Mubvakure's First Sentence
It's the day for first sentences. I just received my copy of Sarudzai Mubvakure's novel A Disappointing Truth. So while we are still on the subject of first sentences, let's read Mubvakure's: "A young girl ran terrified through the bushes because she knew she was running for her life."
If you grew up where I grew up, you will remember that sights of running kids were common. Picture this: A kid zips by, and all you hear is the heavy breathing, then...the child is gone! Before long a sprinting and angry adult shoots by, but he (it was always a he)is much slower than the child, but he is not showing signs of giving up any time soon: a heavy beating (they call it a whooping here) will catch up with the child. If you wait long enough, say thirty minutes, two hours perhaps, you will see them again, this time with the adult lumbering ahead while the child behind trots in total submission and fear.
That's what we meant by "it takes a village to raise a child" because even though you saw that the child had been thrashed, you were still aware that some more beating, the real deal, would happen at home, and you let them pass by, perhaps even return the adult's nod or detailed greeting, sometimes even listened to the cause of this cat-and-mouse, but dared not suggest that the adult leave the child alone, unless his eyes showed that he was going to kill somebody. In a few cases, you wouldn't even let a child zip by if you noticed that a slower adult was panting after him or her. You could, if you were old enough, help a little bit, shorten the misery of a fellow adult chasing after a child in the whole village. You just grabbed your own Mupane whip, and you knew what to do next, then you would ask questions later. That's what we meant by "it takes a village", not what Hillary Clinton means...
But the child in Mubvakure's novel is not running away from a caring adult, nor is she running from the village to the village even. Mabvakure's girl is running away, and must be left alone to continue running, from a molester. Let's see what's on page two, any random sentence:
"A few yards behind her, the man was racing through the bush and angrily mattered under his breath 'You black slut.'" Ouch!
So now I have two new books to read: the 167 pages of Toni Morrison's A Mercy, and the 718 pages of Sarudzai Mubvakure's Disappointing Truth. In Morrison's novel we are told not to be afraid, in Mubvakure we are afraid and should be. In Morrison we are taken to 17th century America, and we anticipate slavery, rape, injustice; in Mubvakure we are transported to the Declared Rhodesia of the 70s, so we anticipate war, rape, injustice, slavery.
But still, "don't be afraid", just read....
If you grew up where I grew up, you will remember that sights of running kids were common. Picture this: A kid zips by, and all you hear is the heavy breathing, then...the child is gone! Before long a sprinting and angry adult shoots by, but he (it was always a he)is much slower than the child, but he is not showing signs of giving up any time soon: a heavy beating (they call it a whooping here) will catch up with the child. If you wait long enough, say thirty minutes, two hours perhaps, you will see them again, this time with the adult lumbering ahead while the child behind trots in total submission and fear.
That's what we meant by "it takes a village to raise a child" because even though you saw that the child had been thrashed, you were still aware that some more beating, the real deal, would happen at home, and you let them pass by, perhaps even return the adult's nod or detailed greeting, sometimes even listened to the cause of this cat-and-mouse, but dared not suggest that the adult leave the child alone, unless his eyes showed that he was going to kill somebody. In a few cases, you wouldn't even let a child zip by if you noticed that a slower adult was panting after him or her. You could, if you were old enough, help a little bit, shorten the misery of a fellow adult chasing after a child in the whole village. You just grabbed your own Mupane whip, and you knew what to do next, then you would ask questions later. That's what we meant by "it takes a village", not what Hillary Clinton means...
But the child in Mubvakure's novel is not running away from a caring adult, nor is she running from the village to the village even. Mabvakure's girl is running away, and must be left alone to continue running, from a molester. Let's see what's on page two, any random sentence:
"A few yards behind her, the man was racing through the bush and angrily mattered under his breath 'You black slut.'" Ouch!
So now I have two new books to read: the 167 pages of Toni Morrison's A Mercy, and the 718 pages of Sarudzai Mubvakure's Disappointing Truth. In Morrison's novel we are told not to be afraid, in Mubvakure we are afraid and should be. In Morrison we are taken to 17th century America, and we anticipate slavery, rape, injustice; in Mubvakure we are transported to the Declared Rhodesia of the 70s, so we anticipate war, rape, injustice, slavery.
But still, "don't be afraid", just read....
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