“I left my heart in Zimbabwe…”

It was 7:00 pm on a Wednesday evening and I was sitting on the train having one of my usual contemplative moments. I was really exhausted because I had spent the whole day discussing the economy with the white collars of Toronto. Hence, it didn’t take long for me to fall into a little fatigue hallucination.

I began to see myself as a little boy in Zimbabwe once again, running free-spiritedly under the hypnosis of scintillating wildflower scents. I could even see the sunset beautifying the heavens with its aura, creating a blanket of vibrant colors that were unfortunately going to be devoured by the evening darkness.

“Maruva, Maruva, come back home!” a voice echoed in the distance. It was my grandmother. I quickly dashed home and was greeted by the mesmerizing aroma of the food she had prepared for us.

(God I miss her…)

Unfortunately, my moment of reminiscence was short-lived because the sirens of the train started to wail endlessly, as if to announce that the world had finally reached the 11th hour. I then walked out of the train feeling extremely depressed because it dawned to me that I really miss my country.

I understand that Zimbabwe is in the middle of political turmoil but I still find myself yearning to go back. I have a feeling doing that will help me  piece myself together. That perhaps instead of being a fragmented mosaic, I will become a unified person with a solid identity. But then leaving Canada means that  I am essentially quitting my search for the North Star of success.

So once again, I am drowning in my own thoughts and I do not know which one of them to embrace.

(Sigh…)

"I Dance"

The rains have forsaken us, madness has prevailed among the people,

And the curse of the western gods still lurks within the forests.

My country is weeping.

Here I am, dancing for this land, the sanctuary of my people;

With as much spirit as a mocking bird singing endlessly in the heat of the sun.

The music of the pulsating drums is washing away the dust from my soul,

And I can feel the wind around me, whispering softly as I reach for the skies.

I will continue dancing to chase the angels of death away;

To revive the spirits of the Motherland that had been doomed to suffer under his rule.

I will not stop until my very last breathe.

BAYETHE!

P.S-“Bayethe” is an old African expression used especially in times of celebration. 

-It was quite common after the release of Nelson Mandela, as South Africans celebrated his release.

PP.S-The young man in the image is not me (although I have indulged in African traditional dance before).

"Maruva"

Interestingly, my middle name Maruva, means "blooming flower." This is quite ironic because my life doesn't possess the beauty and perfection of a blooming flower. It's almost as if I'm rather a flower being devoured by a voracious worm, or one withering helplessly under the scorching heat of the sun.

I don't know if a "renaissance of the soul" awaits me; nevertheless, I will continue holding on to my petals, praying that they won't get blown away....

"The River"

I stand before these angry waters,

Hoping for some kind of magical ascent to help me cross.
I cannot even see my reflection because these waters are flowing vigorously,
As if possessed by Zephyrus, the Great God of the Winds.

I did cross them once,
When our love carried us through all that is hurtful.
But now you're gone, cast within the depths of his evasive shadows.
All I have left are memories of your seductive smile, golden eyes, and mesmerizing scent.

I tried yelling out to the heavens pleading for your return;
But was only responded by Mother Nature’s Song.
Now my heart bleeds endlessly and the darkness is devouring my soul;
Without any light to guide me across.