Tag: creative writing

The Story of Zuva and Mwedzi

In the spirit of romance, love and union, I decided to revisit an old folktale I came across some year back about how the world came to be. For a good while, I believed that this was the Shona, world creation story. I’d later find that there were different versions of it, all written with the bold claim of being the single story of how the Shona lore described the creation of the world, each with the same characters, Musikavanhu/Nyadenga (God), Zuva (the Sun), Mwedzi (the moon), Hweva (Morning star) and Morongo (Evening star). 

This story I’ve shared is a blend of all the versions I’ve encountered, enjoy ❤ …

This story goes…

Many years ago, before the great hammer hit the ground and before the world came to be, there was Nyadenga, who sat in constant contemplation. A moment came when he decided to move, in this moment he felt a great joy followed by an intense desire to share this experience. So he created to Zuva, full and fiery with a portion of Nyadenga’s greatest sense of passion and joy. 

After a time, it became clear that Zuva could not relate to Nyadenga, he had a loneliness about him which saddened Nyadenga. On a certain day, Nyadenga shed a tear at the sight of a lonesome Zuva, who’d been yearning for something he’d never known before. Nyadenga kept this tear and breathed life into it. Giving birth to Mwedzi, a companion for Zuva.

The two shared a beautiful romance, and Nyadenga delighted in it. He gave them the ability to realize this love through creation. Together they were amazing creators, Zuva would create beautiful plants and vegetation and show them to Mwedzi, and Mwedzi would create insects, birds and many gentle animals to show to Zuva. The more they created and shared in the beauty of their creations, the more their love grew. Nyadenga had been gifting them with inspiration when they created and stoking their love when they were apart, it gave him a sense of whimsy to do this for them in secret, and the amusement he felt when they’d each come and talk about the other in their private times with Nyadenga, filled him with more gratification than he’d ever anticipated.

Gradually, they grew more and more distant from Nyadenga, relishing only in their union. No longer speaking to their creator, leaning into a vanity over the works they had done.

Nyadenga grew furious at this, after all, the entire reason he created them, was to share the joy of life with them.

He watched as their vanity transformed their love into arrogance, believing they had done it all on their own. He leaned further back when they no longer sought to create as a mark of affection and their once heartfelt devotion to each other turned into competition. 

Their new commitment to outshine each other increasingly became fuelled with spite. Each one determined to prove that their creations were more beautiful, more important, more useful than the other. 

In a moment of rage, Zuva, knowing that Mwedzi’s animals fed on his plants, began to lace some with poison, and sure enough, the animals began to die off. A grief stricken Mwedzi, not knowing how to deal with this deception grew angry at her creations, she had often bragged that her animals were stronger because they could move freely as they pleased and that she could easily command them to stomp on Zuva’s motionless plants if she wished. She never imagined that he would poison them, or that they could succumb to the attack of a motionless creature. Soon after she created more violent animals to hunt down and kill the ones that had embarrassed her. 

This war that grew between Zuva and Mwedzi was felt by their creations. The plants vowed never to speak, fearing their father would set them ablaze. The herbivorous creatures grew more anxious, and uncertain, not knowing why they were punished with such violent siblings. And the carnivorous animals turned on each other, those who revelled in their roles as predators making a sport of attacking those who had sunken into shame and guilt for their violent nature.

Nyadenga could no longer bear the chaos. He called Zuva and Mwedzi and showed them the pain they had been causing. But they were too caught up in their strife to truly care about the harm they were causing to their creations, only choosing to blame each other.

So one day, Nyadenga took from Mwedzi’s smaller carnivores, the snake, which at the time only hunted for mice, and he filled it with poison from one of Zuva’s plants and set it loose. As Zuva paced and inspected his garden, he grabbed this snake with careless rage, mistaking it for a fallen branch and it’s hiss for an expression of disrespect, he had believed the plants honoured him with their silence. 

He felt the poison shoot up and without much time he was with Nyadenga.

Mwedzi would meet a similar fate, when she grabbed the snake to return it closer to the mice after seeing it wonder near Zuva’s garden.

The two pleaded with Nyadenga, begging to be sent back, Nyadenga wouldn’t have it, but he allowed each of them a single ask for their eternal lives in Nyadenga’s house. Mwedzi begged for them to be able to watch over their creations. Nyadenga granted this with the condition that they never do this together, that they were to spend eternity watching over their world apart, and were to never directly interact with their creations as they did before. 

After hearing that their union would not continue in eternity. A teary eyed Zuva begged for a chance to work on one last creation with Mwedzi, as a monument to their love. She accepted this, it hurt her too that their relationship would end, even though it had become so bitter. Together, with the help of Nyadenga they spent time creating mankind and womankind, pouring bits of themselves and their shared love and knowledge into them, and placed them on earth to help keep harmony amongst all creatures.

Soon after they were done, they shared a final kiss and a teary farewell then Nyadenga kept his word and separated them. Calling Zuva’s watch time day time and  Mwedzi’s watch time night time.

They drew nearer to Nyadenga, in their separation and the love that they had shared for each other resurfaced. So Nyadenga, not wanting them to suffer the lonesomeness that had once caused a heartbreaking isolation in Zuva, allowed them to send messengers; Hweva and Morongo, between each other, while keeping the vow that they never meet again.

The End

March Stories : Girls Night Out

Happy April first, we’ve got a new addition to our mini-March stories series, where we’re sharing stories written that center the holidays that we celebrated in the month of March, International Women’s Day, Independance Day and Easter. Girls Night Out is a story that acknowledges violence against women and girls following independence, how it has become something that spoils freedoms hoped for by many freedom fighters and how these terrifying situations have often become just common cautionary tales.

The dance started promptly at 6pm. Thandeka and Mary and I were already there by 5:30 , we didn’t know that people never came early for these events and we’d soon find out that we didn’t need to save up for new high heels unfamiliar make-up and heavy jewelry, we could have easily pulled off a look with some high tops, tube-tops and flared mini-skirts or shorts and lipstick. But it didn’t matter, we had just made it to our first school dance and that’s what mattered the most.

It was well orchestrated, we had told our parents that we would have a hockey match, an away game, and that’d work for a good cover to see the dance through to the end.  None of us was particularly good at hockey, we’d made the team thanks to a quota formality and would tag along and bench. There was no game this weekend though, but we needed an excuse to make this happen, it was the last year of high school and we were going to make it count. The night would end with a sleepover at the home of Thandeka’s aunt, Ms Marange.

She was one of the teachers at the school with a house on campus, and, had played the role of a fairly open-minded older sister to her rather than that of an older mother as her familial title “mainini, young mother” had demanded. She’d go along with their plan as long as they promised to report to her every 15 minutes and to make sure they would head home and do their homework as soon as the dance was over. She was in her late forties, a former soldier who met her husband when he was in exile and moved to his home town soon after the war. He’d remained in the army, and travelled on missions with the NDF and she left that life and was now a drama teacher and writer, known for being unreserved and amicable enough for students to be very liberal in her presence yet firm enough to innerve cold-feet in anyone who thought of disrespecting her.  “Yho, maborn-free with your pre-occupations” she mused upon seeing our shoes. I felt a slight wash of embarrassment because I really felt like an adult in my peep-toed heels.

People started piling into the school hall by 6:30, this was the big Independence day bash that took place annually and was always the source of the juiciest gossip and stories that would illicit a fear of missing out that served as enough justification for lying to our parents. “We were doing this for a greater cause…we must enjoy our youth,” we agreed. By the time everyone was settling in, we were barefoot, dancing in the glory of a very well executed con on our parents and a coming of age moment being experienced. Our fifteen minute report-backs to Ms Marange started off as a group endeavor and after around 8pm became individual check-ins. We’d separated after Terrance, a classmate of ours, had asked Thandeka to dance, Mary and I didn’t want to hover around them, so we moved away and soon enough Mary was swept away by Ndapewa, a girl she’d been enthralled with in the previous year while I remained absorbed in the music and dancing. Ms Marange didn’t seem to mind us splitting up, her responses to our check-ins were a slight nod and waving away while talked to some of the other teachers.

I was just about to show off my routine to Soulja-Boy’s Crank That when Mary tugged at my arm asking where Thandeka was. My impulsive shrug-off was met with a loud, “Where did she go!” from a raging Ms Marange. I knew the fifteen minute mark had just passed but this was a rare opportunity to show off that I knew all the moves from the music video. “I told you girls to make sure you report back every fifteen minutes. Both of you, go and find Thandeka now!” We raced out of the room, averting our eyes from the gaze of our nosey peers, none of whom had a word to say about Thandeka’s whereabouts.

“You were on the dance floor, didn’t you see where she went?” Mary asked.

“Honestly Mary, I wasn’t paying attention. Where’s Ndapewa, why isn’t she helping us look?” I responded in a tone that made my irritability very apparent.

“She’s checking the bathrooms, Marange started with me before we got to you, Ndapewa  and a couple of other students were told to go check the bathrooms and the junior classes, you and I should probably head over to the car-park, the sports field and senior block.” Mary remained unbothered

“Why is she so furious, it’s not like Thandeka has been missing for hours, it’s just been a few minutes.  Did you tell her she was with a boy?”

“No, and let’s keep it that way, you just know she would never let us forget if we did.”

“I don’t know, all I know is that I would rather search for Thandeka for the rest of the night than have my mother know where I really am.” Mary said, making me focus on the bigger picture.

We called for Thandeka and Terrence, scanning through the car park and the sports fields. The more we looked, the more the thought that they were somewhere fooling around eroded. She and Terrance flirted often and passed each other notes from time to time. She once said they had been texting on Mxit throughout the holiday before her phone was confiscated. So we had no reason to suspect that anything was awry. Our walk up to the classes was silent. Neither one of us wanted to discuss the possibility of anything terrible happening to Thandeka. The distress Ms Marange had shown had caught up to us, but neither of us would acknowledge it, jokes about horrid possibilities and expressions of annoyance turned into fast paced marches and echoed calls.

So when we headed back up-school to a crowd in front of the science lab, I was certain that the anvil I felt weighing on my chest had also struck Mary. She was braver than I was though, she shoved through the crowd to find a bleeding Thandeka centering this crowd of mumbling students being herded back by teachers. A teary eyed Ms Marange pacing rapidly on the phone, coupled with involuntary eaves dropping confirmed a worst case scenario that had just been too convoluted for us to plan for. Thandeka wasn’t moving, and Terrance had been taken to a separate classroom. My mind couldn’t comprehend it. Suddenly what had been my worst fear earlier that night paled in comparison to the actual reality. My parents were called, and they too were caught in the surrealness of what had taken place.

A combination of piecing together questions from the police interrogations and newspaper articles eventually helped us draw pictures of what had happened.

Thandeka and Terrence had been dancing, a supervisor who had been reminding them to stay at an arm’s length distance apart, claimed they stopped keeping track of them after realizing that they had been reporting to Ms Marange, and that they generally had been trusted students, so “…they didn’t require as much monitoring as more rowdy students.” A line in a newspaper article read. Eventually they left the hall and snuck into one of the science labs. They began to make-out and eventually she worried about her aunt looking for her, she wanted to head back to check-in, but Terrance insisted that she stay longer, he claimed that they tussled and she fell and hit her head on the corner of the table. Mary and I think he wanted a lot more, she’d wanted to save herself for marriage, and was deathly paranoid about becoming a mother before she was ready. But we only had his version of events.

We didn’t get to talk to Ms Marange after that night, not even at the funeral. To apologize for being lackadaisical about her panic that night. To apologize for putting her in that position and for causing this, to be part of her legacy at the school.

Copyright Zenze 2024

Photo by Hashtag Melvin