Mbare

I was introduced to Mbare, formally, at the age of 10. It so happened that I was called from kumusha to spend an August school holiday in Matapi, Mbare.

My response was an admixture of fear, doubt and excitement. The excitement was, I would be away from looking after cattle and goats for a whole month. It also meant that when schools were opened in September, I would write a different composition about how I spent the holiday. My fear and doubt were that I was going to a place known for different nuisances - street rowdiness, poor housing structures in certain sections, to mention but a few.

The name 'Matapi' was not well accepted by mind. Matapi is a name of some mice that live in wetlands. From my grandfather's vlei garden, matapi had a record of cutting down sugarcane and other crops that we grew. I preferred going to Highfield, Glen Norah, Glen View, Warren Park, Sunningdale, Kambuzuma, etc. But Mbare, here I was coming. The room I came to stay in was something like 6m X 8m in area. During those days, both the room and corridors were very well lit. The primus stove was commonplace for heating and cooking purposes.

In these hostels, it was common experience to hear all sorts of musics from so many radios - Mtukudzi, Dembo, Baba Manyeruke, Brian Sibalo, and so many other programmes. It was a cacophony of audio experiences. There were some 18 rooms in our second-floor wing. In one corner, there was a room where the family never spent three days without members fighting. The 'married' couple there would threaten each other with pouring hot and boiling oil especially on the man. I just didn't come to like these life-threatening threats.

There were stories of young boys and girls who had been in probation and were back to the hostels, and seemingly unrepentant. There were stories about some who were ever into glue-sniffing. Our block would also attract orderly churches like the Salvation Army. They would come play their drum, tambourines and guitar and we would enjoy seeing them in their nice uniforms, well pressed.

At the frontend of the block, facing the road, there was a city council beerhall. At the door was a sign inscribed 'NO UNDER 18'. It was at this place, where, at the age of 10, I learnt to enterprise. One day, after I had visited my uncle who stayed in Braeside, I found my mum and her elder sister with an announcement: "We found you a job!" They explained to me that there was no point them failing to raise money to buy bread when we (my two cousins and I) all who had recently come to be in the room, were there. They educated me that, in fact, Cousin M and Cousin A had already started. I was introduced to the enterprise. In a few days, my cousins and their mother left Mbare.

For the remainder of the holiday, there I was selling, this time by myself. Early in the morning to late evening, I was a money-making machine. At 11 or 12 pm, I was counting cents, 5 cents, 10 cents, 20 cents, 50 cents, 1 dollars and a few notes that I had gathered in the course of the day. I became Mama's more lovely boy. When the holiday was coming to an end, mama persuaded me to stay and learn in Mbare. I refused. Mbare is a great place.

In consecutive years to come, and whenever I said I was going to Harare, Mbare was my home. This was solidified by the two years; I had to spend doing my 'A' Level at Harare High School. The school is in 3rd Street. There are many other roads in the township - Mushongandebvu, Daniel, Machingura, 4th, etc. There are many hostels in Mbare - Nenyere, Shawasha, Mbare, Matererini, Tagarika and, of course, Matapi.

A deep nostalgia about Mbare, with its underlying experience cross my mind every time I close my eyes to think about it.

#unedited