Star-crossed Lover
He loved me when no one would
He brought me wild fruit in a wooden plate
He squeezed the teats of the mother cow
whilst I opened my mouth under its bulging udder
Feeling the warm milk fill my mouth
He aimed at a lone bird with his sling shot
and offered me its fire roasted meat on our date.
He glided with me on the slippery rocks of Tshangane River
After an adventurous swim with the crocodiles
He kept his eyes on the herd of cattle grazing on the plain
While his hand caressed my cheek
We rolled in the dewy grass
He smelt of cow dung and unprocessed milk
Of the wild umkhemeswane fruit
And the bold sweat of toil in the green fields
He respected my innocence
Spoke of sending a delegation to my family
Of giving my father a herd of cattle
Of siring strong little boys and girls
Of a thousand moons passed in the most elegant pose
Of counting stars and singing along with the rain bird
Of changing seasons, flowing rivers and crackling fire in winter
‘What Have You Brought Us’
She chants from the pavements
She is not a beggar
She is the queen of the black market
Her head is adorned with a white doek
She has more currency than the World Bank
She is more powerful than a graduate
The rate is dictated by her mood
They envy her trade
They envy her dominion
She has no office
The pavements are her office
She is her own pay master
Her pay slip is engraved in her heart
Her skin glows in the city sun
Her bosom is round and warm
where powerful currencies are shoved
In her business there is no room for negotiations
It's a take or leave it.
Ebony Black
I’m ebony black
Never been bleached.
Beautiful like a black petunia
I walk to the interview room leaving other hopefuls behind.
He barks ‘enter'
I slide into his office, my resume in my sweaty palms
He frowns, I smile.
My African teeth crooked and pointed
Escape from my lips
The holes in my nose big and gaping
Suck the air in his office
My hair kinky and neatly combed
Stands at attention.
He weighs me and guffaws ‘ No job’
I mumble a weak ‘Thank you’
Unspoken thoughts fight for freedom to be heard
My brother, you didn’t check my resume
I have a masters, a bachelor's, wait, a diploma underneath all that
I have ten years’ experience
I have an award and a certificate of excellence
I did voluntary work
I helped an old lady cross a busy street
I rescued a snared puppy
I decrypted an intriguing password
I worked twenty five hours a day
My black skin did not interfere
My crooked teeth stayed well inside my lips
I have never bleached brother, but I can work forty eight hours a day if you want.
For better, for worse
Sanitize, Maintain a social distance, Sneeze into your elbow
Did anyone stop to think
Of that man working in the far off lands?
Lockdown!
He is holding a hammer
The last nail needs to be hit
He is holding a syringe
He can’t put it down
Lockdown! Final warning
Mummy where is daddy?
Quiet Princess, he will be here soon!
Inwardly she is conflicted
What if he has the virus?
Am I prepared to die with him?
Somebody is there a law for spouses?
He is knocking on the door
Stand back! She says
Open up darling, I missed you
I have to sanitize you
Did you really miss me?
I missed you but please I need to call help line
I need a home test kit
My husband might have Covid-19
Darling, can I get in
Daddy is home, mummy
Stay back
Honey you said for better, for worse
Let me in
Put on the mask, Wash your hands, Remove your clothes
Wait, you coughed
Are you scared I will infect you?
But you said for better, for worse
Banqobile Virginia Dakamela is a writer who hails from Bulawayo, Zimbabwe. Her previously published short story has appeared in an anthology that was once studied in the country's high schools and is being studied at a local university. She is in the process of publishing her novels.