Oh Zimbabwe, I sense you.

March 7, 2010

When I close my eyes I see Zimbabwe. In my mind’s eye I see my home. When I see Zimbabwe I see beauty that escapes the grasp of the words of this language. I see brother helping brother, I see mother and daughter united in fetching the water, as she passes years of wisdom and experience down from one generation to another. I see the splendour of the African sun hung against the canopy of the Matopos.  I see hope. I see integrity and dignity on the faces of honest men trying to make a living. I see light at the end of this most treacherous tunnel that has consumed so many and scarred even more. I see new life and I am amazed at the power of the creator to endow us with the power to make a difference.

When I open my ears I hear Zimbabwe. In listening I capture the very familiar sound of home. When I hear Zimbabwe I hear laughter. I hear a people that are jubilant in adversity and thankful in difficulty. I hear the lowing of the cattle at the crack of dawn and the declaration of the rooster that a new day has come. I hear the sound of the water of the Zambezi crashing against the rocks that the Mashona used to erect the Great Zimbabwe. I hear the cry for freedom in the roaring of the thunder and the quenching of the thirst of the land in the fall of the rain. I hear the sound of a nation ready to progress.

When I close my eyes I touch Zimbabwe. As I rub my hands together I feel the hand of my fellow countrymen. When I stretch out my hand I hold in them the wealth of our nation that is the soil of the ground. This land that is the womb out of which our emancipation shall come. When I touch the seed of ground I touch the promise of a brighter Zimbabwe, I touch the source of sustenance that Mwari gave into our trust to cultivate and grow. As I walk through her fields I touch the leaves of the crops that will end hunger and see a people freed from the desperation of the day.

When I am still my nose catches the scent of Zimbabwe. I catch the conspicuous scent of the jacaranda leaves as I walk down the aged streets of my country. This scent that welcomes me into Harare and distinguishes this city where Kaguvi gave his life so that I could live mine in freedom. I smell the anticipation of a brighter tomorrow, this expectation is pregnant in the atmosphere and etched in blood on the hearts of the men I call fathers. I smell the sweat of women who slave away in order to give their offspring a brighter future and I am arrested by the conviction that a day is coming when we have peace that lasts.

When I prepare my meal I taste Zimbabwe. In my hunger I indulge in the pleasures for the tongue that my home offers. I taste the freshly cooked sadza ne muboora that has been prepared on the fire in my village. I taste the fruit of the muuyu tree and I enjoy a sip of maheu as I enjoy the shade under the msasa. In all this I taste more. I taste the blood of the sons and daughters of the soil who believed so in the ideals of equality that they sacrificed their own lives to pass the inheritance to generations to come.  I taste the pain of the mothers who have buried sons to AIDS and daughters who have been violated by those they trusted. I taste victory. I taste the undeniable taste of prosperity for all the peoples of this great land.

My name is Munyaradzi Hoto and I am a Zimbabwean.


One Response to “Oh Zimbabwe, I sense you.”

  1. noma Says:

    munya i sooo love this … i am so proud to be zimbabwean 2… i see i hear, i feel and i smell all this. ZIMBABWE A GREAT COUNTRY

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