THIS IS LIFE

It was a Monday morning around 07:00am when Banakulu (Grandmother) was seen in the hood slowly making her way to her tenants. Banakulu was a 68 year old woman who owned a house in the hood and lived in a different area. She usually sent here grand children to collect the rentals for her every moth. Everyone in the hood knows that when Banakulu shows face it meant only one thing, her tenants had not paid rentals and things would definitely go sour if they did not pay. As Banakulu approached her house, word had gone around like bushfire that Banakulu was in the area and everyone should brace themselves. Everyone started loitering outside their yards whilst trying hard to act busy and not look obvious that they were waiting to see what would happen next.  Even though news of Banakulu’s arrival in the hood spread at lightening speed it did not get to Bana Kasakula’s house fast enough for her to “take cover”. Banakulu with a stern expression walked straight to Bana Kasakula’s hous

In its normal dramatic style the hood came to life, characterized by the young ones all running towards one direction and the adults walking hurriedly towards the same directions. This meant only one thing to get up and run towards the same direction. In my hood it doesn’t matter what it is people just follow everyone without asking questions, one decides whether to stay and watch the party or retreat and head home after they have set eyes on the drama. I ran hurried along asking anyone I made eye contact with “Nichani ayi” (what is it?), the only response I got was Kaya (I don’t know). I knew for a fact that it was not a fight, it had to be jucier than that because when it’s a fight everyone is invited to come and see it by the young ones who chant “whoo won, who won”. Aunt Yvonne as she was fondly known was the life of the party, she was married to Uncle G, an accountant at one of the filling stations. Aunt Yvonne would go out all day and drink half the night, her husband l

I was woken up to the sound of a man screaming ndefwaya ifipe fyandi, mpela ifipe fyandi (I want my things give me my things). It took about a minute for me to realize I was certainly not dreaming and that indeed it was in real life that I was hearing two people arguing or fighting. I reached out for my cell phone looked at the time it was 00:05. I reached across the other bed and shook my sister who was already awake being a light sleeper. Flo, Flo have you heard the noise out there?  “Iwe niba Dizo naba kazi bao” she retorted sounding irritated. I tiptoed to the window which was on her said of the bed and surreptitiously opened the curtain to peep outside. There I saw my neighbours husband and wife just as my sister had said. They continued shouting ndefwaya ifipe fyandi and I closed the curtain and whispered to my sister who seemed disinterested in the whole fiasco. Nanga ni fipe bwanji vamene bafuna ba dizo? To which Flo snapped at me saying go and ask him. The husband co

From my hood, I learnt at age 10 that the best thing a woman can ever do is to stay away from other people’s men and husband. I recently, watched a video of a woman who was caught committing adultery and harsh as the actions may have seemed on that video it seemed to me like a drop in the ocean compared to what I had witnessed in the hood. Our neighbor Mavis was fond of complaining about her promiscuous husband. As soon as people in the hood saw her coming they would whisper and speculate on the latest with her hubby. The latest was that he had gone AWOL and word had it that he had a new girlfriend whom he was living with in Chawama. Ba Mavy as she was fondly called in he hood was a resourceful and tenacious woman. She had the most advanced investigative skills such that no matter who her husband had an affair with she was able to find out and locate the woman. Ba Mavy came to tell the neighbors that she now knew exactly where her husband’s concubine lived and that she was