The Sunday Mail
Juliana Makonise, Lower Six Dominican Convent School
Dashing out of our cubic room in the Matapi Flats,I feel relieved after spending the last two hours performing the tedious household chores, whilst everyone was asleep. Hearing the sound of cars speeding across the highway, I know I am late. I bid farewell to my loving mother then immediately grasp my antique bag firmly in my hand and rush off to St Peters School, 15 kilometres away. Mbare is where I have resided since childhood.
As l strode to school, the air is filled with the delightful smell of sugar buns from Dee’s Bakery. My stomach starts to grumble, tempting me to treat myself. Instead, I abruptly go straight to one of the vendors to acquire a pen. I prioritize my education and plan on buying my family a bigger house once I become a doctor.
“Copacabana, town! Mbare!”shouts one of the commuter omnibus conductors. People flock to the vehicle just to secure a seat, else they will wait another hour to get transport. In the blink of an eye, the vehicle stops just a few inches ahead of me, a distance enough to almost run me over.
“I hold my breath for a second and say a silent prayer, thanking God for saving me. Thus goes the hustle I go through every day.
I enter the school gate just a few minutes before the bell goes and run towards the classroom. I get there only to find my English teacher conducting the lesson already. With his glasses below his eyes, he summons me to come in and books me for detention. Sixty pairs of eyes remain fixed at me as I awkwardly walk to my seat and sink into my chair. Three hours later, pens are now tapping on the desks. Today is everyone’s best day, Friday.
We are all anxious to go for the weekend. I hear the cling of the bell and sprint home to have kapenta and sadza for lunch.
Afterwards, I wash the dishes then hastily run to play netball with my friends, filling the air with dust as if there is a whirlwind. Time seems to be jealous because in no time l am rushing home to prepare supper.
The family gathers around the fire as they watch me dish out the meat, all eyes on the drumstick. Today is my brother’s birthday so l place the piece in his plate. I see the grin on his face and wink my eye at him.
After an hour, everyone is now full. The pots have been scrubbed and we now dash off to bed, waiting for yet another day tomorrow. I squeeze into our single bed with my two sisters and drift off to dreamland. Life in Zimbabwe, a hustle yet a blessing. I love my Zimbabwe.
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