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Elliot Ziwira @ The Book Store

Shimmer Chinodya is indeed a grandmaster at this kind of story, as he adeptly examines both the literal and metaphorical perils of individualism in the institution of marriage which makes it claustrophobic and oppressive on the individual psyche.

“I didn’t marry you because you were perfect. I didn’t even marry you because I loved you. I married you because you gave me a promise. That promise made up for your faults. And the promise I gave you made up for mine.

“Two imperfect people got married and it was the promise that made the marriage. And when our children were growing up, it wasn’t a house that protected them; and it wasn’t our love that protected them — it was that promise,” writes the American playwright and novelist Thornton Wilder.

Verily gentle reader, “he is poor indeed that can promise nothing”, (Thomas Fuller) for “everyone is a millionaire where promises are concerned”, (Ovid). However, “one must have a good memory to be able to keep the promises that one makes”, (Friedrich Nietzsche).

There is a whole gamut of truth in the idea that for whatever one promises there is an equal measure of joy in the recipient of the promise regardless of fulfilment. Fulfilment of the promise only doubles, trebles or multiplies seventy-times-seven times, even, the exuberance in the heart of recipient of the promise, plus the honouring of the said promise.

Yes, promises make it possible for all of us to endure the burdens of this world. They make it possible for us to see the silver lining in that dark cloud yonder, menacingly crouching like a monstrous mountain at the horizon of our hopes. We promise even ourselves that all shall be well; that we will live happily ever after, notwithstanding the numerous hurdles that are strewn our way.

Promises, promises and more promises, is all that we need, it may seem then. In relationships, marriages we promise each other heaven, roses and orchids; at our workplaces we promise and are promised in return; whatever we promise, we are also promised in return; and as citizens we are promised a lot for our commitment. Oh, this world of promises!

There is nothing as distant as a couple that promises each other nothing and there is nothing as ruinous as a marriage that hinges on unfulfilled promises. There is much more to marriage than just two people brought together by fate or destiny, so much more. But to most people the idea of the institution of marriage evokes images of a battlefield where cannons are unleashed on supposed foes.

Literature is awash with promises, in the positivity of their presence, the negativity of their lack and the bane of their non-fulfilment. It would appear as though marriage as an institution is simply doomed in that it pits two individuals with different backgrounds and basically nothing in common, against each other, as if humanity is devoid of multiplicity, tolerance and compromise.

It is against this backdrop that I find the reading of Shimmer Chinodya’s collection of short stories “Chioniso And Other Stories” (2012) published by Weaver Press not only intriguing, but informative and evocative. The use of the autobiographical mode which pervades the anthology, as is the case in “Chairman of Fools” (2005), “Can We Talk and Other Stories” (1998) and“Dew in the Morning” (1983), though somehow limiting creativity through its inclination towards artistic self-justification, lends authenticity to the struggles that the individual endures in an attempt to find base in love and subsequently marriage, separation and divorce.

Using his doppelganger, Godfrey, Chinodya purveys a plethora of thematic concerns, from religion and its oppressive and hypocritical nature, as well as its impact on the individual psyche; cultural limitations on individual aspirations, corruption, individualism, materialism and marriage. Through the exploitation of the autobiographical mode, the writer effectively hoists the reader onto a familiar landscape of deceit, hypocrisy, frustration and despondency, where promises remain just other promises. The telling familiar story that he depicts in “Queues”, “Tavonga” and “Indigenous” leaves the reader askance.

However, it is the portrayal of marriage as claustrophobic, depressing, uncompromising and retrogressive, which is the gist of this installment. Stories that immediately come to mind are “Queues”, “Tavonga”, “The Car” and “Chioniso”.

Having first appeared in “Writing Still” (2003) and “Writing More”, respectively “Queues” and “Tavonga” have already been exhausted At The Bookstore. And because “Chioniso” carries with it the burden of the autobiographical mode which has already been explored, and obtains in the other two stories, the focus will be on “The Car”.

Because of its metonymic portrayal and symbolic significance, “The Car” told in the third person voice, reminds one of Tennessee Williams’ play “A Street car Named Desire” (1947). It is the story of two teachers, Baba Lydia (Petros) and Mai Lydia, who receive, through their only child Lydia, a Christmas gift from Roderick, their son-in-law, in the form of a car; “a sparkling white VW Golf with sea grey wind defectors, silver sports wheel covers, black mudflaps, and of course, a blue and white South African number plate.”

As a status symbol, the car immediately nudges Mai Lydia’s heart, as the high-density neighbourhood of their abode ogles at the rare beauty. However, instead of bringing joy, the car undermines the couple’s marriage. It has to be noted though, that the car does not bring with it problems, but it only exposes them. The fissures have already been there, and the simmering anger within only find vents through the gift.

Baba Lydia forgets that a gift horse should not be looked in the mouth, and exposes the car to scrutiny. In the first place a car was not his idea of a bride price for his daughter, secondly, he does not have a driver’s licence, but his wife has.

Roderick reneges on his promise to pay lobola, and now his wife is pregnant with their third child; and what does he do? He sends them a second-hand car from his base in South Africa. As Baba Lydia sees it: “A proper son-in-law pays proper lobola and doesn’t try to evade his dues with flimsy second hand presents.”

The couple’s marriage has always been on the rocks, forthey constantly fight over individual achievements in theircompetition against each other. The promises they made in teachers college decades earlier remain unfulfilled, and now in their 50s they allow a mere car to destroy whatever still remained of the promise. Petros feels that probably the 18-year-old girl that he got pregnant at college and married because of that was not meant to be his wife.

Academically the wife is degreed, and the husband still has teaching diploma, but he boasts that he teaches Grade 7s and would soon be promoted,and chides his wife who teaches Grade 1s, and she in turn would take him to town for not doing anything to raise the status bar to his favour like a man.

As attention shifts from the husband to the car, Mai Lydia abandons her duties as a wife is wont to. She is so smitten with the car thatshe becomes a challenge to the marriage in the same way that the jalopy becomes a burden on their pockets. It needs a guard, alarm, high precast security wall, secure garage and a guard dog which they cannot afford.

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Money to run the household becomes a visitor, as the wife acquires new friends. Therefore, the car, like their marriage is exposed to the vagaries of Man and their own foibles. As she escapes from the restrictive and competitive nature of their marriage through the car, her husband finds the elixir in alcohol and women of questionable morals.

Thieves pounce on the controversial gift, stripping it of its wind deflectors, wheel covers, mudflaps and wipers. When Baba Trevor, the deputy headmaster at the school they both teach, and lived up their street offered them his unused garage, Baba Lydia begrudgingly allows his wife to accept the offer. However, despite the seemingly tight security offered by the garage, high precast wall and guard dog at the good man’s disposal, thieves broke into the garage and stripped the car to its shell, relegating it to the scrapyard, much to the awe of the neighbourhood.

It is the realisation that there is no form of security that beats the inner security shared by two individuals brought together by a promise to protect each other and fight from the same corner,which brings the couple together in the dawn of their loss. Mai Lydia remembers to fall back into her husband’s hands as she sobs and hiccups “against the wall of his chest”.

It is true indeed that “many marriages would be better if the husband and the wife clearly understood that they are on the same side” (Zig Zigler), and not antagonists thrown onto a battlefield where the stronger part emerges bruised and triumphant, though not victorious.

Shimmer Chinodya is indeed a grandmaster at this kind of story, as he adeptly examines both the literal and metaphorical perils of individualism in the institution of marriage which makes it claustrophobic and oppressive on the individual psyche.