Myth and lore has it that faint voices echo deep within the edifices of the Great Zimbabwe ruins;
chants of differing dialects –
protesting for the ancestral Shona who erected the City of Stone
for monarch and masters;
the priestly seat of
political power and pomp –

Ndipeyi, minimum yangu
Ndipeyi, minimum yangu
(I’ve done all my housekeeping duties
So please, give me my minimum wage)

The ancient muffled voices grieve
with stricken sounds of lamentation;
they sorrow for deliverance from an ancient pneumatics of tyranny,
distress and torment.

Forces of the underworld taunt and provoke a people who are largely ignorant of the malevolence that permeates the atmosphere under the guise of brotherhood and negotiation.
but only for a season will the pleasurable aftermath of compromise and terror linger.

Burning despair and “solid darkness stain’d” will soon visit all who dare shake the hand of King Lear.
The crown will soon be displaced
for the end of time is near –

Flinch and let these prophecies
sear your mind dear King;
invincible you are not.

Zimbabwe Zimbabwe
attend to despairing gloom
that summon the spirit of Grace –
Oh ye friends of this nation
stretch forth your staff and
see the Nile turn to blood.

“Farao Farao,
regai vanhu vangu vaende”!

Let my people go!

“The Power of Words”

Ndipeyi, minimum yangu (from The Servants Ball by Dambudzo Marechera)

(By Jambiya- an emotive writer and storyteller who weaves the tragedy and victory of the human experience into a tapestry of memorable imagery and metaphor. She speaks with honesty on the socio-spiritual challenges of our time. Jambiya’s works are trail to a feast for those accustomed to the jaded perfunctory cleverness of modern wordsmith)

Leave a Reply