Munyori Literary Journal
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FICTION
"The Geology of Ghosts" by Naomi Benaron
For the first time since the President’s plane was shot down and the killing began, the sun shows her face.
She is defiant, fighting her way through the dawn’s bleakness as if daring the Interahamwe and their bands of
murderers to emerge into light. The announcers on RTLM have declared curfew in Butare over. People may
go about the business of living. If they can.
"Blessing" by Catherine Mark-Beasant
From the veranda I observe my uncle carrying a shadow of a woman in his arms. He holds her in the manner
a soldier supports a fallen comrade. His movements are steady, delicate – as if she is made of glass; except
she is all skin and bones. There is a rigour in his jaw line and he walks as if, with the span of his shoulders, he
is holding up the weight of the gods. Not an ounce of flesh pads out her ribbon-thin body. Limp, she looks
like a malnourished grasshopper. Her gaunt limbs dangle. And as he walks through the yard, from the front
gates past the main house, all I hear is the crunch of the pebbles beneath his feet. I call out to him: Uncle
Okoro, good evening. He stops and turns momentarily, his expression blank as if he doesn’t recognise me.
"A Walk in the Night" by Valerie Tagwira
Nyasha walked reluctantly behind her father's sister. There was tightness in her throat, and her mouth
felt strangely dry. She dragged her unwilling feet and tried to hide behind Vatete Revai’s imposing
solidness.
Although there were only a few people walking along the road, Nyasha was grateful for the twilight
and appreciative of the subtle privacy that it offered. She wrapped her arms around herself, more
aware of a pounding in her chest as their destination became nearer.
"The Geology of Ghosts" by Naomi Benaron
For the first time since the President’s plane was shot down and the killing began, the sun shows her face.
She is defiant, fighting her way through the dawn’s bleakness as if daring the Interahamwe and their bands of
murderers to emerge into light. The announcers on RTLM have declared curfew in Butare over. People may
go about the business of living. If they can.
"Blessing" by Catherine Mark-Beasant
From the veranda I observe my uncle carrying a shadow of a woman in his arms. He holds her in the manner
a soldier supports a fallen comrade. His movements are steady, delicate – as if she is made of glass; except
she is all skin and bones. There is a rigour in his jaw line and he walks as if, with the span of his shoulders, he
is holding up the weight of the gods. Not an ounce of flesh pads out her ribbon-thin body. Limp, she looks
like a malnourished grasshopper. Her gaunt limbs dangle. And as he walks through the yard, from the front
gates past the main house, all I hear is the crunch of the pebbles beneath his feet. I call out to him: Uncle
Okoro, good evening. He stops and turns momentarily, his expression blank as if he doesn’t recognise me.
"A Walk in the Night" by Valerie Tagwira
Nyasha walked reluctantly behind her father's sister. There was tightness in her throat, and her mouth
felt strangely dry. She dragged her unwilling feet and tried to hide behind Vatete Revai’s imposing
solidness.
Although there were only a few people walking along the road, Nyasha was grateful for the twilight
and appreciative of the subtle privacy that it offered. She wrapped her arms around herself, more
aware of a pounding in her chest as their destination became nearer.
POETRY
Gale Acuff
R. K. Bushan
Michael L. Johnson
Steven Joyce
Jeff Klooger
Malati Mathur
Christopher Mulrooney
John Williams
David Kowalczyk
Neal Whitman
Gale Acuff
R. K. Bushan
Michael L. Johnson
Steven Joyce
Jeff Klooger
Malati Mathur
Christopher Mulrooney
John Williams
David Kowalczyk
Neal Whitman
ESSAYS
"Honwana and the Southern African Short Story" by Memory Chirere
"Yvonne Vera: The Fearless Taboo Queen" by Ivor W. Hartmann
"Honwana and the Southern African Short Story" by Memory Chirere
"Yvonne Vera: The Fearless Taboo Queen" by Ivor W. Hartmann
INTERVIEWS
Emmanuel Sigauke inteviews Petina Gappah
Emmanuel Sigauke inteviews Petina Gappah
Welcome to the first multi-genre issue of Munyori Literary Journal, which features an
exclusive interview with Petina Gappah, whose debut short story collection, An Elegy
for Easterly will be released on April 9 by Faber. Dike Okoro interviews renowned
Nigerian poet Tanure Ojaide, and Memory Chirere talks about the importance of the
short story in Southern Africa, in an essay that features the Mozambican writer, Mark
Honwana. Ivor W. Hartmann gives a brief but enlightening profile of Yvonne Vera's
life and works. Short stories from Valerie Tagwira, Catherine Mark-Beasant, and
Naomi Benaron, and as always, high-quality poetry from different parts of the world.
Enjoy these treats and send your own best works for consideration.
exclusive interview with Petina Gappah, whose debut short story collection, An Elegy
for Easterly will be released on April 9 by Faber. Dike Okoro interviews renowned
Nigerian poet Tanure Ojaide, and Memory Chirere talks about the importance of the
short story in Southern Africa, in an essay that features the Mozambican writer, Mark
Honwana. Ivor W. Hartmann gives a brief but enlightening profile of Yvonne Vera's
life and works. Short stories from Valerie Tagwira, Catherine Mark-Beasant, and
Naomi Benaron, and as always, high-quality poetry from different parts of the world.
Enjoy these treats and send your own best works for consideration.
Dike Okoro interviews Tanure Ojaide
"Language is important to me. I like precision, crispness; I like uncluttered
sentences. I like writing to be musical. I want to write dialogue that sounds
like people talking. Three of my favourite writers, J.M. Coetzee, Ian
McEwan and Paul Auster, in their very different ways, have this quality, to
give but three examples from their many books, The Life and Times of
Michael K, Moon Palace and On Chesil Beach are just wonderful....
Living outside Zimbabwe has been good for my writing because it has enabled
me to have the sort of financial security that is not possible for a number of
writers in Zimbabwe. I am also lucky to live in Geneva, a cosmopolitan
city. I have friends from all over the world, which has helped me to
appreciate that we are all pretty much the same screwed-up people
wherever we come from...." Petina Gappah
sentences. I like writing to be musical. I want to write dialogue that sounds
like people talking. Three of my favourite writers, J.M. Coetzee, Ian
McEwan and Paul Auster, in their very different ways, have this quality, to
give but three examples from their many books, The Life and Times of
Michael K, Moon Palace and On Chesil Beach are just wonderful....
Living outside Zimbabwe has been good for my writing because it has enabled
me to have the sort of financial security that is not possible for a number of
writers in Zimbabwe. I am also lucky to live in Geneva, a cosmopolitan
city. I have friends from all over the world, which has helped me to
appreciate that we are all pretty much the same screwed-up people
wherever we come from...." Petina Gappah
"Whenever I am inspired, the words come willy-nilly. Every subject has its own
way of finding a suitable expression. Words, images, and figures carry the
emotions or ideas I want to express. Until I complete a poem I have no idea of
the words that will be there. So the words are part of the inspiration. Let me say
that the words are the dresses of the experiences I express....
The writer should be a pathfinder in the sense of his or her vision. So the writer
must be truthful about the conditions of his people but must hold on to their
hope. The African writer must be activist in a way to fight the negative forces
that dehumanize his or her people...." Tanure Ojaide
way of finding a suitable expression. Words, images, and figures carry the
emotions or ideas I want to express. Until I complete a poem I have no idea of
the words that will be there. So the words are part of the inspiration. Let me say
that the words are the dresses of the experiences I express....
The writer should be a pathfinder in the sense of his or her vision. So the writer
must be truthful about the conditions of his people but must hold on to their
hope. The African writer must be activist in a way to fight the negative forces
that dehumanize his or her people...." Tanure Ojaide
Nearly every Southern African writer who has become prominent today started
with short stories or has a short story collection somewhere along the way.
Dambudzo Marechera’s House of Hunger, Charles Mungoshi’s Coming of the Dry
Season, Njabulo Ndebele’s Fools and Other Stories... and many others are short
stories books. Even the so-called novels from Southern Africa tend to be merely
long-short stories sometimes called novellas....The short-story is “the genre of
Southern Africa” and the reasons for this are yet to be properly established.
Yvonne Vera leaves behind a legacy in her novels, short stories, and many
essays. In reading her works you can see she stuck firmly to her initial
intent, set out with Why Don’t You Carve Other Animals and ending in The
Stone Virgins. Through her writing she sought to expose and illuminate all
aspects of life, and if they were considered taboo she did not flinch but
persisted in revealing the truth. This applies to her very style of writing in
which she broke and flaunted all manner of traditional forms to create a
world that taught directly through the experience of reading it alone.
essays. In reading her works you can see she stuck firmly to her initial
intent, set out with Why Don’t You Carve Other Animals and ending in The
Stone Virgins. Through her writing she sought to expose and illuminate all
aspects of life, and if they were considered taboo she did not flinch but
persisted in revealing the truth. This applies to her very style of writing in
which she broke and flaunted all manner of traditional forms to create a
world that taught directly through the experience of reading it alone.
I am old frustrated thought
I look into my once eagle eyes
and find them dim before my dead mother,
I see through clouded egg whites with days
passing by like fog feathers.
I trip over old experiences and expressions,
try hard to suppress them or revisit them;
I'm a fool in my damn recollections,
not knowing what to keep and what to toss out--
but the dreams flow like white flour and deceive
me till they capture the nightmare of the past images
in a black blanket wrapped up
and wake me before my psychiatrist.
--Michael Lee Johnson, 2007
I look into my once eagle eyes
and find them dim before my dead mother,
I see through clouded egg whites with days
passing by like fog feathers.
I trip over old experiences and expressions,
try hard to suppress them or revisit them;
I'm a fool in my damn recollections,
not knowing what to keep and what to toss out--
but the dreams flow like white flour and deceive
me till they capture the nightmare of the past images
in a black blanket wrapped up
and wake me before my psychiatrist.
--Michael Lee Johnson, 2007