Reclaiming culture of reading If we make books available through building bookshelves in our houses, place books on the shelves and switch off the television, our children might stop watching movies and grab a copy each
If we make books available through building bookshelves in our houses, place books on the shelves and switch off the television, our children might stop watching movies and grab a copy each

If we make books available through building bookshelves in our houses, place books on the shelves and switch off the television, our children might stop watching movies and grab a copy each

Sekai Nzenza On Wednesday
“Hamugute kutenga mabooks here? Tengai doro,” said my cousin Piri, meaning, don’t you ever get tired of buying books? Buy some beer.

She was directing this request to my cousin Reuben, who is lately collecting books for the book shelf in his new house.

Since he started buying and collecting books, Reuben’s library has over 500 various books, including old Shona novels, autobiographical books and crime fiction.

According to Piri, there is a strange book illness that has taken hold of Reuben. She has reminded us several times that books are for students, who want to pass examinations, and not for adults.

The other day she told Reuben that some of the books on his shelf were so old and ugly they spoil the good look of his house.

“If you want good books, I know a man in Chitungwiza, who sells Encyclopedias at very cheap prices. They will look good on the shelf because they are all new,” Piri said.

Reuben laughed and said books are not just about big Encyclopedias.

“Sis, you sometimes bring a book to the village but I have never seen you reading it. Is that not true?” Piri asked. It was true. I often imagine myself sitting on the verandah of the grass thatched roundavel quietly reading a good book.

But this has not happened over the past three or more years since I have been coming back here regularly.

It is not a question of not finding time. No. Here in the village, we spend a lot of time doing various chores, telling stories, laughing and catching up on gossip. As adults, we hardly ever read here. And yet when we are back in town, most of my relatives and friends do not read. Instead, they relax watching television and others spend a lot of time in church.

One of my cousins called Laiza has read the whole Bible five times. She is not alone. The Bible seems to be the most popular book to read in Zimbabwe so that we grow in spirit and get closer to God and Heaven.

“You see all these big houses in Harare? Do you think the men and women in those houses ever go around flea markets, the streets of Harare and walk as far as Mbare looking for books?” asked Piri when we stopped at Mbare market on our way to the village last week.

Piri wanted to buy madora, the nice dried caterpillars that come from Mopani trees in Matabeleland. We left Piri in the car because she did not want to walk around Mbare looking for books.

We walked through the vegetable market, the noisy stalls where traders sell everything from bolts, spanners, CD’s, batteries, medicine to strengthen your back, soya chunks, beans, kapenta fish, sadza, mealie meal and many other products.

Across the road from the market stalls was the old Machipisa shops. Everywhere we could see new clothing from China and second hand jackets from the US spread on the ground for people to inspect and buy.

We found the books on the pavement and some were nicely placed on the make shift shelves facing the busy bus terminus.

Here you find buses going to places all over Zimbabwe. There were some familiar titles by Agatha Christie, T.K Rowland, “Lord of the Flies” by William Golding, “The Grass Is Singing” by Doris Lessing.

I had some of these old books on my shelf. While Reuben scouted around for his special collection, I asked the guy selling the books if he had any original Shona classics like “Nzvengamutsvairo” by Bernard Chidzero, “Ndakamuda Dakara Afa” by Kenneth Bepswa, “Makunun’unu Maodza Moyo” by Charles Mungoshi.

He said such original books were rare.

He showed me some new writings and among them was Memory Chirere’s “Bhuku Risina Basa Nekuti Rakanyorwa Masikati”. I had a copy already, but I still bought another one.

“We struggle to find original books. I have to confess that most of what I have here are photocopies. But wait, let me go round the corner to ask my friend,” said the bookseller.

He left us looking and inspecting some books. He came back carrying one original book of poems by MA Hamutyinei and “Muchadura” by Father Emmanuel Ribeiro. I bought both of them. I recalled reading these books when I was in primary school, when my English was still very poor.

At that time, back in the village, we read any book we could find. During the school holidays we read novels by Enid Blyton and Rider Haggard’s “King Solomon’s Mines”. My sister Charity, the former diplomat, got a permanent scar on her hand as a result of being hit gently with a burning stick by my mother because she had been caught reading a novel while the sadza she was cooking was getting burnt.

The stick left a scar on her hand. Over the years, Charity was proud of her scar because it reminded her of the days she did not stop reading.

Then there was another time when Charity could hardly do anything around the house because she was reading a novel written by James Hadley Chase titled, “You are Lonely When You’re Dead”.

It was in the dry season and we were preparing the red millet, zviyo, for harvesting. My mother assigned Charity to look after the zviyo and mhunga at the flat rocks, kuruware and chase away any goats, cattle or baboons who might want to eat it. She sat in the shade reading the book.

At sunset we went to help her carry the sacks of zviyo home. Then she realised she had forgotten her book by the side of the rock where she had been sitting all day. It was too dark to go and collect it.

Early in the morning, I went with her kuruware to get the book. But it was gone. Then we noticed a paper trail of torn pages from the book scattered on a footpath.

We followed the paper trail, picking up flying page after page of the book. The pages led us to Panichi the Terrible’s homestead.

Panichi was the known village delinquent, svuuramuromo.

Panichi said he had picked up the book for sure. Laughing sarcastically, he referred us to men, who smoke tobacco because they were likely to be using the book pages as cigarette papers.

Charity used to regret never finishing this particular James Hadley Chase novel.

When I visited her in America in 1997, during the time she worked for Zimbabwe’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs, I saw a copy of the novel that Panichi had torn.

Charity said she bought a copy of the book just for memory.

She had already lost interest in the author. But she discovered many other authors. Her bookshelf was packed with all kinds of fiction. When Charity died six years ago, the books remained mostly in cardboard boxes because she had never got round to building a bookshelf for the books. The books are still there.

“People forget to build bookshelves in their houses,” Reuben said, as we walked back to the car with a bundle of books.

“As a result, the children no longer read. The situation is worsened by the world of technology. You can read a whole book online using Kindle or listen to Audio books or Podcast.”

Back in the car, Piri still complained that we were wasting valuable and scarce cash buying books. But she still picked up the book of poems by Hamutyinei.

She chose the poem about a beautiful girl called Vimbai titled, “Ndiye wandaireva”.

This poem does not easily translate into English: “Ndiye muteyazuva wedu, runji rusitengenguo. Ishwa inodyiwa nemambava, uso unjenjema. Nyenyedzi inotibikira nokufukidza jenaguru . . . Chigagairwa, tsvarakadenga, ruva romunakamwe. Vhudzi rake ruswiswi rwebani muchirimo.”

“Ah, the Shona language is so beautiful. If only we could still speak like that,” said Reuben. “Or at least, teach our children how to speak and read the mother tongue as it is written in these books.

“If we place these books on the shelves, and switch off the television, the children might stop watching television and grab a book”.

“Children can be encouraged to read. But you cannot expect a woman my age to be seen reading a book,” said Piri.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Ko doro ndasiya nani?” she asked.

“If I start reading books, who will be responsible for drinking beer?”

Reuben tried to explain that there is a time for everything. A book opens one’s horizon to knowledge and to the world.

Dr Sekai Nzenza is a writer and cultural critic.

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