much expectation and burden on women as a whole. So if you see a woman acting out of her character it’s automatically painted as a feminist picture. I wanted a character who could paint a certain side of Zimbabwe without having those burdens that women face. I stuck to the male character.”
 Tinashe Mushakavanhu, in his opening remarks, had alluded to Chenjerai Hove’s Shadows which he said was nowhere to be found in the bookshops which he visited except at the University of Zimbabwe.
Renowned writer Memory Chirere, echoed the same issue of title duplication but before he asked his question, he warned that, by the way, it is not a crime to have two different novels of the same title. 
He asked, “It’s this whole idea of having two novels of the same title from one country. What is your relationship with Chenjerai Hove’s Shadows and how is it similar or different from Hove’s?”
 An interesting question, Novuyo said.
“But if you ask me the writer I think I will speak with bias therefore I think that’s a question for critics to answer. As writers we write and critics interpret what you have written. Speaking of my own Shadows, as I wouldn’t want to speak on behalf of another writer’s work, but my Shadows is really about the grey areas of our existences, given Zimbabwe’s past decade. But of course we need to see what the critics have to say about the two books,” she said.
 A certain woman, admitting she had not yet read the book, asked, “But  why this story? Is there something that made you write this story?”
 “The book idea first came to me during the xenophobic experiences in South Africa. I remember at this time I was welcome as a foreigner in S Africa but I was yearning for home, that idea of home…” said Novuyo.
The xenophobia attacks in South Africa as a trigger that brought about Shadows prompted another renowned writer Musaemura Zimunya to ask if Novuyo had now ‘recovered’ from yearning for home, through writing and publication of the book.
“Given the origin of your inspiration, that is, the xenophobic disaster in S Africa at the time it happened and you were yearning for home, do you have a feeling now, having finished the book and published it, do you feel that you have identified, you have grasped what you call home you were yearning for? And have you been welcomed as joyfully as you expected after publication of your book?” asked Zimunya.
 “The question of home has many layers. As Africans there are many layers to our identity. There is this country, which to me means being Zimbabwean, then there is culture, which is being Ndebele, and all these interact to form an identity…but looking back from a different setting in S Africa gave me this heightened idea of home, and yes I have been warmly welcomed and am excited to be home,” said Novuyo.
 At this point the atmosphere had gathered momentum, and Chirere, as soft-spoken as he is, bounced back with another question. “What are your anxieties and joys when you think about your book? Are there various ways in which you relate with this story?” he asked.
 Novuyo, who jocularly remarked Chirere’s questions would expose her writing secrets, said, “When writing fiction, pieces of yourself are always left on the page. I think I relate to the emotion inherent in the book. The anxieties - for many writers, when you have written a book, the difficult is always in letting go. You are too close to your work and sometimes you think you have written the best work.”
 The launch of Shadows in Harare also came with prospective opportunity for Novuyo. One film producer present at the launch asked the author if she would love to see her novella turned into a feature film and Novuyo welcomed the idea of artistic collaborations.
 Last but not least, the launch also saw autographed copy of Novuyo’s Shadows (donated by the author to WIN) leaning the next day on other books in WIN’s in-house library, ready to be enjoyed.

 By WIN Staff Writer

Valerie Tagwira, author of ‘Uncertainty of Hope’

The discussion of Valerie Tagwira’s NAMA Award winning novel Uncertainity of Hope at the Spanish Embassy’s Book Club on Tuesday November 6 did not happen as expected because the author was rushing to the hospital to see a sick relative.
Tagwira, who is also a medical doctor, read a passage from her book to about six people before she excused herself and left for the hospital. Tagwira promised there will be another discussion possibly before December to make up for this one.
 Uncertainty of Hope was first published by Weaver Press in 2006 and then another edition was published by Jacana Media in 2008.
Llyod Machacha, a poet and writer with Africa Community Publishing and Development Trust (ACPD), was asked to present a brief talk about their latest booklet titled, “Crossroads”, a guide to important issues particularly leadership in all spheres of life.
Machacha said ACPD identifies problems faced in local communities and at national level and then hold workshops for people of all age-groups who contribute to the information and knowledge about a particular problem.
‘Crossroads’ is one of the booklets that ACPD has produced and distribute for free to communities through its publishing teams.
According to Romee Fisher from the Spanish Embassy Cultural Affairs department, the next discussion will be in January next year where a poetry anthology will be the focus.

Llyod Machacha making his presentation


(The following short story came fourth in the WIN/GAT Short Story Writing Competition in the Shona category)

Rwendo Nebhazi

Na Justice Gondoto, Epworth

Takafumobata jongwe muromo torova nhetserwa kuenda kuchiteshi. Ndainge ndakasimira mudhabha wangu waidaidzwa kuti rivho uye shati refu yandainge ndakabaira muna mai vayo ndokuti rupotanoko tsvee kuseva bhande. Dzakapesaniswa tsoka neni naambuya vangu Mugatyeni takaisa huma kuchiteshi.
Tichinoti pfacha kuchiteshi pakarepo dutavanhu rakabva rangotiwo pfacha. Chiripocho takaita chihatakata. Zvakandikanga mate  mukanwa kuona vana vadiki vakagarawo pazvigaro pamwe nevakuru. Ko, ini ndainge ndarasika here? Kweteka ndimo mainzi mubhazi macho. Ndakasviko gara zvangu munofamba nevanhu uko ndakatakura saga rangu renzungu. Ko ndaigoita seiwo sezvo waiva musi wangu wokutanga kukwira bhazi? Ambuya vangu ndivo vakazondibaira zanhi. Mutyairi akabva arinanzvisa mumugwagwa unobva kuChiredzi tonanga kuHarare kuguta remari. Richingokanda miseve pamhanza dzemakomo zuva, dzvukamupiriviri rashongedza nyika nerunako rwemandiriri bhazi rakange ramedza mitunhu ine makumi ingade manyatera.
Rakazoti zvino robvuraudza-bvuraudza mhanza dzeharahwa zuva, pasi rwave rufuse uye sadza rotamba mbakumba mudzishambakodzi bhazi rakati pfacha paZuwa parakambomira. Rakapiwa kudya kwaro gumbo redu, rarembedza raro dumbu, tangi razara nedhiziri zvino. Mutyairi nevamwe vakandigaira vachipinda makange makanyorwa kuti “Dandaro pamuromo wedende.” Vakasvikoita mahwekwe neshamwri dzaJopo ndokuti mudzimu waro bonga kuwana hukudzichirwa kana kuti maisokwadzo nyemba kutsva dzarungwa. Hwahwa hwainwiwa zvokutokanganwa kuti nguwo dziripi. Vamwewo vakambotsvaka zvavo twokunwira neruomesa makutsi rwechikafu chaibikwa naMadhendebvarubvaru pane chimwe chitoro chechikafu chainzi “Gapurechinanzvirwa.”
Zvakanzvenzvera munhengenya dzake mutyairi kuti aifanirwa kunwa hwahwa zvepfini nokuti vanasahwira vake vaitenga hwahwa musi uno aigona kupedza mazuva asina kuonana navo. Chinomira igomo nguva haimire zvachose. Akapindana masekondi akazvara maminetsi anova vabereki vemaawa hama dzemazuva. Mutyairi ndipo pakazoti dzadzara-dzadzara svikei pachigaro chedutavanhu mbweshekete. Ragomera gomera sadhongi mberi chiutsi ndiye togo togo. Vanhu vakamhanyirana ndokuita chihatakata zvekare. Rakabva raufema zvekare mugwagwa weHarare nhanho dzainge dzowedzera.
Bhazi rainge ravakubhururuka zvachose. Ambuya vakabva vazvuva gonan’ombe ravo rebute ndiye gugugu muruoko rwavo rwaindirangaridza dumbu rekamba. Vakatangisa kupaka mapatya avo ini ndainzwa seaiti, “O-oo John, O-oo Peter pedza chipedzisa!” Vakambokangwa nezvekuvhetemeswa kwebhazi pamusana penyambo dzaizazanurwa nemumwe mekweguru.
 “Varume ini kana nhunzi ikawira mumukaka ndinouteura ndotenga mumwe, asi ikawira mudoro ndinoitora ndosvisvina ndoiudzawo kuti igotengawo hwahwa hwayo mangwana kwete kupona nekupocha!” Izvi zvakaita kuti ndimboratidza mavende angu ipapo. Vachingopira gotsi kunyanya dzemutana uyu vanhu vakagoti dzaa kutusva mutyairi iye zenze tuku nemanyukunyuku manyemwe embudzi. Vamwe ndivo vaiti havasati vambonyorwawo mubepanhau zvichida vaizo wanawo mukana vaita tsaona. kana mumwe chete wedu akakwanisa kuita n’anga chishoperi pejambwa raizotiwira zuva iri. Zvose rushambwa nemvongamupopoto zvakange zvigere munhengenya dzake nyadenga pauzima. Ichokwadi kuti mafaro mwena unoguma. Kumhanya ikoko maiti kwaizoguma nepi. Vanhu vainge vapinda nemwenje mudziva. Mutyairi akange akaita kunyudza gumbo mumafuta uku akaita kunamira ruoko pane rumwe rwainge rusero rwaambuya vaSamere uku angunotambatamba nekamwe kagiya kaindirangaridza muporofita wechipositori.
Rakangoti budei mumugwagwa ndokutetereka nemusango svikei pamuunze waipo duma tsina rakadaro kunge ririkurumbidza nyadenga pedza pidingu pidigu mumakwenzi njo-o makumbo mudenga nganana kunge kamba iri kufarira howa. Mufaro wakashanduka kuve mhere. Pwa pwarakata kuputsika kwefafitera rakanga rakanyorwa kuti pokupoya napo tsaona , ndipo pandaka pona popo. Chakandikanga mate kuona mutyairi ongopwinyika sebenzi rarasa chikwama chine masendi. Izvi zvakaita kuti ndimbodonorera mumuromo make .Aah! makange mangosara mazino matatu akagaridzana semapfihwa  aambuya vangu vakange vafuga ravo vega mudumbu rebhazi rakange rakataridza makumbo kuna Mwari. Mupurisa akazosvika pamwe nemotokari dzekuchipatara asi yakange yadeuka mvura yeguchu.
Zvakandibvura moyo chose kuti chandikodobvura chetsaona chainge chandibaya panyama nhete chaipo. Zvakaitikawo musi wandainge ndatangawo kukwira bhazi uye rwendo rwainge rwagurwa negurwe ndisati ndambosvikawo Harare. Tsaona iyi yakaitawo kuti rwendo rwangu rwokuHarare rwukachidzwe nechazunguzadembe chetsaona yainge yamedzawo ambuya vangu.

The End
(Copyright: Justice Gondoto)


Ani teezibotu na?
Ngu Rev. Jeffrey Muleya

Ano mazuba mumasi miingi mazuwo aavula ali aatala amilaka. Kwamyaanda myaanda yaminyaka twalikubona chikuwa, chiFlansi, chiPutukezi kazidundula akulyatilila milaka yaBasiya mukubelesegwa. Sunu baSiya bayanda milaka yabo. Bwacha kabi! Aakati kaBasiya lwabo kuchili penzi ndileeli lyabulozi bwakuyanda kubundulatya imwi milaka, ababo balimvwa kabajisi nguzu zyakuchita boobo. Eechi nchiimbo chakaza abamaKuwa chiteelede kujanika akati kesu pe. Ncheenzu nkabela chilatondwa. Chikkazika luzeya masi. Bamwi besu muAfrica yesu bali mbuuli banaZambia abanaSasaFulika bayobufwambaana kubbwazula akukubona. Nikuba makkata amilawu aabo alasimatizya kusumpula akukwabilila kumwayuka kwamilaka yabo yoonse.
Ndakabotelwa kapati mweezi wayinda ooyu nindakaswayila nzubo zyangu kuchisi chaZambia. Beenzuma tabachili bazike bamigaano yamilaka amisyobo pe. Kwaambisya nkuyumu loko kuti uzibe musyobo wabanaZambia biingi akubaswiilizya kwaambuula biyo. Balaambuula akulikankayizya amilaka yabo mwiingi ijanika muchisi chabo. Na bakwaambuzya mumulaka ngotamvwi nga mpawo bakweezya awumbi kusikila mwamvwanana. Balatambulana. Takwe ngomvwa utii kumweenzinyina, “sindimvela”, “nsimvwide”, azili boobo.
Nindakabuzisisya kumweenzuma bumwi buunsi kuti bazikonzya buti wakati, “ A! kulindiswe tobanaZambia zyakunyansya milaka yabanichisima tuzibona kaalimayeeyelo ansiku atondezya kutanaasumpuka mumiyeeyo, tayetelezyi luumuno pe, nkabela taazwi kuliLeza pe”. Aaya majwi ndikaamvwa ndakazizimana. Mulindiswe twaambo twakulangilana aansi akusesema milaka yabanaZimbabwema tuchilaato. Ulmvwa muntu kati kumunachisinyina, “andinzwi, wadi kutawura neshona”, “angizwa khuluma ngesindebele”, chimwi chiindi nikuba kuti muntu ooyu unoli wamwaabuuzizye achikuwa, alakwe kalibonia kuti muntu wakiinda mumaboko amuyiisyi. Mweenya tuli awo wakutobelezya zibotu zichitwa ambituyakilene aabo. Na twabikaamwi mitwe yesu taakwe chikachila pe. Kukubamba ntalisyo tweelede kulangisisya zeezi, akati kazimwi;
Milaka yoonse muchisi ngibe mumulawu antoomwe achikuwa, zilembwe atanganana mukkata lyamulawu, amutulawulawu tusindikila zyalwiiyo.
Mutabi wazyaLwiiyo nguusungwazye kuyiisigwa kabotu kwamilaka yoonse njitujisi, kubikilizya chikuwa, bweelene.
Fulumende wesu, antoomwe amitabi ilyimvwilidi igwasyania aFulumende, balakonzya kuvuzya lwiiyo kuluundu, lumwaya kunyansyania, kwiindila mumaanda atwaambo azimwi nzila.
Kubika twaambo toonse tulimumulawu mumilaka yoonse yaambulwa abanaZimbabwe.
Sunu ndasiila mpaano. Ndalumba.           

Ndilajatika a 0712764039 aa0773507435 aalugwalomulilo:


Mbizo Chirasha (The Black Poet), left, in serious conversation with established writer David Mungoshi, right, before the start of the ZWA writers’ meeting on October 27 at the British Council. In the background in African attire is writer Memory Chirere.


By Mbizo Chirasha

see talking slums
silenced tongues
freedom silenced
hope killed
a bling of ghettos
collapsed humanity
mothers weeping ,
under the compression of religion
trees dripping tears
Ethiopia your festering open wounds
you are my anger!
children burn in smoldering canisters of hunger
time opened new wounds of memories of old scars
chained on rocks of ignorance
you need a compass of decency
my poetry is a catalyst fermenting your injustices
into beverages of justice
you are my sadness!
your heartbeat bleached in political fermentation
rhythm galvanized in furnaces of cultural myth
laughter imbibed by the rude stomach of the gun
culture crushing under the weight of globalization




"Unclipping wings of the imagination"