Shelves empty on account of price reductions. Please come in. Is what it should say on our supermarket doors. Sorry, I meant to say markets. Because they lost the 'super' a long time ago.
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Empty shelves, 'millions' marching. It must be the festive season. But the only millions that march in Zimbabwe are the many zeroes that militarily parade from your pocket to the till on a daily basis. And the only thing that this season will be doing is festering.
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Sometimes the word is the best weapon against silence and suffering. We have been word hustlers, makorokoza emashoko. Taking the word to the many corners of Southern Africa. Just over a month ago I was spitting poetic fire at the Poetry Africa Festival, Durban. From there we carried the word in a car as we stubbornly drove it one thousand kilometres from Harare to Gaberone. We presented our word to our our Batswana word warriors at the Infinite Word Festival where I spat words of murambatsvina-resilience-worm sellers-structural adjustment. And Josh, Zimbabwe's beautiful bass player, coated the word in a web of bass strings. Our spoken word-bass duet incited the crowd of 500. The word had been spat and understood. It was an unashamed kwerekwere word, barefoot and illegal. But it was truth.
We then rushed the word through borders and roadblocks so that it could be re-born in Harare's Book Cafe at the launch of MAGAMBA! our new network of spoken word activists and creative rebels. A movement of Zimbabwean artists that organises the most cutting-edge spoken word performances. Where the word is rebellious and free. MAGAMBA! 'Our Word Is Our Weapon'
The word rested. There was a power cut. And an attempt at a rain storm. It didn't work though as most of the prospective rain drops were in a ZINWA queue to pay their water bills after their water was disconnected.
The word woke up. To a breakfast of bread memories and long life milk that had lived long before and only left a good-looking box. Now we carry the word to South Africa where MAGAMBA! is organising MAKE SOME NOISE! A festival for freedom in Zimbabwe. Then the word boards a train for Cape Town and will let loose on Long Street. In a bar. Where it's noisy. And all you can hear is the word.
See www.comradefatso.com for gig details
South Africa was fire. From the insane buzz of the Arts Alive Festival to the entrancing chants of Tswana word warrior, Kgafela wa Magogodi. From the melting pot of Durban to the power of the word in squalid townships. From putting finishing touches to a master piece album to being in the presence of poetry icon, Dennis Brutus. From spitting word fire about the ruling elites of Zim and Ndazo to connecting with poets speaking truths from all corners of the world. South Africa was fire.
