Kristina Rungano

the lorry driver's stressful glare
arms still joint akimbo,
next to him his iron monster
- Munya lies still
a smile lingers on His face hardly formed
i remember how his lips once whispered to mine
when we languished in love's esteem

i still love You Munyaradzi
though Your arm is crushed like the breasts of age unbodiced
the crowds stream in, hardly summoned,
greasy heads peer through masses of humanity
You despised them so
stares grip Your heaped past
yet You lie undisturbed
beneath the tatters of your clothes
which this morning You so earnestly pressed
I visualise Your caring face glowering
so much life You were owed such promise
Your face still shines
You lie there unhearing
proud like an everlasting pedagogue
eyes open, watching, seeing naught
at last You sleep.

go home
i've taken You this far
You leave me
An infant crying for its mother
Your memory will always remain
a cancer swelling within me,
go home Munyaradzi
the children call,
go home
the coach waits
they think they cover shame
go home
i follow close behind.
...

Young damsel weeps
Sighs silently for home
She the property of men
Pass'd 'tween them from hand to hand
Fragile piece of glassware
Priced;
Valued in dollars and cents
Slaved like a machine
She is left no say, no right
Her feelings but idle whims.

Young damsel weeps
Pleads sadly for understanding
But there is no place in our culture for love
She is beaten by men
Pass'd from hand to hand for a price
$900 her father charged her husband
$900 and head of cattle
- Cows are killed for beef
- Dollars buy clothing and food
She is milked . . .
Imprisoned beauty
Fed and fatted for childbearing
Her opinion but a fitty-fact.

Young damsel weeps for her tomorrow
But he who hears feigns deafness
Young damsel fruit of the land
Socialised into acceptance of her fate
Mother and benefactor
Young damsel, priceless jewel
Treated with reference worse than a child
She weeps today
Her anger swells
But she lives on
...

Woe is that building my love
For there it was I learnt war
When overcome by that cold curiosity
I heard a sound and peered thro' windows
To almost collect a flying bullet.

Around me people scuttled
And buried their heads in upholstery,
I remember the face of a frightened man, my uncle
He shook and trembled
His face was masked by moist sweat
Whilst breath came in loud short gasps
Thro' gaping mouth
And condensed on a wet lip
The other was dry and white
His nostrils had flared out
As tho' overcome by mirth
And his laughter been subdued by a grimace
I thought how like a ghost he looked -
And now he is dead.

I remember the screams of despair
How strange they sounded, yet so familiar
I saw men dashing about,
Children being shot like dogs,
And women running hither and thither;
Straight skirts and high heels forgotten.
Some fell
Some were caught trying to save a child
Till finally one man like a raving lunatic
Jumped forth, grabbed the assassin and pinned him down
For crowds to kick, beat and batter
I recall my confused emotions
Anger replaced by pity
And killer changing from murderer to brother
And the relief when they dispersed the vengeful rabble

I almost died in that building
And today they told me
How five were blown to bits in there.
...

For nine months I had borne him in my womb.
Nine months of disillusionment and pain
Relieved only occasionally by the gentle kicking within me;
The gentle movement of the life I created within me
Nine months I waited for this day;
Nine months and the grotesque lump growing on me.
And Kit always making numerous sacrifices - of patience and love -
Nine dreary months of waiting for this day.

And now I was beginning to feel sharp pains in me -
And mama saying they are labour pains -
The pains which will be the spring of new life . . .
Would it be a boy, I thought with intensified wonder;
- How proud his father would be,
- Or would it be a girl -
Someone I could teach to be just like me
And spoil with pretty frocks
And sweetly scented flowers to adorn her head?

I looked up in Kit's eyes
- The eyes that had seen me through
- The eyes that had known my sadness and joy for nine months
And saw in them all the love and care
- The pain which he felt for me
And like the sun on a cold morning
Relieved me of all fright, all desolation.

I looked with warm contemplation
To the moment when his warm embrace would say
‘Our very own baby - the very essence of our love'
And tiny little hands would cling to my breast in hunger
Tiny mouth drawing warm milk from me
An innocent little face looking into my face.
With trust
Learning me, just as Kit did.

I felt him Kit
Captured by a foresight of summer days to come
The days when we - no longer just two -
Would walk in the dusk
Caressed by the warm breeze
And our child would learn to sing the birds to sleep
And dance the kan-kan with the fireflies.

And thus I was borne to the labour war
Whilst Kit waited
- Waited again
- Waited in warm anticipation
- Waited for the awakening of a new beginning.
...

We huddled on street corners
Coughing like hags
Feet suffocating in great big leathers
Rooted in muck and slime
The smoke from our cigarette butts
Escaping into the already scented air
And finding freedom amongst its friends
The unmistakable aroma of urine and uncleanliness.
Where once our skin had known the softness of youth
Now lay chunks of flesh
Taut and fibrous
Stretching like used twine
As it built a wall against wind and cold
Our noses twitched;
Trembling lips went dry; unsmiling
We looked into each other's eyes where pain lay
Silent and cold;
Someone belched
And released a load of last night's merriment
Last evening we had known bliss in pubs
And in the morning light;
Souls loitering in weary bodies
We held each other close
And looked to the approaching bus
Which we scrambled into
Our jeans scrubbing in the metal railings
Till we found solace in the upper deck
Where herds of cattle might have passed on sand.
We peered through the dust for seats
And there stretched our legs and laughed
For we knew not how death haunted us
Such was the gift of civilisation!
...

‘If another person says, "No vacancies",
I'll shoot his mouth out,' said my brother.
‘Hush,' said I with irritated anger
And so we squabbled.

All day we had gone from door to door
Waving our envelopes weighted by qualifications
But what with nepotism
We watched it
The posh; the rich
(Maybe tomorrow I should slit my skirt)
And the glittering slide out of big cars
And take our positions in offices
We were numbed by guilt
Here we were reaping the fruit of our parents' poverty
So whilst they took our jobs
To earn present-buying cash
We rolled on the grass at flyover junction
And attacked our lunch, ‘skondamoyo'
My brother's eyes regarded me
And I read him say,
‘How sweet the taste of mahewu'
We shared from a plastic bag
That had costs us 10c
And a day's busfares.
Sometimes we thought to give up
Then we thought of our mother back in Chirambahuyo selling vegetables
And we met the eye of the capitalist
And damned civilisation
And solemnly bowed when he again said,
‘No vacancies'.
...

On the horizon the English sun rises
How it strains to control the world
Its yellow light steals thro' the windows
And settles where angels dare not tread
Lovers sigh; satisfaction guaranteed
Curtains are drawn and music centres come alive
Cold, tired workers creep out of bed
And hurry about below.

The grass below looks green
And the once gloomy buildings shine with yellow radiance
Yet the sun is devoid of all warmth
It is cold and piercing,
Teasing, irritating and hazy
The milkman chatters and clatters.
The postman clings to his worn-out jacket
Whilst upstairs the African girl is awakening
Wearily she drags her drugg'd body out of bed
And slowly pulls it down the stairs
Dazedly going about the usual routine;
Three cups of coffee, on the house
Then back to bed she creeps;
Snuggles into bed and moans contently
As she hugs her pillow
And dozes off,
Coffee forgotten.
She is far off from the sunny streets of home
Where one must jump out of bed before dawn
- Commanded by the warmth of Africa
...

A minute ago I came from the well
Where young women drew water like myself
My body was weary and my heart tired.
For a moment I watched the stream that rushed before me;
And thought how fresh the smell of flowers,
How young the grass around it.
And yet again I heard the sound of duty
Which ground on me - made me feel aged
As I bore the great big mud container on my head
Like a big painful umbrella.
Then I got home and cooked your meal
For you had been out drinking the pleasures of the flesh
While I toiled in the fields.
Under the angry vigilance of the sun
A labour shared only by the bearings of my womb.
I washed the dishes; yours
And we swept the room we shared
Before I set forth to prepare your bedding
In the finest corner of the hut
Which was bathed by the sweet smell of dung
I had this morning applied to the floors
Then you came in,
In your drunken lust
And you made your demands
When I explained how I was tired
And how I feared for the child - yours - I carried
You beat me and had your way
At that moment
You left me unhappy and bitter
And I hated you
Yet tomorrow I shall again wake up to you
Milk the cow, plough the land and cook your food,
You shall again be my Lord
For isn't it right that woman should obey,
Love, serve and honour her man?
For are you not the fruit of the land?
...

My past still forms images in my mind's memory.
I sit on a rock at dusk.
In the distance is the sound of laughter;
Male voices, female voices and sweet music.
The soft tingle of glass on glass and merriment.
In my mind the fantasies of being a lady of the world live on;
Images of a warm room,
And people dancing in each other's arms
I am intoxicated by fun ecstasy.
And every time I remember this I am revisited by a soft voice
And the warm breath that gently brushed my ear
Whispering in divinity's caress,
And how they mingled with the sound of dusk
And the song of the lone bird that sang somewhere amidst the green shrubs
I am not quite sure - but I think it was a cuckoo.
Only one thing remains certain:
I'll never forget those words,
I'll never forget them for they have since chauffered my life,
I'm sure, I'll never forget that moment up on a rock at dusk.
...