Troubles of a Rural Bachelor

picture of a borehole

It was now late in night. In the far distance, I could hear a drum thumping its heart out, punctuated by erratic singing which echoed and reverberated in the night. Chenura. There I lay alone on the tattered sleeping mat in the thatched hut, devoid of blankets. It was seeringly hot.  A sliver of the moon once appeared in a gap on the thatch. But I never saw the beauty of it. For a thousandth time, my thoughts again wandered to what had happened in the afternoon at the local borehole. Shuwa shuwa here, kuti Tariso anondiramba pazere vanhu? “Handitombokuda Joe. Pengera kwawakaroyerwa. Wazvinzwa here iwe rombe rekwaMupakati? Unondipei ipo pawakati mhaa?”, she had loudly said, amid laughter of the many rural people who had come to fetch water. “Ko zvine muto ndozvine…” I did not even finish the sentence, as I felt the cold gush of water onto my face. Aizve, zvakutori kudirwa nhai. ……………. Sleep would not come early.

Sweetness by the Road

picture of beehive close to road

Can you believe this beehive is very close to a very busy road? I would not have believed it myself either had somebody told me without seeing it myself. Actually there are five on the same tree. I will not tell where. Not that I do not trust you. I am quite sure the owner enjoys the sweetness of the honey without bothering about thieves harvesting where they did not sow.  I remember hearing a lot of stories told of misfortune that befell somebody who stole honey from someone’s beehive…