Thinking about Bulawayo
Lately, I have been reading fiction that features Bulawayo a lot, starting with Short Writings from Bulawayo II and Long Time Coming, both edited by Jane Morris and published in Bulawayo by amaBooks, to Yvonne Vera's Stone Virgins and Chris Mlalazi's Many Rivers (the latter is set in Johannesburg, but Bulawayo plays a significant part), and now I am reading The Boy Next Door by Irene Sabatini, which gives abundant details about Bulawayo as a setting.
Bulawayo matters to me, especially in my fiction. Since I grew up in Mazvihwa, I had easier access to Bulawayo than Harare. Mine was known as the Harare family, because all my older brothers worked in Harare, but most families in Mototi sent their children to Bulawayo. Even our local bus brought more passengers from Bulawayo than anywhere else, and most of my school mates spent their holidays in Bulawayo, and when they came back, we heard all about it. It was where, for instance, Leni (fictionalized name) escaped to when his uncle said he did not have any money to pay for his O-Level exam fees. There he got work, and when he came back, he showed off his new gadgets, so we all wanted to go to Bulawayo too after graduation.
Then there was the language issue. The Karanga spoken in Mazvihwa shows heavy Ndebele influence, in the words, but most importantly in the pronunciation. Many people spoke the Karanga with a Ndebele accent,vice versa, and one of my brothers was fluent in Ndebele, after years of interacting with a Ndebele woman..... And there were many Ndebele families that had settled permanently in the area as well.
On a very important note, each year, some selected elders from Mazvihwa were sent to Matopo to do some rain rituals. Again, they would always talk about Bulawayo when they came back.
A strong presence of the influence of the Ndebele was seen during ancestral worship,when some family members would be possessed by amandlozi, spirits that spoke Ndebele. The mediums did not know a single word of Ndebele, but when possessed, they, to the best of my knowledge, sounded fluent. Of course, this could have been common too in other places, but the proximity of Mazvihwa to Matebeleland yielded a lot more in terms of a spiritial connection with the province.
For me, Bulawayo became important after A-Level, when the girl I was dating (the concept of dating does not quite fit) moved to Bulawayo. I began to make frequent visits to the city. I even attempted to get a place at Hillside Teachers' College just so I would be in Bulawayo, but that did not work; I got admitted to Gweru Teachers' College instead, and left after only three months to attend the University of Zimbabwe. Occasional visits to Bulawayo continued, and places like Sizinda, Nketa, Mpopoma were my haunts. I was trying to learn the language too, got a good inventory of survival words, befriended students from Bulawayo at the UZ. On a few time times I covered some Bulawayo arts events for The Herald, enjoying the byline: Emmanuel Sigauke in Bulawayo.
What I considered a love for a city then has become a fiction obsession. I have been working on some stories set in Bulawayo, and as I read these books set there, I am regaining an attachment to the city which moves beyond nostalgia. It is a connection, like the creation of a corridor, between the place I grew up in, and the city that fed many a family in that place.
Bulawayo matters to me, especially in my fiction. Since I grew up in Mazvihwa, I had easier access to Bulawayo than Harare. Mine was known as the Harare family, because all my older brothers worked in Harare, but most families in Mototi sent their children to Bulawayo. Even our local bus brought more passengers from Bulawayo than anywhere else, and most of my school mates spent their holidays in Bulawayo, and when they came back, we heard all about it. It was where, for instance, Leni (fictionalized name) escaped to when his uncle said he did not have any money to pay for his O-Level exam fees. There he got work, and when he came back, he showed off his new gadgets, so we all wanted to go to Bulawayo too after graduation.
Then there was the language issue. The Karanga spoken in Mazvihwa shows heavy Ndebele influence, in the words, but most importantly in the pronunciation. Many people spoke the Karanga with a Ndebele accent,vice versa, and one of my brothers was fluent in Ndebele, after years of interacting with a Ndebele woman..... And there were many Ndebele families that had settled permanently in the area as well.
On a very important note, each year, some selected elders from Mazvihwa were sent to Matopo to do some rain rituals. Again, they would always talk about Bulawayo when they came back.
A strong presence of the influence of the Ndebele was seen during ancestral worship,when some family members would be possessed by amandlozi, spirits that spoke Ndebele. The mediums did not know a single word of Ndebele, but when possessed, they, to the best of my knowledge, sounded fluent. Of course, this could have been common too in other places, but the proximity of Mazvihwa to Matebeleland yielded a lot more in terms of a spiritial connection with the province.
For me, Bulawayo became important after A-Level, when the girl I was dating (the concept of dating does not quite fit) moved to Bulawayo. I began to make frequent visits to the city. I even attempted to get a place at Hillside Teachers' College just so I would be in Bulawayo, but that did not work; I got admitted to Gweru Teachers' College instead, and left after only three months to attend the University of Zimbabwe. Occasional visits to Bulawayo continued, and places like Sizinda, Nketa, Mpopoma were my haunts. I was trying to learn the language too, got a good inventory of survival words, befriended students from Bulawayo at the UZ. On a few time times I covered some Bulawayo arts events for The Herald, enjoying the byline: Emmanuel Sigauke in Bulawayo.
What I considered a love for a city then has become a fiction obsession. I have been working on some stories set in Bulawayo, and as I read these books set there, I am regaining an attachment to the city which moves beyond nostalgia. It is a connection, like the creation of a corridor, between the place I grew up in, and the city that fed many a family in that place.
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