TALKING BONES

A short story by Maxwell Perkins Kanemanyanga

Dateline: November 20 1999...

The sun is shining, the weather is fine. It is 19 years since Rhodesia became a free country Zimbabwe. Nyanga a district situated in the Eastern part of Zimbabwe witnessed a lot of bloodshed during the liberation struggle. Many families lost their loved ones, sons and daughters. Some crossed the border to neighbouring
Mozambique to become freedom fighters and they never came back home.

In the small village of Sanhani there was a place called Nyamuchuwa where more than ten young girls and boys including freedom fighters perished after a tip off by one of the villagers. This is one painful day that

all the villagers will never forget.

Chidoo and her young sister Shamiso went to the bush to look for firewood. The only place they could get dry wood was up close to the hill. Only aged fifteen and ten they were young and full of life.

Chido as the elder sister went inside the bush and told her young sister to wait outside. Just in the middle of the bush there was one big dry branch lying on the ground. Chido started breaking the small branches whilst singing and whistling. “Ndibatsireiwo ndatambura kwenguwa refu, ndinoda kuenda kumusha kwedu ndinozorora. [Please help

me; I have suffered for many years. I want to go home to my family and

rest.]" Chido looked around but could not see anyone. She continued

with her work and the voice started again. Again she looked around but

there was no one. The third time she saw where the voice was coming

from. Under the big branch were scattered bones and a skull that is

where the voice was coming from.

Till date, Chido does not remember how she ran out of the small bush and grabbed
her young sister. When she woke up she was in the arms of her shocked mother. The time she got home she fainted and when she woke up half
 The family had gathered as a result of the screams of her panicking
 mother. Everyone wanted to know what terrified her to the extent of

fainting. She could not talk; it took her a long time to get her

voice. When she finally did she narrated what she saw and heard. Her

family could not believe it, how could this be true? Anyway they send

message to the elders of the village who in turn informed the chief.

The chief assembled the best spirit mediums from his kingdom and

together they went to Nyamuchuwa to see the talking bones.


Ziwanani was twenty years old when he left school to join the war.

Just like any young man of his age he had high hopes for his future

and country. After two years of guerilla training in Mozambique he was

posted back to then Rhodesia in the Eastern region, Nyanga district

specifically. November 20 1979 Ziwanai was at Nyamuchuwa when tragedy

struck. There were times when freedom fighters or better known as

guerillas or [magandanga] asked the villagers to organize for them all

night long parties that were better known as pungwe. On this night

villagers will slaughter chicken and goats for them sometimes there

will be home brewed beer. The young boys and girls will help out with

taking the food from the homesteads to the base where the freedom

fighters would be based. After eating they would sing and dance

liberation songs all night long. When it was midnight the villagers

and freedom fighters were ambushed. It was a very dark night but the

Rhodesian army brought search lights that made the night look like

day. They started firing randomly on the partying villagers and

Guerilla fighters. It was chaos all over people crying and screaming,

some running for cover, and some dropping dead on the spot. Ziwanai

started running to the nearby hill where he could hide in the bush.

Unfortunately he could not make it to the hill; he was shot twice on

the right leg and right shoulder. All he could manage to do was drag

himself inside the bush where he bled to death. Later on the

villagers learnt that it was one of them who sold out to the Rhodesian

army. They took all his family away because they knew the villagers

would kill them once they found that he caused the death of more than

ten girls, boys and freedom fighters.


When the spirit mediums brought by the chief came, they took elders

from Nyamuchuwa and the young girl Chido to show them the spot. When

they got to the spot they performed rituals to call the spirit of the

deceased. This was meant to let the spirit enter one of them and

communicate with them. It was indeed Ziwanai; his family was in

Chipinge about 200 km from Nyamuchuwa. He narrated to them where he

came from and how he ended up here. The chief talked to businessmen in

the area to help them with transport. They collected all the loose

bones wrapped them in a blanket and put them in the vehicle. It took

them hours to drive around the mountains to Chipinge and when they

finally got there they went to a local school to ask for directions to

Ziwanai's family. Teachers from the school instructed one boy who was

actually the neighbour to show them. He took them to a homestead that

had two huts. One of them that looked like the kitchen had no door,

there was an empty drum that was used as a door. The old lady was

sitting under a mango tree right in the middle of the yard. She had

aged before her time, primarily due to poverty but also thinking of

her son who went to war but never came back. God only gave three

children, two boys and a girl. Of the two boys one went to war and the

other one died of aids. The girl got married but it never worked so

she came back with her two sons.

They parked their vehicle at the back of the yard. The elders and spirit mediums were the first to go. Mama Ziwanai welcomed the strangers, who quickly introduced themselves. After greetings and drinking some water they narrated their story to the poor old woman.

She started crying like a baby. “Ziwanai mwanangu chawakafira chiiko ,

inga tinongotambura wani! Mwanangu wakandirwadzisa , asi nhasi ndaona

mabhonzo ako ndofa zvangu.[ Ziwanai my poor son , you sacrificed your

life for what? We still suffer like before, we go to bed without food.

But now that i have seen your bones i can finally rest in peace.]" She

had long resigned to the fact that her son was dead but seeing his

bones wrapped in a blanket was a great relief to her. Villagers

started gathering one by one and the word of Ziwanai bones spread like

veld fire. It was indeed a mystery to them whoever heard of talking

bones? Not to be missed where the politicians from Chipinge district.

" Cde Gama , come and see this!", Kademo the member of parliament for

Chipinge took out Manica gazette and showed it to Cde Gaba who was the

resident governor of Manicaland. He read the story with a lot of

interest then turned to the MP. “You know Mr. MP this is an

opportunity for us to campaign. Elections are just around the corner

we just have to send word to the President's office with our proposal,

if they approve then we are on it." The MP did not understand what the

governor meant so he just looked at him. “I can see that you don’t

understand me. What I mean is this fallen fighter be declared a

provincial hero, we provide food , drinks , some beer transport and we

bury him officially at the heroes acre , that way we have an

opportunity to talk to the people. "



The President's office accepted the governor's proposal and gave the

governor green light to go ahead with his plans. By the end of the

night mai Ziwanai's homestead was full of Mercedes Benz, BMWs, Nissan,

Toyotas and all other posh cars of gvt officials and ministers you can

name. For the crowd they brought buses to transport the people to the

provincial heroes’ acre, there were also big trucks that brought meat,

mealie-meal and drinks for the people. The elders and family of

Ziwanai performed their last ritual; the blanket with the wrapped

bones was carefully placed in a brown coffin. Six members of the

defense forces lifted the coffin and put it at the back of a military

vehicle and followed the convoy of gvt officials and ministers who

came for the burial of a hero. By mid morning the provincial heroes’

acre was full. People came from all walks of life hoping to witness

the talking bones for themselves. The Governor of the province stepped

forward to give his prepared and written speech. “Ladies and

gentleman, government officials today is a day that reminds us of our pain of

yesterday and promise of tomorrow. We are gathered here to bury a

fighter, who as a young man sacrificed his life, his future to fight

for the independence and sovereignty of our

motherland....................................................."

UUUUUUUUUUuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu! The crowd responded with

ululation. Ladies wearing wrap overs with the face of their president

were the loudest cheerers. Whilst most people were enjoying this there

was one young man who was not happy. Cloud popularly known as

professor by his peers was an unemployed graduate just like many young

people in his country. He witnessed his country transform from being a

bread basket of the Southern region into a house of hunger. He

witnessed friends and family members cross the borders and oceans in

search of greener pastures. As people shouted and cheered at the

governor’s message he even became angrier at them. He looked around,

and on his immediate left side were a group of young men who also

looked anxious. Professor had found audience to express his

frustrations." You know it is fun how God hides things to men by

placing them near them. Look at the posh cars of these politicians,

and here they are promising us honey and milk. Are we not all talking

bones, ourselves moving skeletons what do we have, what did we

sacrifice our lives for? Treachery, nepotism, corruption and ample

connection is the new definition of patriotism. This land we fought is

being shared by the few elite. Our fertile and rich soils are growing

weeds. These people you see in front of us have ruined everything that

was rich and glorious. They have turned abundance into want, changed

order into chaos, leaving behind only the glory of their past. Things

continue to worsen as they keep on amassing wealth and yet they keep

on urging us to bear any pain, pay any price, meet any hardship,

support any friend and oppose any foe. They urge us to look east when

the East is looking west. “The young guys looked at him and like

nodded their heads, because like him they were also unemployed

graduates.” Look at what recently happened in South Africa in what was

deemed the Marikina massacre. Miners went out in the streets to

protest for better wages and working conditions. Police opened fire

killing many protesters. Whilst the family members lost sons, fathers

and husbands for some politicians it was a chance to resurrect their

careers. To them the common man has no soul, no blood, feels no

hunger, feels no pain; in short the common man is just a walking

skeleton, talking bones."



When the governor finished his speech, people dispersed one by one. Those who belonged to the ruling part remained behind singing revolutionary songs, reminding them of the war when they were together
as one. Slowly but surely life was going back to normal , the majority going back to their empty houses , some without doors , the politicians drove off in their posh cars to their mansions...