ISSUE #1

25
“You remember the Minister, don’t you?” Mrs Marufu asked.
“Of course I do,” Mufaro lied. “How are you sir?” She stretched her hand to greet him.
His hand felt sweaty.
“You’ve changed from when I last saw you,” the Minister said.
“My girls have grown since you last saw them. Sometimes I can’t recognise them
myself,” Mr Marufu chimed in, his breath a mist of alcohol.
“The Minister was eager to meet you when he arrived,” Mrs Marufu said. Mufaro was
handed a glass of red wine by her mother. “No thank you mama,” she pushed the glass
away. She did not like the taste of alcoholic beverages.
“My dear, we are here to party! Have a glass of wine or two. It won’t kill you.” Mr
Marufu shouted.
Mufaro accepted the glass and took a small sip. Her father was drawing unwanted attention
so she yielded to keep him quiet.
“How has the office been?” Mrs Marufu asked the Minister.
“It has been going well. Though, you know what it's like in an economy like this.
Everything moves slowly. We need more people like your daughter here to rebuild their
country.”
“People my age aren’t interested in coming back to Zimbabwe. They want things to
improve before they can decide if it’s worth moving back,” Mufaro retorted.
“It’s you young people who should be leading the change. You can’t wait for us
vadharas​ to make change for you, can you?” the Minister chuckled.
“That is true. But the problems are too enormous.They can’t be solved in a day,” Mrs
Marufu said. She pretended to wave at a guest in the corner, took hold of her husband’s
shoulder and nudged him in the most obvious way. “I think I see an old friend over there. We
should go and see her. Minister, we will catch up later.”
“That’s okay Mrs Marufu, I’ll be here with this beautiful gift you brought into this
world.”
“You are too kind,” Mrs Marufu laughed.