By Takura Zhangazha*
In 1998 I had to undertake a research project for a course
called Theory and Practice of Public Policy for my undergraduate studies. I had decided that I would do it on the
Bikita Rural District Council budgeting processes because since its my rural district I knew I would have the
relevant support from both my parents’ families for my basic necessities. I had also saved some money from what we
sort of still had in the form of government student payouts/grants to cover any
other ancillary costs.
In my over enthusiasm at a semblance of material independence
, I had boarded the wrong bus to Bikita. It
was a Mhunga transport services one. On the front it was labelled as travelling
to Gutu/Mupandawana and Nyika growth points with equal prominence. What I had not seen between the lines was the
fact that it was going to pass through Bhasera, then Mupamaonde on the
Masvingo-Mutare highway and finally to Nyika growth point.
So the bus arrived in Gutu and took a turn that I was not
familiar with on the Bhasera road. In
slight panic I asked the bus conductor how we were going to get to Nyika and he
laughed at me but also assured me that I need not worry and that I would arrive at
Nyika growth point by late afternoon. By
the time we got to Mupamaonde the surroundings were much more familiar and I
disembarked from the bus before it made its U-turn to Nyika. I then boarded a
kombi service run by a former Member of Parliament called Matimba that plied
the Masvingo-Birchenough bridge route and safely arrived at home a number of
hours later than anticipated.
In my satchel though I carried two specific novels besides
my hardcover note-writing books. These were Bessie Head’s, ‘A Question of Power’
and Steve Biko’s collection of essays titled ‘I Write What I Like’. I had carried these two books with me because
I knew with at least two weeks of seeking out research and no electricity at
home in Tamirepi village I would need to occupy time. And I thought it best to do so by
reading.
I had purchased the two books from Kingston’s bookstore with
University of Zimbabwe book prize vouchers.
And while in Bikita it rained the proverbial cats and dogs. So I was
stuck and my only solace was the fact that I could read Head’s ‘Sello’
character with curiosity and also dabble in a new consciousness via Biko’s
forthright black consciousness.
After at least two days of rain and reading, I again boarded
a Mhunga bus to Nyika growth-point and lo and behold my paternal uncle was on
the same bus to collect his teacher’s salary from the bank or building
society. I explained to him why I was home and he actively
encouraged that I at least read and pass my university courses and help others
in the family once I had done so.
At Nyika growth point, we parted ways for some hours. He went to the bank and I went to the satellite
office of the Bikita Rural District Council.
We met later for the last (you guessed it, Mhunga) bus service from Bulawayo on its way to Mutare and
given the fact that I had Biko’s book in hand he asked me what I was
reading. I explained that I was reading
for the fun of it on South African liberation politics and he said it’s a good
thing that I was seeking knowledge via reading books. Though he didn’t quite understand how it
would help with the research I was claiming to be undertaking. I dropped off at Mushuku bus top while he
went on to the Chibvumani drop off point.
And again I spent the next week compiling my research notes but also
reading Head and Biko.
I have been elaborate about this because the two books I
read in that period helped me combine idealism and reality. Both in a rural and black consciousness sense. And my bus ride conversations with my uncle
made more nuanced the perspectives from which to think about not only my then geographical
locality but also recognize the key historical challenges of Zimbabwe, global humanity
and future African generations (which I considered myself to be part of at that
time).
But all of this would never have crossed my mind if I did
not have those two books in my satchel. With
hindsight, it is clear to me that reading them, even under candlelight,
clarified my understanding of not only where I was, but also what I valued the
most about Zimbabwean society.
Admittedly Bessie Head was much more difficult to read and understand
than Biko but both gave searing insights into the African condition.
In contemporary Zimbabwe, books are now regrettably frowned upon. Particularly books written by African writers
that are not always focused on ‘poverty porn’.
Young people are encouraged to read those books that make them pass
exams or biographies of individuals that they will never mimic in real life
that became multi-billionaires (even after dropping out of tertiary
colleges).
Be that as it may, libraries, bookstores remain objective key
nodes of organic knowledge acquisition and dissemination. And we should always actively encourage young
Zimbabweans to be comfortable with reading a book. After all when they watch movies on streaming
platforms or dabble in social media a majority of what they consume always
comes from the written word. In the form of an essay, novel or script.
*Takura Zhangazha writes here in his personal capacity
(takura-zhangazha.blogspot.com)