31 December 2009

Budding Love by William Tekede

The date is 25 December 1982. I woke up with a strict schedule in mind. It had taken us a lot of time planning how we would spend the two most important days of December, Christmas and Boxing day.

When I rose from the new reed mat bed that my father had made me days before my arrival from boarding school, my backside was itching. It was nothing serious but the effect of the new acquisition that had drawn bezier curves on my body. The mat had proved too rough for comfort in a night that had proved too cold for comfort. Its discomfort was not a result of poor workmanship. My father would make them with expertise that was the envy of the community.

I had not made the traditional fire to warm my room that night. I had come home outside normal hours. It had rained cats and dogs and the firewood was wet. Because of the great expectations of the coming two days, especially those of this morning, I had offered myself to the unkind weather that I had borne with stupid courage. The only blanket I was using was very thin with one big hole. I would fold it into two halves every night. The side with a big hole would cover my under side while I would cover my top side with the other half and coil into foetus position every night. In later life this became my popular two–in–one blanket that proved not so useful that night.

Since my arrival from Gweru exactly five days before, we had been working in the fields like slaves, so we could cover up and enjoy the Christmas days. I had met my friend Joshua once briefly since my arrival. Our second meeting was on this Christmas day’s eve. We quickly exchanged updates and spent the rest of the time fine-tuning our movements of the next two days. Top on the agenda were two subjects, Mary and Betty.

I remember very well how Joshua had confirmed it that night. That Mary had finally given in to my proposal. The knowledge that I had won her heart sent chills down my spine. When I asked Joshua why she hadn’t replied my letter, all he could say was,

“...listen, Mary is dying to see you. She thinks now that you are in boarding school, you are the smartest boy she would go along with in this community. She even told George in public to stop bothering her since she is now in love with you. The only reason she couldn’t reply to your letter is that she didn’t have a postage stamp, but I had already given her the envelope that I had made at her request.”

At that moment I could feel my hair rising. What had triggered this hair rising, I was not sure. Was it excitement that I was in love or the mention of George and his loss? I got my mind mixed up.

George had always been an enemy. Firstly because he came from another village and had belonged to the rival camp that was our target. Whether it was about playing football or village fights he had always belonged to the opposition. Secondly, the bad blood between us became a catalyst when he became a rival suitor and sealed our hatred of one another.

Nyaradzai, his sister had always been a stumbling block in class. We were in the same class throughout our primary education. Joshua was a brilliant scholar who always came first in our class and she would come second while I would take a distant third position. The only time I had ever trounced her was when I had cheated on an end of year grade three mathematics test. It was a planned defeat. Since the three of us were in group A, it was easy. We had planned that Joshua would reveal his answers to enable me to copy and that was successful. I remember her sobbing when the results were called out on prize giving day while we enjoyed the proceedings and walked up the podium to receive our prizes.

Mary was the daughter of Reverend Munyoro, while her friend Betty was the second daughter of Elder Ruzivo and both belonged to the Girls on the Move movement in their church. We understood it to be a church ruling that girls would be expected to move in groups of not less than three. We knew that separating the two girls from their group was not just difficult but almost impossible given their reputation and status. All we wanted was time, alone with the two girls. What we would do with them none of us paid attention to that. I had saved enough money from the bus fare that I had been given and that would be enough to buy some biscuits and sweets for the four of us.

The road to the township passes through my place. We planned that Joshua would come to my place or if he was late he would find me at our usual spot where we would wait for Mary, Betty and... who else? We didn’t know. Passing on the message to Mary was easy. It was traditional that on such days like Christmas days, good neighbours would feast together. Adults and children would do this in the morning before visiting the township, the center for the best entertainment of the day. Joshua and Mary’s families were good neighbours. They belonged to the same church. We concluded that Joshua’s sister would deliver to Mary the message of our planned meeting during the morning feast. On Boxing Day, we planned to square it up with George if he interrupted and spoiled our Christmas day.

After rising and stretching myself, I could feel the itching of those mat lines easing. I was still standing before the door rubbing my eyes. The room was still very dark. When I opened the door I could tell it was dawn. I went out and after peeing, I got back into my room and sat upon the mat. I could not afford to sleep any more. My mind was set on the apple of my eye, Mary. The prospect of meeting her was fascinating but each time I thought about it, I found myself shaking, scared and with goose pimples all over my body. I found it very strange that my body was reacting in that manner.

The noise of birds started filtering through the small window or rather a hole in the wall, and I knew it was time to get up and start preparing for the day. My first task was to slaughter a goat that would provide meat for the day. The billy goat had been identified the day before. Although I was supposed to assist my big brother with the slaughtering, I took it upon myself to do it. I thought I was old enough to do it and did not need to disturb my already married brother from his sleep. The pushing factor was that schedule I didn’t want disturbed.

When my brother woke up soon after sunrise, he found me carrying a big dish with a carcass in it and heading towards the kitchen door.

“Oh! You are already done?” was all he could say.

He went back into his hut and shut the door before I even responded. When I entered the kitchen, fire was already lit and water in a big black tin was boiling. On my way out, I met my brother’s wife just outside the door carrying a bucket full of fresh water drawn from a well six hundred meters away.

After exchanging some good mornings, she passed a comment, that I was an early riser unlike Baba Matwins, my brother, who is always late even when he knows there is something to be done early. She added that it was the reason why they were struggling to make ends meet even with putting enough food on the table to feed their two daughters. She wished she had a son who would grow up to be like me. I only promised her things would be better and did not say much. Not that I didn’t care but that my mind was programmed for the day.

I had accomplished my official duty for the day. I didn’t have to graze goats and cattle that day. My two nephews had been tasked with that although it was my duty. I went back into my room, not that the house had many rooms but was just a one room round hut we had used with my brother. Now that he was married, he had given up his ownership through being weaned, leaving me to be the only owner. I took a towel and bath soap, bolted out and headed for the stream east of our homestead.

When I reached the stream at the point where we used to take our bath, the water was covered with a soapy mist. This place was meant to be used by male members of our family. It was a rule enshrined in the unwritten constitution of our family.

There was a big boulder at the edge of the pool that extended to cover about a quarter of it. The bigger portion of it was immersed but would always have a small part sprouting out. Without paying much attention to anything within the surroundings, I leaped on to that important part of the big rock.

I had already taken off my clothes. Upon landing on the right spot, a bull frog jumped into the water and swarms across to the other edge of the pool. It left me off balance and frightened. I hadn’t noticed it sitting on the rock when I hoped on and had missed it by a second. If it had taken a slow flight, I would have crashed it to death on the spot. Instead, I was the one standing and trembling. I quickly got off the spot and armed myself with two big stones. I took aim and with one strong throw I sent the poor creature sprawling and floating down stream lifeless.

Shortly afterwards, I was on my way home. I noticed something silver lying still across the foot path. When I got closer to it, I discovered that it was a blind worm (Tsukukuviri). Bad omen was registered in my mind; though I could not remember from earlier teachings, whether this would be true when the worm is found still or in motion. I simply stepped off and proceeded.

When I reached home, my father had yoked two of our well trained and loyal beasts and was pulling a cultivator. The mere sight of it got me upset. I knew that timetable was now rendered useless.

He must have realized it when he called me and told me it was a small piece of land that needed to be worked on. I simply hung my towel on the wash line and off we went to the fields.

What was meant to be a small piece took us close to four hours. When we took a small break at some point I got a small lecture of cautioned praise about my official business of the day. The cultivation business was an after thought.

“Son, you did the goat slaughtering well. That’s what a man ought to do. You are doing better than your brother. The only problem is that you did it too early as if you had stolen the goat and it was on the wrong place. Animal blood should not be spilled about our homestead, it’s a taboo (zvinoyera) and besides, you ruined the goat skin your mother wanted to use for a mat. I am happy with your work my son”, he concluded.

Most of the time during the lecture I was nodding my head. He had no problems with this for he knew I was a young man of few words. When the cultivation was over, it was 11:32 AM.

Unyoking Bishop and Voster, I drove them across the same stream I had taken bath earlier on that morning. The two beasts joined the rest of the other animals. On my way back, I washed my legs and hands in the same stream. When I reached home, food was ready. Although I was in a hurry, I did a good job devouring it. After that I stashed some red hot ashes into the iron and took it to press the clothes that I meant to use for the occasion.

Other than my school uniform, it was the only decent set I had. The brown safari suit had been bought for me by my brother from his demobilization money he got paid when he left the army. I was pressing with a wet towel covering the portion of the suit that I was working on. Soon the exercise was over but not without a blemish.

A piece of ash had dropped on to the inner side of the lower part of the right leg of the trousers leaving a hole that anyone observant would see. I cursed my carelessness but was still confident, that I would be outstandingly dressed. Not many if any, young boys and men would afford such luxury. I was dressed to impress Mary and that’s all I wanted. With a few coins making music in my pocket I left with my head raised high.

I had concluded that Joshua was already waiting at the meeting point and that I was the one late. I was one hour behind schedule. When I reached at our spot I almost called, “Joshua”, as if I had seen him. Until today, I don’t remember whether I did it or not. But Joshua was nowhere near to answer. While in that state of puzzlement, I heard voices from a group of some happy girls coming up the hill. If I had been on the right spot I would have seen them all. We had used that spot as our observation post on many occasions.

I ran furtively towards that spot I didn’t want anyone noticing and I took the advantage of the neck high grass. Out of those voices none seems to be that of Mary. Only once did I hear the one I assumed to be that of Betty. I was not certain but that voice gave me the assurance I needed.

When I reached the desired point, I went flat on my stomach. Taking cover like a lion preying on a herd of water-bucks, I waited for what was coming my way.

A few minutes later, the group passed by. I slowly rose, taking advantage of a dense shrub. I was standing on the tips of my school shoes peeping to see if my queen was there. Once again the spying business had begun, and it was the first time I was doing it alone.

At first I didn’t recognise any of the girls. Most of them were dressed in unusually clean clothes. A few had new dresses. On my second attempt I saw someone looking backwards with expectant eyes. My heart was pumping fast such that I could hear the sound of my heartbeat. I quickly ducked fearing someone would spot me. It had been some time since I had met these community girls and they must have changed a bit. But that someone I saw surely had a good looking face.

When I went for a third peep, two girls had stopped and seemed to be engaged in some discussion. Both were looking back exploring. That is when I noticed and realised that it was Mary and Betty. There was no doubt that the message got to them with the precision that we expected. Mary was the last word for beauty. She looked stunning.

There was a big improvement on Betty compared to when I last saw her first term. I had spent the second term holiday in Gweru. My sister who was married and living in this town had received a letter from home with clear instructions. Never was she to send me home for there was little work to be done and that it could also save money for the third term.

When the news was delivered, it bothered me a lot. All they think I want to go home for was work, work, work and nothing else but work. How mistaken they were. I had also wanted much more than work. My sister knew as much as everyone, that all I wanted this time of the year was to meet my dear friend Joshua. That was not a secret and anyone who knew us did not need to guess on what bound us two together in our companionship.

The point that they had missed was that the two of us had been working on developing partnerships. The same partnerships that growing up boys of our ages would be engaged with the opposite sex. With that at the back of my mind, I had drafted and dispatched that letter to her. It had never been replied to but here I was bearing its full consequences.

Here I was, facing my partner. The result of a protracted process of negotiating that was brokered by Joshua. Where was he to cement this relationship? I didn’t want to disappoint her, yet I could not stand to face her in the absence of my broker.

I again went down with some chills I couldn’t explain gripping my whole body. I remained down there much longer this time hoping Joshua would pop up. Suddenly I heard the sound of something moving towards me and concluded that Joshua had finally made it. I was wrong. It was a calf that had gone astray.

I had taken a sitting position now that the girls had gone past, and would not notice anything now. There was some distance between us that prevented any form of visibility.

Suddenly a mouse ran across right in front of me. Before I could even wink, I saw a snake in hot pursuit. I jumped, screaming and running towards the path. It was only when I got to this path and ran some fifty or so meters towards the township, that I remembered to check whether the two most important girls were still there. But I was now standing right at the place where they had been standing a few minutes ago. The few leaves and pieces of grass on the ground confirmed my judgement. They were nowhere to be found. They were with the rest of the group afar. That’s when I realised I had spent so much time low down after my last peep.

I was now thinking how I would have met Mary in that frightened state, had they waited there a little longer. What kind of a man would she think I was? A man who is supposed to be the defender of his family running right into her arms possibly knocking her down in flight from a snake. But that very morning I had vented my anger on that defenceless bull frog. I cursed and told myself that I was stupid.

A group of some boys caught up with me. They were happy to see me. But still Joshua was not there. I enquired his whereabouts from his young brother Tatenda who was part of this group. He only could reveal that his big brother had left home to catch a bath early in the morning and had still not come back when he left. He assumed like any other member of their family that the two of us were together.

By now we were very close to the township. We could see from a distance that the place was already full. The sound of music and that of the other people singing along could be heard very clearly.

I was the centre of attraction with everyone wanting to know how I was fairing in boarding school. I was already getting annoyed with questioning that went on. Even some distant friends were getting closer. I didn’t need the attention at this point in time. All I wanted was Joshua’s or rather Mary’s company. None of the two were around and that dampened my spirit.

But I knew Mary was there for sure, yet I could not get anywhere closer to her without Joshua. Despite his confirmation, I still could not face my sweetheart alone.

I saw that group of girls I had seen earlier on enter Bobby's shop. They still were moving in a wave clinging together. The reason I noticed them was the two girls who had been engaged in a small talk before my flight. I had spotted what dresses they were donning and that could never have been a case of mistaken identity.

I reassessed my dressing and found out that my safari suit top had green stains on the top pocket. I reviewed events that had taken place at the observation post. Whoever did not look close would think it was a decoration of some sort. I didn’t bother much about the stains. I could tell that I was dressed much better than most guys around. Whether it was psychological or real I still don’t know.

Bobby’s shop was the most popular. I didn’t want to go there when everybody in our group seemed to be heading towards that direction. It was a strange thought. A moment ago, I had seen who I wanted to be with the rest of the day enter that shop. So, why this sudden strange feeling, I could not understand it. Looking towards the same direction, I saw George’s company enter the same shop and I knew what they were after.

They could have entered there for any other reasons. But I didn’t want them in there at this point in time. I could feel some little sweat on my brow. I was angry. My pulse raced I wanted to charge into that shop.

The voice of my cousin's brother greeting distracted me. It was our first meeting since my arrival. I was happy to meet him but could not show him my complete happiness. He was a relief but not what I wanted at this point in time. While we were standing there, that group of girls came out of the shop moving towards our direction. We had gone past two other small grocery shops.

When they were marching past us, Betty stopped and asked me where Joshua was. Mary pretended to want to walk past slowly without saying anything. I only gathered the courage to say, “Hello Mary”. She responded with a low voice accompanied by a deep prolonged smile. The dimple in her right cheek was the centre of my attraction. She was very shy and so was I. I was mesmerised.

The answer that I gave to Betty’s question on the whereabouts of Joshua, I suppose was satisfactory. No sooner did the two girls go past us. I wanted to see much more of them but they were gone, gone with the wind.

“I meant to ask you about your friend Joshua,” my cousin brother Runyararo enquired. “Is he the reason you don’t look happy?”

“You know what it is like between me and Joshua, don’t you?” was my response.

When I told him I was expecting Joshua to join us soon he simply nodded his head. When I said us I didn’t mean him included as he assumed. I meant myself, Joshua and the two lover birds that had just flown past us. I was still staring in the same direction, but they were long gone. I only started to move when George’s group was passing by quite some distance from us.

It was good to see them maintain their position. Battle axes were drawn. There was no doubt about the existence of the invisible rift that existed between us. By now, Joshua was the only member missing in my group.

We spend the rest of the day playing the cats and dogs game. Two rival groups having a common subject. The only highlight of the day was when I bought a packet of some Marie biscuits and a bottle of Fanta that were delivered to Mary by the messenger girl. The same girl who had delivered the message about our failed meeting had to do it again. When the delivery was made, she acknowledged by half raising her hand and waving weakly. That indeed sent me on cloud nine. My spirits were raised high, knowing the deal had been sealed.

Those eats had almost wiped my purse and it would have been depressing if they were rejected. I bought a few Mazadzadama (apricot sweets) with what coins I had left. We had to break these into several pieces and shared them among my group of ten boys. We were all satisfied.

When I got home late that evening, Joshua’s father was seated with my father. The two were having tea. A medium sized plate full of roasted goat meat had been placed closer to Joshua’s father. I knew the man liked meat a lot and there was nothing sinister about my observation. All I got was a warning never to come home as late as that time and I was sent looking for some pepper and more salt. I made the delivery within seconds and went back into the kitchen to get my supper.

When I entered the Kitchen my young sister aged seven years, was complaining about how I had failed to buy her anything and yet, she had seen me buy biscuits and a bottle of Fanta that I had given to Joshua’s young sister. Chipo was refusing to serve me food and mother was telling her to stop her nonsense.

I was enjoying my dinner when my mother started telling me about how I had ruined that goat skin she had wanted for a mat. That’s when I knew it was meant to be a New Year gift for the District Pastor. She was not angry and did not show any signs of bitterness. It was now, that it got registered in my mind. I had broken so many traditions that morning.

“You saw Joshua’s father seated in the Dare with your father”, she inquired.

She was telling me what she knew I had witnessed moments before or was it a question. His visit was nothing unusual as far as I was concerned.

“Yes”, I answered.

“Joshua had not been seen since he left home this morning. He hasn’t eaten his breakfast and everyone is now worried about his whereabouts”.

Her remarks about everyone being worried sent me brainstorming. I hadn’t thought much about anything other than his failure to fulfil our appointment. He hadn’t done anything like that before.

“Don’t you worry much my son. Joshua might have gone to visit his uncle in defiance of his father’s order.”

It was at that point that I realized I had stopped eating. If anyone was worried, then I must have been the one worried most. Not that I sensed any danger. I couldn’t fathom why Joshua would choose to desert me at that crucial time in my life. After all, we had spent so much time that evening planning and why he didn’t tell me about his plan did not make sense to me. Was he jealous about my Mary? But he was the broker and would not have done such a good job if my thinking was right. So he was keeping a secret from me, we shall see.

With that in mind, I went sleeping. I knew my position very well and there was no preparation to be done. So I threw my body on there with the full knowledge that everything I needed was in place. I was feeling with my fingers to find the corner of the blanket that I needed when I heard the sound of the mat screeching underneath. I realized I was not in boarding school and not on that bunk bed.

I closed my eyes and forced myself to sleep. For a very long time I had my eyes closed but very much awake. At one time I had them open and gazing into the roof above. The sound of a bat flying in and out through that hole in the wall was nothing unusual. I couldn’t see anything in that darkness. I gave up sleeping and set up with my back against the wall. I kept shifting positions until I had a dream.

In that dream, we were playing the game:

“Sarura Wako” “Choose your girl”

“Kadeya -deya anendoro chena” “The beautiful one with a white crown”

“Wangu mutsvuku” “My girl is light”

“Kadeya -deya anendoro chena” “The beautiful one with a white crown”

“Anozora ambi” “She wears Ambi”

“Kadeya -deya anendoro chena” “The beautiful one with a white crown”

“Handeyi Darlee” “Lets’ go my darling”

“Kadeya -deya anendoro chena” “The beautiful one with a white crown”

Mary and I were hopping away from the line where other girls still stood. I had chosen her and grabbed her without breaching any of the game’s rules. In no time, George had his hands on my throat and Joshua was restraining him. He had pinned me down. Then I saw Mary approaching with that deep smile that she had let out once. The dimple was much deeper this time. The next moment George was about to plant his bloody mouth on her lips. Mary turned her head aside and was calling my name. I sprung off the ground charging like a wounded tiger and head buttered him.

When I woke, my brother was shaking my whole body. My head was killing me. I couldn’t figure out what time it was. The mere presence of my brother gave me the assurance that it must have been late in the morning.

“The whole community is up looking for your friend Joshua and here you are screaming your lungs out in your sleep”, was all he could say.

By the time we reached Joshua’s place, Headman Chigutiro was addressing many people who were gathered there. They had searched everywhere and were now exhausted. Even the little ones had played their part except me. So I was the odd one. I got sight of Joshua’s uncle among the crowd. I was a bit relieved. I explored further but could not find him. I felt like wanting to throw up.

When we got nearer, Headman Chigutiro’s last words were that he had sent a Jinda (Messenger) to Magunje Growth point. Apparently he had been sent to inform the police about the missing Joshua.

Everyone was distracted by young boys who had been sent to tender goats. They were running back screaming.

One of the goats had given birth to two kids. The kid had to be named Boxer later in life. Apparently, when they went into the enclosure to help the kids out, they had seen something very strange and frightening. That strange thing was Joshua’s corpse; it was hanging from a pole that spanned this enclosure, to give support to the roof.

When the police got his body out much later that afternoon, Joshua’s mother was still wailing uncontrollably.

“I told you Mangwiro. That snake you killed in the morning, Mhunzamusha (Family Destroyer) is no good. Look now what has happened to my son? Ngozi dzekwenyu Mangwiro dzandidyira mwana wangu.” (avenging spirits haunting your family have killed my son).

It was sad. I couldn’t watch her in that state of pain. Mangwiro Munyoro, Joshua’s father looked sad but composed. It was all hysterical. I felt some stomach pains and ended up with a runny tummy.

Joshua had written a letter that was found in the back pocket of his sports short that he wore under an old trouser he had put on that morning. All I remembered from the contents of that letter were the words, “...I have decided to join my sister Pamhidzai.” My good friend Joshua had signed his death certificate. I had lost him in the misty of my newly found love. It was a third suicide in the family in recent years.

“Ngozi?,” whatever it was, my friend, my dear friend Joshua was gone and gone for good.

On her face I couldn’t read anything. It looked just plain. There was not even a trace of that dimple. If anything, she looked like that bull frog had looked like just before I killed it. I wasn’t angry. Her shining eyes gave me hope. I knew I wanted more, much more that her posture couldn’t reveal now. A lot of what I wanted was lying under her skin. She remained my girl, the delight of my eyes and the desire of my heart, and at that moment Joshua and Betty were born again.

Budding Love was written by William Tekede.

Copyright William Tekede 2009.

William Tekede was delivered on 16 June in the winter of 1967. He was born in the round pole and dagga hut, the family kitchen on Welcombe or Boss Mhosi’s farm which lies west of Karoi town along the road leading to Magunje Growth Point. The farm was popularly known as Mhondoro Farm.

In 1973, William started his primary education at Sengwe Primary School. This was after the family had left farm employment and resettled under chief Nyamhunga in the Hurungwe Tribal Trust Land. One Thursday afternoon in June 1978 the school was closed down at the height of the liberation struggle. This development saw William out of school for two years until 1980 when he resumed his education and enrolling for grade six at the same school. After completing grade seven, I then went on to do my secondary education at Pakame Secondary School in Shurugwi from 1982 to 1985. I enrolled to study Librarianship at Harare Polytechnic College from 1987 to 1989 and went back to further my studies from 2002 -2003. I worked in the Ministry of Home Affairs, Department of National Archives of Zimbabwe from June 1990 to September 2006. After 16 years of continuous service at the Archives, I relinquished my position as Acting Chief Librarian and joined National University of Science and Technology in Bulawayo in the city of kings on 2nd October 2006. In June 2008, I was seconded to run the newly established Graduate School of Business Library (GSB) where I am currently working as the GSB Librarian.

Discovering my potential as a writer came about while I was in secondary school. I used to enjoy writing shona poetry which captured the interest of my subject teacher as well as that of my classmates. This interest was watered down by lack of opportunities to publish until late 1990s when I started writing in English for the National Archives newsletter. That experience was a stepping stone. Before this, I used to write a lot in shona until one day I decided to take some of my works to Mai Chisamba. I remember visiting her at the Examinations Branch in Mount Pleasant and my works instantly captured her attention. This visit led to the canned broadcast on ZTV (AM Zimbabwe) of my presentation of one of my shona piece titled “Munhu hunhu” towards end of 1999. That experience was a great motivator. But due to pressure of work at the time I slithered. One day in 2004 some primary school children visited the National Archives to research on one of our national heroes as a school project. It was embarrassing to note that there was very little information available. It was then that I decided to write an article urging Zimbabweans to consider depositing historical material with the Archives. Fortunately it was published in the Herald on 15 September 2004. I followed up on this one with another one which was also published in the same paper on 23 September 2004. A few more others followed suite. That marked the beginning of my relationship with the press.

When I moved to Bulawayo in October 2006, I continued writing and sending my contributions to Chronicle and most of them are published. I enjoy doing this as a public/social service. Sometime in 2007, I received an e-mail from an ex-workmate at National Archives now living abroad who is a renowned author at Storytime informing me about her publications. When I started reading Sarudzayi Chifamba-Barnes’s works on the internet, my interest to write short stories was re-activated. I wrote three which I sent to Ivor W. Hartmann without expecting much out of it. But when he responded inviting me to join storytime authors, I felt like it was a call for me to unleash whatever was hidden under the screen of my intellectual stone. I feel being published on storytime is a result of my retrospective desire to become a writer that I have turned out to be and think that I can express myself much better in poetry. For now I think I will concentrate in this area and will strive to continue writing verses in English and Shona.


sarudzayi barnes said...

A very good story, full of suspense. Well done William. You are promising. The story took me back to my early teenage days, in the village when we used to play hide and seek with boys!

Vesina said...

What an excellent and heartbreaking story full of imaginations, surprises and interesting at the sametime. i enjoyed it and look forward to read more from this author. That was really good, keep it up William you have the patential to excell in the field of writing. God bless

Myne Whitman said...

This was quite long but interesting enough to sustain interest. Well written and with lots of unexpected twists. Nice one...

William Tekede said...

To Sarudzayi: I didn,t know that you could be taken that far back in life. Happy to have envoked good memories of your historical past.

To Vessina: I am really flattered. Thank you.

To Myne Whitman: Happy that you were twisted to remain on track. thank you.

Thank you all for your encouragement. I will strive to try something in the near future for you.

Anonymous said...

lol, watv a romantic u are.Its quite a good story.keep on keeping on .nolan

Vesina said...

What an excellent and heartbreaking story full of imaginations, surprises and interesting at the sametime. i enjoyed it and look forward to read more from this author. That was really good, keep it up William you have the patential to excell in the field of writing. God bless

William Tekede said...

To Sarudzayi: I didn,t know that you could be taken that far back in life. Happy to have envoked good memories of your historical past.

To Vessina: I am really flattered. Thank you.

To Myne Whitman: Happy that you were twisted to remain on track. thank you.

Thank you all for your encouragement. I will strive to try something in the near future for you.

StoryTime: Weekly Fiction by African Writers.
All works published in StoryTime are
Copyrighted ©.
All rights reserved.