Rudo Muzondo: "Inside the hotel room, a soft golden light cast a warm glow over the rich wooden accents. The air was filled with an inviting subtle scent, befitting the opulent textures of the room."
Rudo Muzondo: "The airport was filled with unseen faces, people were operating on autopilot, hustling and bustling with their luggage. Drowning in the crowd, being so used to getting attention, Kenny felt invisible, like he was just a shadow in the crowd, noone noticed him."
Rudo Muzondo: "I was frozen for a moment, not breathing just seated still like a tombstone, my mother’s sermons echoing loud in my conscience. Giving my pearls to Tsunami was almost inevitable, a collateral damage to my quest for a brighter future. Though I liked him, I wasn’t ready to fall in love with him, finding love wasn't a priority, that wasn't the reason why I had crossed the border."
By Rudo Muzondo
I let go of Tsunami's embrace, retained my composure and smiled warmly at the old woman, pointing where I had seen the restroom signs. For a few seconds, she didn't blink a bit, she cast an enigmatic gaze at me.
Her gaze was worth ten pages of a dialogue, the fleeting glimmer in her eyes was almost liquid. Though her words were restrained, she spoke a great deal of counsel, I listened to what she wasn’t saying, yet I heard her loud and clear.
Before she surrendered her gaze, she blinked twice and I saw my own mother staring back at me through her eyes. In that instant, I knew the nature of her debt, a mother's intuition. I lost my balance and my feet faltered a bit as I tried to recollect my decorum.
"Are you alright?", Tsunami muttered as he pulled me firmly closer to him.
Rudo Muzondo: "Tsunami took an obsessive interest in me, he called every day, and he kept insisting that I join him in South Africa, but I wasn’t interested. In the end, the more we spoke the closer we got and I found myself in a ‘Situationship’. I couldn’t qualify or dignify us to relationship status because I wasn’t in love with him, though I liked him."
At a recent public function, the opening of The Sprout Restaurant in Harare, we saw former First Lady Grace Mugabe moving within the same orbit as senior ZANU PF figures, her presence neither resisted nor theatrically embraced.
In this second and final part of the article, I continue to examine the potential outcomes of ZANU-PF’s succession politics, focusing on whether Kudakwashe Tagwirei (whom I metaphorically refer to as “Mamvura”) will succeed in his presumed bid for the presidency, whether General Constantino Chiwenga will recover his political standing and take over, whether someone else will ascend to the throne, and whether President Mnangagwa will ultimately retire in peace.
Rutendo Benson Matinyarare, long celebrated as the chief acoustics engineer of Zimbabwe’s most delicate economic sculpture, the ZiG—now appears to have discovered an inconvenient truth: even the most beautifully crafted clay cow cannot moo indefinitely without cracking.
