A life changing event

It took ages to find out this. As I was looking for a post to resurrect then the book of remembrance came knocking. Before this day I am gonna talk to if I think of continuing I had penned a single story as an undergraduate student and as a member of the University of Zimbabwe Creative Writing/Press Club. The story is in the oven where books are formed with other stories from different Zimbabwean authors.

I was initially coming from an exam, my last of that semester. A maiden speech was being read by the then new president. I wanted to hear history being made. Independence had come on the day Kufakunesu was born. Yeah Kufakunesu’s story is in one of the blogs titled after him to those wondering who this person is. I was not yet born when Zimbabwe and Kufakunesu are believed to have been born so I didn’t hear the speech that made Mugabe the golden boy of the world. It had strange metaphors so I heard. One of the silliest hinted at turning guns into pruning hooks. I know you love peace but hoes shouldn’t be guns and guns should never be pruning hooks.

So I reached the stadium where proceedings were going on. I head a boring booming voice speaking a strange language. I was furious and enraged by hearing the language of the boring voice. I made a swift u-turn to look for a taxi to fetch me home. I literally went home boiling with rage. I was angry and words started dancing around my head that a 45 minute journey seemed like an age old journey.

You probably want to know why I was so furious at a language I have been using a few hours during an exam. The reason was realizing how African revolutions are lost. For those who read my imaginary speech at Africa Day would know how I mistrust grand speeches. Yes that’s when revolutions are lost. Grand speeches make swift switch from the song language of the revolution to the language meant for a completely different audience. Okay take a moment if you are African and tell me a revolutionary song during the fight against colonialism that gave morale to the masses written in English or Portuguese or French?

This is what happened two weeks prior to the day I am telling you. The nation regardless of age, color or whatever had been motivated by the song Kutonga Kwaro by Jah Prayzah. I had seen them at Zimgrounds dancing to Banolila. Then booooooom on this day the famous line to come out of the speech was ‘Zimbabwe is Open for Business’. With my unschooled friend we said this is language of pimps. We wanted to use poetry from Zimbabwe to write a paper but failed to do so. If we had written the paper we wanted to warn the nation open for business mantra will leave the nation’s legs open to rapists from all over the world.

Anyway that is an asider, the day’s rage birthed a poet in me. On this day I wrote about 17 poems. Some of them have been dropped along the blog posts you have been reading. It was the birth of a writer. I realised presidents should not give speeches on before their terms of office. They should give them after their terms of office. Grand speeches are cheap. But they made me realise I am a poet