Nhamo Mhiripiri

Nhamo Mhiripiri was born in Harare and grew up there and in Chitungwiza. Went to Nyandoro primary School in
Highfield, Harare, St Ignatius College in Chisahawasha, and Murewa High School, before doing a Bachelor's degree in
English and History at the University of Zimbabwe, where he also did a Post Grad Diploma and an MA in Media and
Communication Studies. He is currently revising his doctoral thesis with the University of KwaZulu Natal, South Africa.
He has published critical works in Emerging perspectives on Dambudzo Marechera, edited by Flora Veit-Wild and Anthony
Chennels, and in Maurice Vambe's The Hidden Dimensions of Operation Murambatsvina. He has short stories in No More
Plastic Balls, A Roof to Repair and Creatures Great and Small. Another short story, "When Night Was Arrested" has
recently been published in the anthology Dreams, Miracles and Jazz: New adventures in African Writing edited by Helon
Habila and Kadija Sesay. He is a Senior Lecturer in Media and Society Studies at the Midlands State University in
Zimbabwe.
Zimbabwe Patriotic People’s Perennial National Parade a.k.a Zimbabwe
Revolutionary People’s Mass Display as Inspired By the Great leader
after copying the Chinese, or Just in short - Queuing
Line up
But stop the row
Don’t push’n shove
you don’t get the sugar
Fallback fall back
Wait your turn
I swear you won’t get the salt
Gogo go sprint bread is out at TMs
Go get it before it’s finished
Bapu zondo guru susu
Tripe, beef-trotters at trillion-fold
their last known price
Decade long queue
Queuing
Marching in file
Pavement designs snaking in style
Lame rhetoric two-legged truth
Aftermaths of farm invasions
Geriatric control averse to change
Living ancestors can’t provide
Mind the line
Bribe the line
For a jump start
Jump the line
Lining shelves with no stock
Lining rent seekers’ pockets
Soldier man, rowdy tout, call the tune
man the line
insure delivery of shortages
off shelves
lines lines lines rows
the national design
motif more abstract than chevron
craft a line
crack a joke
in line with the times
don’t joke bob is bonkers
you get hit into line
hit a line
bobspeak line
patriotspeak line
party line
succession line
line up your vote is our secret
chimes of the times
lies lies linear bigotry
our racial line pure and simple
lining out-designs geometry
nation at parade
stand in queue
salute your hunger
wait and go
passport office backlog
longest queue
get in line
wait your turn
take a cue
bribe a man
mind the line
man the line
mind the queue
soldier takeover
mind take cover
take a gap
boarder jump the log jam
malaicha malaicha where’s the queue
wait and see
line file row
who’s made to wait their turn
who’s mad to wait their turn
©nhamo mhiripiri (2008).
Interregnum: The short-sleeve or long-sleeves choice
The cache on the roads is hardtimes
The talk is about empty shelves and hunger
A gnawing calm shrouds the nation, protected
From real and imagined imperialist intrusion
Wise old men chide forgetful youth who hunger for alien sugar;
They thank revered ancestors for dividing the vote
Protecting heritage so righteous patriotism wins the day
We walk like stunned ghosts in reverie
Hunger itself is a mind altering nonsubstance
We can’t believe the horrors we have survived
As chauvinism took up arms in defense of priviledge
In the name of the motherland at correctional pungwes
We sing, dance and sloganeer; more than half of us acting out character
Hearts congealed with fear; worried stiff anyone can testify they saw you
Celebrating change after March 29 election result announcement
The verdict is predetermined - machete passes on
And it’s your turn to make a choice on which of your hands
Dared touch the untouchable profaning war memories
Putting an insulting X on a people’s ballot paper to please British Blair
You think of your wardrobe - which shirts number more;
Short-sleeved? Long-sleeved? The answer helps
Choose which arm is axed short-sleeve or long-sleeve length
A warning to vote wisely next time around if we survive starvation
An existential signifier never to sell out land;
Never disrespect graves of our selfless dear departed
Always remember to clench that one fist, punch the air,
Chant with unquestionable vigour – “Pamberi neChimurenga!”
Hailing living ancestors who always know what’s right for the nation.