archive - issue 18

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  • 10 Characters

    By Anton Krueger
    Nurse Marie Her lapel is a little faded and her lipstick slightly smudged in the corner of her mouth. “It’s an easy job,” she
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  • A Cry for Help

    By Ross Fleming
    I come from a long line of great worriers. My earliest memory is of Father, the morning paper spread out before him, tearing his
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  • A selection from a series of polaroids and paintings "We are Definitely Heroes" that calls into question our self-obsessed nature through the lens of
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  • a perspective

    By Lucca Munnik
    she’s a contradiction:anxious yet fierce andchallenging yet sensitive. she carries emotions that she hides from people,but then bluntly spurts them out when it gets
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    • POETRY
  • A shortish life in 15 shortish paragraphs   1.       Birth From the start it was all hard work. Later her blue-eyed brothers and sisters made
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  • All the World

    By Jeannie Wallace McKeown
    Hours spent dreaming herself a role in an infinite movie reel of lives; string theory says she’s living them; somewhere she moved to a
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    • POETRY
  • Commuting in Jozi

    Coming from Polokwane, a small town in Limpopo, Johannesburg is a big city to me. It is a congested, confusing, concrete jungle compared to
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  • Constellations

    By Caitlin Stobie
    For Ryan   We were meant to be characters: two queer geeks with a Tarot set.   Setting: the day of the velveteen stage,
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    • POETRY
  • de-identified

    By Kirsten Stolle
    de-identified examines the impact of facial recognition technology on individual privacy.  Using augmented portraits of 19th century women and an imagined narrative, de-identified explores how
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  • do you

    By Anton Krueger
    do you also hold your breath in movies when a character’s drowning, to see if you can outlast them? do you also miss those
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    • POETRY
  • gogogo is in love

    By esethu esethu
    REMEMBERING HERE an excerpt from "A Long Story Short", an unpublished novella   It was not always as contaminated, the nature of the resentments
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  • Hugh Hervey Walker

    By Molly Walker
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  • I am very angry

    By James Chapangara Mugabe
     Part 1 - Introduction Please let me rant! I am angry, very angry! I am angry with you Comrades Ja! Ek is gatvol! Ini ndakadumbirwa
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    • POETRY
  • I doodled your name by force

    By Naggayi Lydia Sanyu
    I doodled your name by force. Yes please. I was not going to be that girl who'd pass through her teenage years without ever
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  • It is

    By Kyle Allan
    It is.   It is a ball surrounded by lightning and the mercy of cosmic rays being hurled through space, again and again finding
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    • POETRY
  • Joseph: Starlin

    By Joseph Claassen
    Joseph: Starlin He rolls up on me while I’m whatsapping calls softly from the side to not scare meout here in the city’s dukderma man
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    • POETRY
  • Kinoti's Flower Bud

    By Michael Thuo
    A green writer is one in constant motion. This motion is in the state of mind: seeking ideas, inspiration and appealing to the yet
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  • La femme obscur

    By Lunette Elle Warren
    She’s a natural brunette. She has an incurable case of Resting Bitch Face. She’s a poet. She’s a dirt road that stretches into the
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    • POETRY
  • 1.   I hid in the church after they left. Some of the stained glass had been broken, and the plain sunlight bled into
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  • Meeting Kasiobi

    By Mariam Sule
    Few things have evoked my empathy like the evening I spent with a beautiful man named Kasiobi who has lost an ability that I
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  • Mostly about a Beetle

    By Anthea Garman
    Ken’s red beetle 1963 – I am three years old. I pose against the beetle in the way I have seen my mother do. Fat
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  • Mountain Heart

    By Maria Kjartans
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  • My Grandmother's Name

    By Louella Sullivan
    In her 70s the rigid clack of a label maker stamped out her neat name to be stuck spirit-level straight on cupboards, Tupperware, biscuit
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    • POETRY
  • Nairobi Is A Quick Lover

    By Waiganjo Ndirangu
    First flash: a business-bright billboard smile; A suit far too neat for the jam on Jogoo Road; A suit too well knit, too well
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    • POETRY
  • There’s an old proverbial postulate that the commercial competitive market model seeks to create the best possible goods at the lowest possible prices (now,
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  • Image Gallery Character resonating out hard into the environs: with physical manifestations in Heaven and Earth; for better or worse; meteorologically, geologically, technologically; synthesising
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  • The Garden's Memory

    By Louella Sullivan
    A garden is harder than a marriage you can’t throw sex or wine at it to pacify the wilderness that threatens.   A garden
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    • POETRY
  • The Gathering

    By Emmanuel Uweru Okoh
      Now I ask... What do you see? Eyes with shades of variedness Eyes of diverse vision A hundred feet in this room A
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    • POETRY
  • The prisoner

    By Carla Chait
    The clink-clink of chains along the corridor of area 354 is indicative of the approach of a prisoner. A prisoner is approaching and I
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  • The Running Man

    By Theodore Senene
    If you happened to be seated in the third coach of the 10 o'clock train heading west,  watching the luscious green countryside flash by,
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  • By the time they reached one hundred kilometres outside Kamieskroon, on the way to Cape Town, the rhythmic tikketu-tikketu of train meeting track had
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Friday, 30 September 2016 18:39

I am very angry

 Part 1 - Introduction

Please let me rant!

I am angry, very angry!

I am angry with you Comrades

Ja! Ek is gatvol!

Ini ndakadumbirwa nehasha ini!

So, please, let me rant and blow off steam

If it burns you, you are standing on my face

If it warms you, heats you up, find your voice and blow off your steam


Part 2 – You promised equality Bwana

Once, we were lorded over by the colonialist

And to him we were subjects and objects

Only there to serve his corporal purposes

But you convinced us that we were people

And that in independent Afrika we would all be Bwana

Bwana of our lives, if only we worked with our hands and minds

So we sang “Ishe komborera Afrika, Nkosi sikelel’ iAfrika

And we heeded when you called us to turn guns to plough shares

Little did we know that you meant our guns, and not yours

And when you promised it, we delivered forgiveness to the oppressor

Yes, it was us, who withheld our anger and retribution

Allowing you to lull us with a Truth and Reconciliation Commission

But where is the truth and where is the reconciliation?

Or did you forget oh, comrade, that we too, sought equality?

Equality for all, man and woman, friend and foe

Parity for master and servant, buyer and seller

Rain for the weak and the strong, and the soil short and the tall

Did you forget dear comrade; did you forget?

That it was so that no man's fate would be decided by another

That we took matters into our own hands and went into the bush


Part 3 – But you delivered “Animal Farm”

Or was the equality that you sought only equality for you?

Like George Orwell's “Animal Farm”

You became more equal than others

And like them, you started to live in their big houses

And sleep on beds with sheets, walking on two legs

You started drinking with them and like them

You dined, and dressed, and talked, and walked with them, and like them

And you forgot us, and our shared dream of Uhuru

And our zangata, our shared chibuku and umqombothi

And you avoid our potholed ghettoes like you would a plague


Part 4 - Want what we wanted

In this day and age every man and woman should want the same thing

That is the ability to do for one's self as one's self wishes

Is that not what freedom and independence is?

That if I want to work and build my house, or feed my children,

Or meet with people of a similar mind, I should be able to do it

Unlike in the times when I needed a piece of paper

Or the indulgence of another, for me to be

But no, you have dragged us back comrade

To the dark days of Lords and Masters who lorded over us

Denying that we were human, a people like them

We applauded you when you said we are a people

Little did we know that you thought yourself to be a god

Yes, those who praise you have even said you are the son of God

And that you will rule until God himself returns

As for us, we are your supporters if we agree

And stooges and puppets of the colonial man if we do not!

Only you have to right, to power, and to authority


Part 5 - Our missing mandate

Once upon a time we actually had love and pride for you

And those who pointed out your weakness and wickedness

We silenced them as enemies and detractors of the new nation

When we chose you to lead us, and to govern us

Our mandate to you, was to establish a government

That would look after our common dreams and goals

With rules and laws were meant to govern and protect our relationships

And yet you chose to rule us

You established a rule-ment not a govern-ment

Where daily you make rules to further entrench your power


You have abandoned our mandate, and you do not seek to please us

What we want or do not want is of no consequence to you anymore

You lavish rewards, awards and luxuries upon yourself and your cronies

Our hard won independence is yours and yours alone

With our hard-earned monies you build Nkandla, Zvimba and the Brooke

We chose you to judge disputes between and among us

And yet today our dispute is with you

How are you going to be the accused, the judge and the jury all in one?


Part 6 - Lost generations

Comrade, many generations have been lost to the times

Generations of Afrika were lost to the illiteracy and ignorance of the dark ages

Many more generations were lost to slavery and the slave trade

And yet others were lost to religious zealotry that wiped away our history and heritage

Colonialism, apartheid and other injustices that the colonial man poured on our land

Yes, we lost generations fighting the colonial men

Remember Mandela's 27 years in a white man's prison, on an island away from his people

And you comrade, and comrades, the days, moons and years similarly fated

And even when the war against the colonial man was ended

With our own hands we lost generations in that bloody transition to rediscovering ourselves

In South Africa our people killed one another in the name of tribe and political party

In Zimbabwe, Gukurahundi sends shivers down the spines of many

Cold blooded atrocities visited on their kith and kin

And the new millennium brought with it political violence and villains


Part 7 - Where shall we belong?

Even today we see the uniformed men in blue and black boots

Clothed with our tax monies and roadside fines and bribes

Like hounds that have smelt blood, shut to reason

As a boot, black, and a button, black, from a man, black

Land on the black backside of an old granny, black

Are we going to be yet, another lost generation?

Who will not belong! And who might never belong?

How can we belong to a country that butchers us?

How can they belong to a country that criminalise us?

How can we belong to a country you run like you own?

Or to a country you have sold to the men from the east?

Many of us now scrounge as aliens in foreign lands

With no right to vote both home and abroad

And yet our sweat and our money oil your politics

And you claim, like Ian Douglas Smith, that last colonial man

That we are too happy and “blessed” to have you


Part 8 – I am still angry…

I am angry, and very, very angry

Ek is baie gatvol

Ini ndakadumbirwa nehasha!
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James Chapangara Mugabe

I am a 34 year old Zimbabwean who has resided mostly in South Africa for the past ten years.