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In the village, in the land of milk honey and dust or Guruve, one who plants grapes by the road side, and one who marries a pretty woman, share the same problem - every passerby wants to taste.
But the careless ones do not care!
In the other world, in the land of football there are many fruit trees planted on the roadside for everyone to pick - call it human rights.
Journalism is that profession that, takes you to ringside seat of events and unbeknown to you, you are already in the deep-end of things. There, you mix with the -
Isdore Guvamombe Reflections
IT was the early days of the rainy season in the village, in the land of milk, honey and dust or Guruve. At mid-morning, the sky was yawningly cloudless and the atmosphere stuffy. The
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Reflections Isdore Guvamombe
A big goat does not sneeze without reason! Taking a sabbatical and retreating to the village in the land of milk, honey and dust or Guruve, after a year or so of continually churning out stories, for the -
Isdore Guvamombe Features Editor
A LIONESS on birth control pills has given birth to a record eight cubs in one litter at the Lion and Cheetah Park on the outskirts of Harare, a rare spectacle that has left conservationists baffled. Wildlife -
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Isdore Guvamombe Reflections
In the village in the land of milk, honey and dust, or Guruve, a man who plants grapes by the roadside where hungry people pass by and one who marries a pretty woman in a village where most
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Isdore Guvamombe Reflections
Back in the village in the land of milk, honey and dust or Guruve elders with cotton tuft heads say a bird does not sing because it has an answer, but because it has a song. This villager likes the game of football. And, so do others, who despite, their inability even to kick a stationary ball, talk and write football more than the players themselves. Talking football and playing football are far too different domains.
The village soothsayer, the ageless autochthon of wisdom and knowledge, says many soccer supporters can hardly kick a stationary ball and yet, the irony of it, is that they play the ball better in their minds.
That is the beauty of human imagination and aspirations. Do elders not say men trip and fall on molehills than on mountains? Who has ever been tripped by a mountain?
This villager, grew up deep in the then Sipolilo Tribal Trust Lands where there was only one sporting discipline that mattered — football. -
Isdore Guvamombe Reflections
We were confronted by kilometre after kilometre of apparently empty bush, then a scattering of mud-and-pole huts, dotted European-style main houses, a few criss-crossing gravel paths, cattle grazing on the verges of the road and precious little else. It was in late August and the land of -
Isdore Guvamombe Tourism Matrix
AT the inception of the inclusive Government, the tourism industry was identified and subsequently pronounced one of the four pillars of Zimbabwe’s economic turnaround programmes. But surprisingly, four years on, the tourism and hospitality industry in Zimbabwe is not in the top -
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Reflections Isdore Guvamombe
Back in the village, in the land of milk, honey and dust or Guruve, when heavy rains beat a leopard’s skin, they do not wash off the spots. Truth remains truth! It has always been known that a family is like the forest, if you are outside it is dense, if you are inside you see that each tree has its own position. A tree is never a forest.
The full import of these vignettes being: does a prophet’s wife automatically become a prophetess?
And, does a prophetess’ husband become a prophet?
It is fact, not fiction that becoming a prophet is a calling but being his or her spouse is by choice. -
Reflections Isdore Guvamombe
No one’s mental snapshot can encapsulate the experience in the village, in the land of milk, honey and dust, or Guruve. The memories can only be ephemeral. There, the village elders with cotton tuft heads have mastered the art of listening and chewing the cud of stories, only to release them back, when it becomes -
Isdore Guvamombe Reflections
Swirls of opaque mist hid the advancing dawn. The first shafts of sun coloured — with a russet hue — all the fluffy grass heads that rippled across the plain to the east of the village. The sun’s heat systematically gamboled on the mist, like a goat gamboling on chuff from a winnowing process, until the mist slowly disappeared. -
Isdore Guvamombe Reflections
In the village, in the land of milk, honey and dust or Guruve axes carried in the same bag cannot avoid rattling and so do hoes concurrently digging a small pit. It is inevitable. Do cattle drinking from a dwindling pool not fight for the life-saving liquid? And, so do women in a polygamous marriage not fight for their man’s -
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Reflections Isdore Guvamombe
Back in the village, in the land of milk, honey and dust or Guruve, it is accepted that education is useful when one eventually plunges into the undergrowth of survival in a world of westernisation, mythology and ritual, of symbolism and belief. As each one of us picks his or her way between -
Isdore Guvamombe Reflections
Back in the village in the land of milk, honey and dust or Guruve, no matter how long a night becomes, dawn will eventually break. In the village, a he-goat is never a master of courtship. His is a loud massif appeal, so public that one has to make sure he or she is not in the company of in-laws -
Reflections Isdore Guvamombe
Back in the village, in the land of milk, honey and dust or Guruve, wealth is dew, as the sun rises imperceptibly, it soon dries up, leaving ephemeral memories. Do elders not say, to avoid fraud or wickedness, God gave every creature a name and means of survival? But with earthly
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