Twenty years ago I sat in a form one classroom reading Charles Mungoshis Coming of the Dry Season, awed by the novelty of the words I was reading. Two days ago, I stood by his bedside at South Medical Hospital in Chitungwiza awed that this iconic man who changed so many things about how I viewed literature, was, like the crow he wrote about in one of his short stories, lying there fighting the flying rocks of ill health that seemed to be pummelling him relentlessly, bidding him depart from this life.
But like his hardy crow, he defies logic and hangs on. And as I did with the crow back then, struck by the injustice of the circumstances of its pain, I so badly want him to live. I will come to that later.
As I read the short stories in Coming of the Dry Season I marvelled at the new world Mungoshi was opening me up to. Having grown up on a literary diet that consisted mainly of The Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, William, The Three Investigators, Tintin, Asterix & Obelix and other foreign childrens titles, I had never imagined it would be entertaining to read about Zimbabwean experiences. Mungoshi taught me that it was.
So influenced was I by this foreign gastronomy of the mind that my first attempts at writing books were about little American (or was it English?) kids trying to solve little American mysteries.
Then came Zimbabwe Junior Certificate (ZJC) and its set books, which included Mungoshis famous collection of short stories. A whole new world opened up to me.
And so on Sunday, all these thoughts going through my head, as he lay there, in a hospital bed, emaciated, a drip on his arm, gasping for life, I wanted him to live not because I think his work on earth is not done. Thats for God to decide.
I wanted him to live- I want him to live- because I think that our work as Zimbabweans, in saying thank you, in celebrating him, in acknowledging his contribution to our common hood has not gone beyond its first comma and is nowhere close to its full stop.
Mungoshi turns 63 in November this year. I was so moved by the sight of his wife, Jesesi, at his side, feeling his temperature, keeping a brave face as she told us He is much better today. He couldnt move a single limb a few days ago. Around her, at least 15 relatives and friends watching silently, each one hoping, wishing, praying.
That little book of short stories that he gave to us as Zimbabweans and the scores of other stories that he wrote, that favourite picture of him wearing his stylish flat cap. That hope for an opportunity for us to say to say thank you. These things- make me wish upon a wish upon a wish that he lives on.
Living Zimbabwean literary legend, Charles Mungoshi, was hospitalised just over a week ago after feeling unwell and then going into a coma. His condition remains critical. – Fungai Tichawangana for The Zimbo Jam
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