From Boys to Men: Part One and Part Two

By Innocent B Hondo Chirawu

From Boys to Men Part One & Part Two is basically an account of some of the experiences which were encountered by the author mainly from the time he was aged twelve right up to his adulthood. There is a deliberate effort by the author, to shade a picture of a metarmorphosis or transformation of his life as part and parcel of his journey from childhood to adulthood, hence, the catch title 'From Boys to Men'. Besides talking about his village life as a Nyachuru primary school going lad until that was shaken by the then Rhodesian 'protected village/Kipi curfew life', the author talked at great length about his life as a Howard secondary school boarder. Unlike Part Two whereby the author, quoting a lot of Bible verses is basically attempts to directly inspire, motivate, teach and share what he views as stubborn faith as well as consencration in the 'Born Again' believer' journey to Heaven, in Part One he uses a different approach. The approach in Part One, although it sounds dominantly autobigraphical, the author, once in blue moon though, also utilised his creative and imaginary writing skills for the sake of emphasis or clarity of the picture of both the actual and possible phenomena in his past, be it dialogues, conversations or whatever incidents. Obviously , a detailed or graphic memories some of the conversations and some of the incidents which transpired during those past decades at times may not have been as fresh as the time they took place. The author tried his best to remember all that he could remember to make his account not only a complete story but also an interesting story to read.
At the end of both Part One and Two of the book, the author provides an opportunity for the reader to, just as he himself did at the age of ninteeen, consider placing their faith in Jesus Christ and accept Him as their personal Lord and Saviour too.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Jun 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781984595430

Book preview

Copyright © 2020 by Innocent B Hondo Chirawu.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Scripture quotations marked KJV are from the Holy Bible, King James Version (Authorized Version). First published in 1611. Quoted from the KJV Classic Reference Bible, Copyright © 1983 by The Zondervan Corporation.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 06/23/2020

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Contents

Part One

Save The Last Dance For Who?

Chapter 1

Pre-Kipi and pre-boarding school life

Chapter 2 Holiday time and life in the Kipi

Chapter 3 The new school, an entirely new world

Chapter 4 Be careful what you read

Chapter 5 Different teachers with different personalities and approaches

Chapter 6 Teaching is more than a profession, it’s a vocation

Chapter 7 The 1976 School Strike and Mudi’s senior student friend

Chapter 8 Miscellaneous flashbacks

Chapter 9 Debate Club sessions

Chapter 10 What’s the conclusion of whole matter?

Appendice 1

Appendice 2

Part Two

Chapter 1 Confidence, Stubborn Faith & Concencration

Chapter 2 I Love Hot Questions Because I Have Hot Answers

Chapter 3 Making Good Choices And Good Confessions

Chapter 4 Stubborn Faith & Consecration Boosting Confessions

Chapter 5 Let Go Legalism & Believe In Jesus Christ The Lord

Reference

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Part One

SAVE THE LAST DANCE FOR WHO?

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Chapter 1

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PRE-KIPI AND PRE-

BOARDING SCHOOL LIFE

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Somewhere between the Masvisva mountains and the Sawi river lies four villages which Ensend M or (Mudi) was as familiar with as a veteran taxi driver knows his business town or city. During the liberation war of the seventies people of Mudi’s village and of three other villages were all gathered up from their traditional homesteads and bundled together with their basic belongings; beds, sleeping mats, linen, pots, their chickens, cats and dogs into the then ruling apartheid regime‘s District Development Fund (DDF) lorries. Mudi remembers one day, before they were moved into the so-called ’protected village’/Kipi or Curfew fence when, while carving an adze (a small carving axe) handle from under a Mutuna tree in their yard, he heard an explosive or thunderous sound which caused the ground under his bare feet to vibrate for a few seconds. He had then quickly walked towards the their kitchen, which like most of their neighbours’ kitchens were built with farm bricks and thatched with grass, where his grandma vaChihera who had been busy molding a clay pot, was now walking towards the door to check on him.

Come inside, quick, quick and sit on the bench there’, she said shutting the door behind Mudi. You heard that explosive sound, eh!’, she said touching one of the shiny clay pots, which exhibited below its neck, a chevron pattern painted with alternating white, black, yellow, red and green colours as well as a maroon decoration in the middle of two opposite sides.

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The clay pot sat tilted at the top of a vertical arrangement of clay pots which relatively or proportionally increased in size from the top to the bottom – three per column. She put the small clay pot back to its proper position and continued talking, "That must be a landmine explosion and from the sound of it that might be beyond Majome, maybe Chombira or even a bit further. Dai zvaSmiti zvachipera izvi tiwane kuzvitonga kuzere/I wish we get our independence soon". Mudi seems to recall the year as 1973 when he was in primary Grade 6 and there were some rumours circulating that the Smith regime was planning to move the villagers into Kipis. Mudi remembers wishing that day of getting bundled into Kipis would never come and as a way of distracting his mind from the ‘idea of life in a fence’ he started counting grandma’s clay pots, both the ones on the shiny raised platform and the ones which she had molded and skillfully baked using her own improvised kiln of a pit, dry cow dung, dry grass and dry twigs that month and were ready for painting. Mudi recalls every step and action his grandma took in her pottery business, from digging out the best clay to the decorating and painting of the artifacts before she allowed the paint to dry and stored them mainly for either for sale. Once in a blue moon she would pick one or two either for blessing someone else with it as a present or for her our own use. On the platform there were three rows running in a straight line from one on end of the platform to the other, making them a sum total of nine gorgeous clay pots since they were three per column. As for those which were ready for painting, they were on the floor along the kitchen wall behind where Mudi’s grandma was sitting. They were neatly arranged in a similar manner like those on the platform except that most of the columns had four, three or two pots only. There were also a few different clay products which looked like jars and bowls independently placed mainly around the edges of those which were neatly arranged in columns and curved lines along the round kitchen wall - that section of the kitchen which in the event of a funeral in the family, would traditionally be divided or barricaded by means of a long curtain hung onto a strong rope or wire secured to the part where the walls kiss the kitchen roof. The rope or wire would run diagonally through the centre of the room where the fire place is normally found, straight to the other side of the kitchen, leaving the kitchen door fully on the other resultant half-moon-shaped compartment accommodating the traditional kitchen bench. It would right in that curtain-concealed section where the body of the deceased would lie in state usually guarded the deceased’s mother or her representative and her comforter. The rest of the women except maybe a few who could attending to other duties like cooking and so on, would be occupying the rest of the kitchen singing funeral songs with a few men sitting on the kitchen bench. The majority of the men would be sitting outside at the dare (counsel base) and usually around a log fire, especially at night, to keep themselves warm as well as to scare aware some harmful nocturnal creatures. Here, any important or scores needing to be settled both related or unrelated to the deceased would usually be discussed. On a lighter note, lots of stories including life style of the deceased, especially any cherished memories, local, national and international affairs and politics would also be discussed. Mourning time could take two, three or even more nights, depending on the age of the deceased and other different factors, before the burial. Mudi remembers that it was at one of such ‘men’s dare’ chats, like three decades after and in a different location though, where he listened to a friend war veteran from his neighbourhood giving a detailed account of how him and other equally brave comrades smartly and skillfully planned and carried out the ‘BP Shell Tanks Blast’ operation from a strategic kopje top and that was like the last straw for Smith’s oppressive minority regime.

Back in grandma’s kitchen, Mudi who apparently was still busy counting grandma’s clay pots silently to himself, suddenly stopped soon after realising that grandma was now praying, uttering some recitations in very low tones which paramounted to whispering as she simultaneously kept gently touching the sky-blue-coloured beads of her Rosary. ‘The Holy Rosary’ reminded Mudi of the ‘Roman Catholic Mass services’ he regularly attended with grandma at Majome parish which was like eight kilometres away. There Mudi also participated as an altar boy with a few other boys who were members of the parish. From where he was sitting on that c-shaped traditional bench of their traditional hut which they simply called ‘kitchen’, Mudi automatically joined grandma’s prayer even though he did not have a set of The Holy Rosary himself. Because, he was quite familiar with some of the recitations involved in relation to the touching of certain beads, all he did was watch grandma’s finger movements on her Rosary beads whenever he failed to figure out the corresponding words from the movement of her lips. Some of the recitations he could say by heart without looking at the Rosary included ‘Kwaziwayi Maria muzere girasio, Mambo anemi, makakomborerwa pane vamwe vakadzi … . akakomborerwa Mwana wemimba yenyu Yesu. Mari musande mai vaMwari muti reverere isu vatadzi zvino, nepanguva yekufa kwedu …’

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"Tisvikewo! Go go goyi, pane vanhu here?"/Hullo, is there anybody?’ a voice came from the outside. It was clearly the sound of the voice of their neighbour vaPerepetiya/Perpetual (not real name). "Tiripo, svikai henyu/ We’re here, you’re welcome", said Mudi’s grandma loudly enough for the visitor to hear as she put back her Rosary into the small clay bowl where she normally kept it. Mudi opened the door for vaPerepetiya who spoke as she entered the grass-thatched with a soot-tainted ceiling, "Ko zvamakatodekara zvenyu nhai mbuya nemuzukuru. Ko mukafira mumba muno! Mazvinzwa here kuti hanzi kwa Chidewu chaputikaka. Mukati gore rino tinopona imi? Hanzika, ungazoti ndo masoja aSmiti vanotipfuvisa aye here, hanzi vaitwa hukata kata kunge matamba arohwa nemheni ziye zvokusara pasina kana bhunu rimwe rimire’/You wouldn’t want to die inside this kitchen, Smith’s soldiers have been killed like flies

Reviews for From Boys to Men

[Innocent Chirawu · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

It's African flavour exotic to to the so-called first world society and it's inclusion of inspiring nuggets of tenacity of faith in The Gospel of Christ