What inspires you to write?

What brings me to write? This is a difficult question, perhaps it is so because I have problems, challenges even, in conceptualizing the term inspire or inspiration. For me inspire and her sibling inspiration stimulate a certain degree of temporality. Inspiration comes and goes, even when the inspiration and all other factors such as a story needing attention, an emotion requiring to be evoked, one might fail to write. In this respect, I will answer the unasked question, what brings you write? What brings me to write is the opportunity to see beyond inspiration, it brings me closer to a pattern, my pattern. The interesting thing is that this creative pattern is a mist to me. 

What brings me to write is an emotion. It is the voices of characters inside of my head conversing with me, telling me their narratives, the demons that keep them awake at night. What brings me to write is a strong belief that I have a story to tell – it creates an intimate relationship with my laptop. What brings me to write is the gratification of creating, even if I am the only one who reads my work. What brings me to write is the desire to be like the authors I position at a pedestal. What brings me to write is, life, living and existence. 

Do you think there is a difference between a writer and an author?

For me a writer cannot be separated from an author. This is so because an author is judged though assessed is the appropriate term, through the works they would have written, published or otherwise. A writer is an author in motion, in transit creating and weaving stories that awards him the accolade of being addressed as an author. 

What is it about the diaspora experience that made you want to contribute to this anthology?

To leave. The desire to leave the country in search of alleged greens is a reality that has gripped many people, young and old, not only in Zimbabwe but across the continent. The possible dislocation people experience, the joy of being away from death and incarceration as they navigate their lives in a foreign country, attracted me to the Brilliance of Hope. I found myself fascinated, being drawn to the Brilliance of Hope because it brings us closer to capturing our own voices, owning our experiences. Our experiences and voices might not mean so much when outside one’s border, so the only other option is to write!

How do you think your works in this anthology contribute to the history and future of the Zimbabwean dispersion? 

I hope my stories in this anthology manage to reflect the experiences of Zimbabweans in diaspora. I hope I have shared our story, the story of us abandoned, alone and constantly dying because home was no longer home so we had to find home outside of home. As the voices continue to speak, reality taking away our voice, visions and dreams, I hope these stories manage to reflect on the Brilliance of Hope, in its entirety. I hope we will have a conversation on the legacy we are leaving behind when we decide to disown our home, identity and experiences. I hope home will be able to claim her children before they are chewed and vomited by a diaspora experience.   

Briefly describe your writing journey, from how you started to where you are today.

 A journey is usually associated with a beginning, a midpoint and a possible arrival to the intended destination, even though in several cases the destination might have been transmuted to an unintended one along the way. If one is daring, independence can be interrogated using the same lenses. A journey begins with traceable roots, places that carry significant memories, fond memories of having conceived dreams translating to the need to begin a journey. Embark on a journey. This hasn’t been the case with me. The beginning, end and state of progression are entangled in each other, it is difficult to ascertain where I am today let alone where I am coming from. In the midst of such confusion and thoughts united with smokescreen, perhaps. I could say I was drawn to reading from an early age, reading my elder sibling’s set books before I was five. I am not sure if this actually happened, it could be a figment of my imagination or memories of an unremembered past. I do have scripts written 16 years ago, when I was probably 16. 

How do you want your work to be remembered?

I hope to push the boundaries of form and style. To be remembered for blending pain and the will to survive.

Would you like to share anything about yourself to help your readers connect with you?

Two of my three stories were initially intended as one story. Good thing these stories have a mind of their own.

Who is your favourite writer and why?

This is not an easy question especially for a reader and writer. This is so because a writer spends a significant amount of his time consuming, devouring with an insatiable appetite the works of people they generate inspiration from. This is not limited to the ones they love. A writer can be drawn to the books that frustrate and agitate them. All the same, the reading doesn’t stop, and in most cases it sets a certain creative fire ablaze. For me, a favorite writer is something that elusive and fleeting. When I finished reading Chimamanda’s Half of a Yellow Sun, it didn’t have any lasting effect on me at first. As is usually the case with reading, my own type of reading precisely, the characters Olana, Kainene, Ugwu and Richard began to whisper to me, flipping through the pages of their experiences of Biafra. Without rereading the book to confirm anything, I found myself with a renewed fascination and appreciation of the story. The same feeling was reproduced when I read Lady Chatterley’s Lover by DH Lawrence. Then there are other books that I have lost myself in, in an instant. These include Ngugi wa Thiongo’s Petals of Blood, House of Stone by Novuyo Rosa Tshuma and Waiting for the Rain by Charles Mungoshi, Butterfly Burning by Yvonne Vera among others.

 What are your future writing aspirations?

To write a 1000 paged fast paced novel. Perhaps in an unending stream-less flood. 

What is your biggest dream?

Dreams mean hope, commitment to a vision and remaining optimistic that like truth, the dreams will set us free. Unfortunately, I believe nothing germinates in these consecrated lands. But having dreadlocks that flow to my shoulders seems kinda cool. 

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BRILLIANCE OF HOPE

Editors’ note on Kudzi's 3 stories:

The Interview is a riveting, fast-paced read in dialogue format. The author’s playfulness with form adds a layer of complexity to this story, for instance employing dashes in place of inverted commas to signal discourse between the characters – a style we witness throughout his stories in this anthology. Musa is a Zimbabwean doing well in Rwanda, to the frustration of his gateman Jon Paolo – a local who is shamed by his friends for being a foreigner’s glorified door opener. Musa’s life at home is strained, but the estrangement of his wife remains a mystery to him. Could the tragic end of this story be the missing piece to his puzzle?

These Were the Voices presents an abstract, heavily layered, multidimensional story about resilience and hope. Beautifully crafted poetic prose, laced with patterns through rhythm, imagery and metaphors throughout. Grace in part (i) is an illegal immigrant who endures a hellish job at a publishing house in Rwanda. Anesu Mufakose in part (ii), another illegal who left Zimbabwe due to push factors including the declining economy, political upheaval and drought, against his mother’s wishes, only to find himself living in squalor in a home that feels like a coffin. He is overworked in a restaurant where he feels secluded. Holy, Grace’s father whom we only meet once in part (iii) is a man who performed atrocities on his own daughter in the name of religion – deeds that shed some light on Grace’s mental state. In the end, two of the characters, eking out a survival in a foreign land, are united (perhaps by fate) in a bizarre grand finale which one could only hope leads them to inner peace. 

Untitled, a heart-shredding story that explores the life of a mixed-race woman torn apart by trauma - a trauma that doesn’t have a name, but continues to crush her to a point where she is confronted by homelessness. There are many nameless things Martha has to endure, but with very little success, including being abandoned by her parents and everyone she is fond of. The plight of being foreign, feeling like she does not belong, not being accepted by her own (white) mother, suffering in silence and sticking to being a wallflower to avoid causing trouble. The themes of identity crisis, death, spirituality, loveless interracial relationships and hope, amongst others, are explored in a relatable plot. The author skilfully brings the diaspora back to Zimbabwe through Martha and weaves in some pertinent issues affecting Zimbabweans - the declining economy, corruption, to name but a few.