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ISSUE #1

MOSI OA TUNYA LITERARY REVIEW The first multi-lingual, pan-African, online literary magazine from Zimbabwe

MOSI OA TUNYA LITERARY REVIEW
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23

Mufaro ate one of the deviled eggs, chewing it slowly, trying to taste each spice that

was in the filling.

“Don’t you want a drink?” Mrs Marufu asked.

“No. I will get one later.”

“You will choke on that. You should have a drink. All of this was paid for. All of it!” Mr

Marufu announced boastfully. He was often mocked for being “new money,” but it was a

disgrace that he learned to live with.

To stop her parents from nagging her, she ordered a lemon and lime mocktail. Mrs

Marufu suggested that they interact with the other guests. Mufaro was not in the mood to

play host. She had to be back in the office early the next morning if she wanted to finish her

work. The room was filled with people who had frequented her house for years. She did not

know where to start, so she went to one corner of the room sipping her mocktail slowly.

Mufaro should have been used to these kinds of events, her home was always the centre of

parties and functions for her parents’ business. She and her sister Ndapiwa were expected

to put on nice dresses and play the part of well groomed ladies.

She saw someone approaching her. She recognised his face but his name took a bit

of time to register in her mind. It was Fadzai, an old acquaintance of hers from her teenage

years.

“Mufaro Marufu! What a surprise to see you here!” Fadzai exclaimed. He was a tall

scrawny person, wearing a black suit and a black turtleneck jersey that made him look even

skinnier.

“I’m surprised to see you too. How are you?”

“I’m doing okay. You look very different.”

“Different how?” Mufaro asked.

“I don’t know. You look older, I suppose.”

You look older too Fadzai. So, tell me, how was your time in America?”

“It went well, I suppose,” he sipped from a glass of champagne. “But I couldn’t stand

it there. You can barely find any intellectuals there, so I decided to come back and you know

‘​help rebuild our country.’​” Fadzai had gone to the United States to study criminal law. His

American accent was forced which irritated Mufaro.

“What about you? What happened to you after high school?”

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