The Poetry of TENDAI MWANAKA

We are proud to published the poetry of TENDAI MWANAKA 

BIO:

Tendai. R. Mwanaka is a multi-disciplinary artist from Chitungwiza,
Zimbabwe. His oeuvre of works touches on non-fictions, essays, poetry,
plays, fictions, music, sound art, photography, drawings, paintings,
video, collage, mixed media, inter-genres, inter-disciplines etc.
Voices from Exile, a poetry collection came out from Lapwing
Publications, Northern Ireland, 2010, Keys in the River, a novel of
interlinked short fictions came out from Savant Books and
Publications, 2012, Zimbabwe: The Blame Game, a book of creative non
fictions on Zimbabwe came out from Langaa RPCIG, 2013. Forthcoming
books in 2015  include A Dark Energy (full length novel)  from Aignos
Publishing Inc, Zimbabwe :The Urgency Of Now, FINDING A WAY HOME, Revolution all by Langaa RPCIG, THE GRAPH OF LOVE by Pen Featherz Media. Work has been published in over 300 journals, anthologies and magazines in over 27 countries. Nominated, shortlisted and won some prizes and work has been translated into French and Spanish.

The first station of the cross, “Jesus is condemned to death”. My father keeps telling me he will kill me, even for small things like changing the channel of the TV

1.

 

This poem is for those who violate the conventions of human dignity

This poem is for those who violate the conventions of human freedom

This poem is for those who have cut budgets, closed schools

This poem is for Jonah who can’t read and write

This poem is for Mathew who is deaf

This poem is for Maria who is blind

They taunted, tormented and teased them

It is a hate crime, the beast that never perished

It re-arranged into these cruel children’s hearts

This poem is for children living in child labor camps

Farm boys, hands throbbing from the suns

Working the fields, with no school to go.

Because they are poor, because they are young

Brushing out the lamp of hope in their hearts.

This poem is for children who don’t have food, shelter and hope

The weeping child, anguished cries that makes no sound at all

It is for children who know the deep throbbing vacancy of hunger

For food, home, love, space, light and stars that remember.

2.

The second station of the cross, “Jesus bears his cross”. I feel a heavy weight pressing me down….my father’s presence alone in the house is a heavy cross for me.

At 10 days of age, I was shocked by the gunshots of my parents’ voices, shooting at each other

At 10 weeks of age, Calvin was fed with Sadza and Mutowejongwe, cock’s soup

At 10 months of age, Mary was raped by her father to gain good luck

At 10 years of age, Jane was raped for the third time by our Maths teacher

Is God such a violent man?

3.

The third station of the cross, “Jesus falls for the first time”. When my father beats me I fall to the ground. He uses his whip until the blood flows.

Since age 11, Jane was refused schooling more than 11 times. Since age 11, Mary was used as a call girl more than 11 times. Since age 11, Jane was given in marriages, treated for sexually transmitted diseases. Since age 11, I was beaten more than 11 times. Since age 11, Mary was jailed in a juvenile facility. Since age 11, Jane was abducted, sold off to Angolan free labour workplaces. Since age 11, Mary was sold off to South African brothels. At age sixteen they were used up. They were just nothing, but a shell. They were released. They found their way home. They are now commercial sex workers. They are fallen angels, fallen down… Down…down, on their crosses.

4.

The fourth station of the cross, “Jesus meets his mother”. Once father beat my mother when she tried to refrain him from beating me, and now, she only watches- afraid of my father, or she doesn’t love me anymore. Cruelty is like a flu bug, it is easily passed around

This poems is for the pregnant girl with nowhere to go

This poem is for the boy in a cruel gang, learning the cruel nature of the world

This poem is for the child trying to make do in life

This poem is for the student called “stupid’ who struggles in school

I see every day the increase of young beggars

I see every day the increase of illiterate children

I see every day the increase of unemployable young people

This poem is to kindle a flame of compassion