Tuesday 5 November 2013



A LETTER TO MY FATHER

I am delighted my dear Father,
Delighted to write you this letter
Though deep in my heart l know,
Know it may never reach you
So Father l have my fingers crossed
Praying and hoping the post-man will do me a favour
And deliver this letter to you

Father l wrote to say, to ask and to seek
Father you left my side before l had hatched,
You left before l could judge the world
My mind still too young to understand why two plus two makes four
Father l ask,
‘’Are you satisfied that you left a clueless, innocent child behind you’’
Reply in your next letter

This is a letter to you Father
To remind you that the chick has grown into a hen
I have grown into a young maiden
Full of questions and wonder
My heart beats fast in search of wisdom
And then l smile and think how it would have been nice
Nice to write to you and ask
‘’ Father am l now old enough to own a male “
How anxiously l would have waited for your reply
And what you would have wrote would have been my command

Father they say a lot about me
The male say lm proud ,
The females naive.
But l am not Father
All l know it that lam lost ,
Lost in a world l do not own
I seek for answers my dear Father
You are a man and have gone through a lot,
Now l ask
“How does one know they are in love and he in turn feels for her?”
I plead, try and reply.

It would have been lovely
To speak to you face to face
Shy l would have been but confidence l would have regained
For you are my Father
It’s a shame you and l can never meet
For we now belong in different worlds
Though apart we might be in flesh
In hearts and memories we will remain in each other

By Amanda Ranganawa


I wrote this poem whilst l was still doing my ‘’O’’ Level at Sakubva 1 High in Mutare. In memory of my late  Father. Currently lm an Honours in Theatre Arts Student at the University of.Zimbabwe

Short Story : Getting to know the other family



GETTING TO KNOW THE OTHER FAMILY

My Mother saw it wise to ask her friend whom she hadn’t seen for years to stay with me. After all, l had failed to attain accommodation at school and hence staying with her friend, a lecturer at the University of  Zimbabwe seemed very appropriate. I was excited to meet her and any of her family members. Having been raised from a very strict, well mannered and hard working  family myself, l was 100% sure l would fit in perfectly. Little did l know that my worst nightmares were soon to come. Nonetheless, before we get into that, let me explain a few things about myself. I am a conserved person, who likes her life quite and simple. I do my best at school and enjoy my sleep. I hate rude lazy people and loud mouths. I like order you know. Scattered things drive me insane. Above all l hate being treated like a no-body. There, that’s a bit about me. Now back to my story.

Where were we?. Oh yeah now l remember. The friend, who fondly called herself by her maiden surname Ms Chateya, after many failed marriages, brought me into her house and made it very clear on the first day that she wanted a cook, a laundry washer, cleaner, baby sitter- basically a house maid out of me. I could not have argued there and there with her for l was desperate for a place to stay since all my relatives lived far-away. More so, l had arrived in the evening and feeling sleepy l had ignored most of her demands. Since she had presented her demands in a roundabout manner, l assumed that she was joking. So I had just nodded in agreement as a way of shutting her up. The way she kept insisting on me cooking and cleaning made me realize that l was about to stay with the laziest woman l had ever seen. Yet.


The next day, to my surprise. l realized that she was staying with one of her sons. I had not seen him the previous evening when l arrived nor had she spoken of him. He was the last born out of the four older ones. All five of her kids had different fathers. Talk of trying her luck with Cupid. The young man, slightly younger than me, Peter, did not greet me when he first saw me. He ignored me. Even when l greeted him. I mean, how rude can someone be!. Anyway, as l started to cook and clean he started warming up to me. That’s when l realized that he and his Mother where so lazy they had almost starved each other to death. Soon indeed, l was the total 360 degrees housemaid. The woman and her son were professional room messers. Everything they touched always turned into a filthy mess. To add on to my cleaning after them, l had to help pay for the house bills, grocery, satellite dish, car fuel and Peter’s bus fare to school. Each morning became ‘’a give Peter money’’ morning. The woman was slowly pushing me.

It didn’t take me long to realize that Peter was a total failure. A couch potato, who spend his entire time on his X-Box. He was an ‘’A level’’ student without any form 4.  He had collected Us only in his form 4. Out of embarrassment, and not wanting to be behind his friends, he skipped himself to an ‘’ A’’ Level class. Where he arrogantly, and with no direction, or any sense of responsibility, did Commercials. It’s a private, greedy college which he attends by the way. He only went to the college to see his girlfriend. Shame. Poor girl magnetic to a loser. 

When he went out, he came late or early in the morning. Drank like a fish, and had his Mother’s phone filled with pornographic videos. Aaaaaaghhhh….l deleted them when l saw them. I could have sworn that the Mother also watched those videos and pretended to be a Christian. Be that as it may, none had the audacity to confront me about it.  However, one thing that really irritated me was the fact that no-one could watch TV as long as Peter was playing his games. Seriously, what’s a girl to do without her daily dose of lsidingo, Generations and Muvhango, not to talk of X- Factor?. Even the Mother couldn’t control him as he always insulted her. More like intimidated a more than willing victim. At one time he rented out her huge flat screen and before she could confront him. He had insulted and bullied her into silence. I felt sorry for her. She was totally incapable of thinking for herself. Her major weakness was always asking for permission from her son to do anything. On my part, her major annoyance was demanding that l listen to her stories about her day even in the middle of the night. I mean lm a quiet person for heaven’s sake!. I like my life peaceful !!!.

Now lm not saying that talking is wrong but this woman was a chatter box fully charged. If l tried to go to sleep she would hit my legs as she talked. Or …walked about the room the whole night. Throwing books, smashing the bedroom door, rearranging her books, rearranging pots in a very loud manner. Now as a student who came every night tired. I felt really tormented that at one point l cried in my sleep. So l decided to sleep in the dining room, again she followed. This time she would pretend that l was listening and talk endlessly, whilst adding more and more volume on the TV. She was mad. And her madness was slowly driving me mad. I tried to talk to her into keeping the volume low and she bitched me and told me it was her house. Oh… okay. So l told the son who was more than willing to show her that he was in charge. So Ms Chateya’s bedroom movements lessened. Thank heavens.

One evening she started complaining about people not giving money to her second from last son, Tinashe who wanted to come to Harare from Mutare, but he didn’t have money. She asked me for money but l denied having any. Which wasn’t a lie since she had drained me dry of all my school fees money. Besides she was the one who had a job and should have never asked me for money. Heartless woman. I also thought that the son she was busy crying about was still young, maybe in his very early twenties. I was shocked to see a 29year old man, enter the house claiming to be her son the following afternoon. I was vexed. A Mamma’s boy had arrived. 

The house now had 3 official mad people. And they all piled their madness, not on each other, but ME. Tinashe was very irritating. He talked like a parrot and chattered like a monkey non-stop. A replica of his Mother. He drove me mad. He commented on everything from the weather, to politics, to the economy and to very irrelevant issues. Issues that had nothing to do with the price of rice in China!.  An absolute know it all. Even in the evening’s l couldn’t study because his beak of a mouth refused to stay shut. He would even follow me to the bedroom where l would be trying to change to go to school, demanding that l listen to him. One day l got angry and told him to ‘’GET OUT!”.

His Mother on the other hand was piling her clothes in the washing basket, hoping l would wash them. Alas, l refused and pretended like l wasn’t seeing the full basket.  The other young man remained lazy, dirty and disrespectful. Only his looks saved his thousand times folded fore head.

Peter and Tinashe were brothers due to a biological and geographical error. They hardly ever talked.  Tinashe seemed to be afraid of Peter as he always put himself below his young brother each time they talked. One day Ms Chateya decided to fumigate the house. It had so many cockroaches everywhere. Since the house had been harboring people who had never heard of the word cleaning, cockroaches had biblically multiplied. Tinashe offered to do it after his trip to town but she was very impatient and she did it herself. Without any nose protection, any old unwanted clothes on, without gloves or any protection. She sprayed the kitchen. I mean how stupid can someone be?. To make matters worse she stayed in the kitchen after spraying it. She started coughing hard, eyes now red and saliva pouring out of her mouth. I rushed down stairs to Peter who was sleeping in the car and told him to come help her. He said matter of fact that he had warned her about it and she can die for all he cares. What?!!!.

I had never known such a confused and uncaring family. I ran back and pulled her out of the kitchen and gave her milk. That same day l went to school and started searching for accommodation. Luckily a foreign girl had fallen sick and l was able to move in to her room. Leaving that house was a dream come true. At least l had learnt something, which is to raise my sons better. To be confident in myself, thankful of my education and to remain hardworking.

Writen by Amanda Ranganawa

Sunday 29 September 2013

Valued




















Valued

You are the beauty that l see        
The modulation of my feet and the rapture of my heart.                 
You bring out the divine in me     
making me the finest wine of all times                                        

When you molded me
You chose four words to define me,
Beauty, brains, perseverance and hardwork
You played the tune on the piano that
seized, sizzled and grizzled my soul
I fear not no man, events or words
Because only you make my knees bow down 

l will not fear the pressures of time, youth and society
Because u created me for a greater purpose 
l am a girl with a spiritual father who loves me
Beyond the eyes of man and the tongues of my enemies

He lifts me higher and never down
 
Realizing my worth and potential and telling me softly                      
l created you to be the Master of your universe

Written by Amanda Ranganawa


Friday 26 April 2013

For the love of life - Deliver me a Man, Not a Boy

Deliver me a Man
By Amanda Ranganawa(2014)

Deliver me a Man
not a boy
lm not searching for little patters
down the hall
lm looking for feet up the stairs
Accompanied by a hoarse voice
full of authority and confidence

Deliver me a Man
not a boy
lm not searching for a whiner and complainer
who leans on me for his standing
lm looking for broad shoulder
that know how to lift their own burdens

And yet still still manage to lift me
                                                                protect me and provide for me
                                                                Deliver me a Man
                                                                Not a boy.

Saturday 9 March 2013

FOR THE LOVE OF YOU


MIRIAM MAKUNDIDZE

MOULD HIM
             

           Mould him Father God
Let him be strong enough to carry both our burdens
Wise enough to make worthwhile decisions
Humble enough to give a hand
           
            Mould him Jehovah
Let his touch be gentle      
His kiss be soft
His hug warm and strong enough to quieten my fears
           
           Mould him Messiah
Let his love for me be pure, true and everlasting
Let him respect, trust and honor me
Let him love me with all my imperfections
              
          Mould him Lamb of God
Let him be prayerful
Let him be THE MAN
            Mould him Holy Spirit
            Mould my husband

Thursday 21 February 2013

For the love of a new beginning


MY PAST IS OVER

As l look around and gather things for my journey
l realise that l havent reached my tally
As the trials and tribulations sweep me across the valley
l breathed heavily, in and out , as l reach for my Yahweh
My mind twisting and curling as l recall sadly
The events that captured , fascinated and ;
and left deep cuts into my heart

The definations and evaluations of sin that l calculated
Only managed to land me in theft, prostitution and murder
Drugs , alchahol , rapist and liar were my middle identities
All l knew back then was that l had to
jump fences, duck cops and shoot back to survive

ln my fast diversion and quick cornering of the lane, l had the church choir
singing salvation and how much he loved me
Or was it me they sang to or just for themselves?
l cursed the melodic voices for singing lies
and yet as we the sinners live they are supposed to be saved

l was running further and deeper with the
wind blowing my frail body like a plastic bag
My heart was giving in, my knees were crumpling
l needed rest and immediatey l found it
As l heard a loud, deadly and dreaded sound
And then there was silence and then darkness

They later told me that l woke up after a month
The Saints had found me and like the good Samaritan
had done all they could
with all their belief and might to save my life
They told me about the grace and kindness of Yahweh


And l cried, and cried, and cried
Because l had never known that he not only cared
but had feelings that swept across oceans
thoughts that rose to the heavens
dreams that conquered all nature
and love that exceeded humanity's
For me
There and there l looked at my Yahweh
And realised that l am saved
And my past is over

Tuesday 12 February 2013

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY TO MY POETRY LOVERS


I LOVE HIM…
I prayed because l was in need
I prayed because l had him
I prayed so l could keep him,
Need him,
Have him love me.

He has the patience of a lover
The charm and gentleness of a Prince
He has the voice of a movie star,
The beauty of an angel
And the eyes of a man in love.
I love him because he loves me
He means so much to me
I pray for him more than l pray for myself

He is the greatest example of love
That l can ever give anyone
When he holds my hand,
Holds me tight,
Puts me on his chest,
I find it hard to breath.
I love him because he loved me first

I love him because he has the beautiful brown eyes of a man in love
I try, l have tried, tried so hard to forget him
But l have found it hard to forget him,
To leave him
Because l love him.

A SHORT STORY FOR MY READERS


RELEASED    

I was surprised. Shocked. Amused. And then Confused.
Coming out of pain and ill-treatment l didn’t understand why the magnetic forces were so strong. I had always wished for a shoulder to lean on , a hand to wipe my tears and a heart to love me. So young, naive and still fresh from emotional and psychological abuse from the hands of my Grandmother. I found myself in the middle of the tar road with a young man declaring his love for me.

He said he could even die for me. At that moment l wanted so much to be cared for. He looked like my –could – be knight in shining armor. He wooed so strongly and convincingly, l found  myself  giving him a chance. A week passed and l wanted to run away from him. He cared too much , had me followed too much , spoke and introduced me to people as his wife too much , wanted to fondle me too much. I became afraid.

I felt caged. l wanted time to heal from my past and clear my head and feelings. I tried to explain but his were deaf ears.  Alas, all he wanted was a serious relationship. I started ducking and avoiding him. At those times l either failed or succeeded in doing so. We broke up so many times, l stopped counting.
Years passed and l realised l could never love him. He acted as if he loved me so strongly but each time he tried to force himself into my heart it closed further and further inside. I just couldn’t let him in. For three and a half years l tried. Tried so hard it almost drove me into insanity. I wanted to understand why he loved me so much or rather why he was so obsessed with me.

He knew everywhere l went on vacations. Knew every number l had and did all he could to jeopardise any new relationship l had. I grew a detestful dependency syndrome. Every time l felt empty and lonely, l ran back to him and he would more than willingly, gladly seize the opportunity to get me back. Each time that happened we would be happy for a day or two after that l would realise l could never love him.

He noticed. Suddenly, he wanted to hurt me. To punish me for not loving him. At first l couldn’t clearly recognise the tell-tell signs and so l ignored them. However, after constant sarcastic calls and texts l became unsettled. He pursued me harder, judged me more harshly, persisted on sleeping with me and followed my tracks like a hungry wolf. He wanted either to cause me physical harm or emotional pain. Between these two was his goal and he had to achieve it. I finally saw the plain writing on the wall the day he tried to drag me into his house. I was angry and felt violated but l thanked God l had overpowered him outside.

He came back to apologise, and again declare his undying love. He had created a gap between me and the only guy l had ever loved for the first time. During the absence of the guy l loved, he had came and played psychological games on me. Made me feel guilty for not returning his undying love. I felt guilty and undeserving of my current boyfriend. So l let him go. Weeks passed and my tormenter still reminded me of how l would never belong to anyone else except him.

I wanted to fight him, like l had always did for the past three and a half years but l was tired. I thank God l grew tired for in a way it rescued me. Released me. On the day of my birthday he came to see me, empty handed. He knew that him being the   current ‘’boyfriend’’ l would be hurt because l had just celebrated his birthday with him a month before. My birthday meant a lot to me but his presence even though it didn’t mean much to me, l hoped he had changed his possessive and negative attitude and we could move on. I wished. He came and pretended as if it was just like any ordinary Friday. All he talked about was how l should love him and do as he says concerning ‘’our relationship ‘’. I was hurt and wanted to put him in his right place.

Common sense told me to surrender. I texted him and told him he had won. Finally, he had managed to hurt my feelings. I gladly informed him in good detail. He must have felt so much joy for he never called back or texted again. l felt disappointed at myself for having allowed him into my life in the first place. Nonetheless, l was released; no more did l have to have him blackmail me into loving him. l was vindicated. Until...

By Amanda Ranganawa
A   2nd   Year Honours in Theatre Student at the University of Zimbabwe

Tuesday 29 January 2013

FOR THE LOVE OF MY FELLOW WOMEN

 PUZZLED

Life is funny
Even the devil can charm a beauty,
a song bird
by just a silly pick-up line
Mermaids fall for weeds of the sea
Simply because the weeds are good-looking

lke battered Tina Turner
Bobby damaged Whitney
Tell me what happens
How do we fall in love?
And stay in love with men that
smooth us,
rock us
And yet
pinch us,
strangle us,
suffocate , imprison and destroy us

Where do we go wrong?
Here's my prayer
Lord sit here, lets talk

Why are we the vulnerable ones?
Why are we the ones that are on the receiving end?
Our cheeks receive slaps
Our legs the kicks
Our stomachs the countless kicks
Our black eyes the mocking looks
Explain to me God
Why?.


*STOP WOMEN ABUSE!!!*

Wednesday 16 January 2013

For The Love of Poetry, For The Love of You.



Amanda ''Miss Mandy '' Ranganawa

 Dear Diary

May 21 2012
Alex swung me on the swings
My hair fall and rose like the titans
My heart so filled it hang on to bursts
On his hands he held the lilies to my heart

May 22 2012
Diary , diary ,diary
He kissed me!
Held me.
Diary
Heaven and Earth breathed a sigh
I felt lust in between my legs
He knew
And he stared deep into me
Whilst digging inside me

May 23 2012
Alex and l have faced silence
The volcanoes almost erupted
I had melted
And then like the wind l blew away.
He called
Ignored

May 24 2012
Oh Diary
His heart calls for me
His face appears in my dreams, in my awaken face
As l block, like a bull he advances forward
My guardians tell him to
Disappear
Scatter
 And vanish

May 25 2012
Diary,  l am speechless.
Breathless,
Enchanted,
Diary, he came on a horse
Knocked till l opened
And there he stood with my Cindrella slipper
Heralding for everyone’s attention
Making his bow his servants and his words royalty
And his tearful eyes, his heart.
My lips fell on him, and he held on to me.