Red Pepper Dust, If Only For The Taste Of It: Fiction Writing with Nhamo Muchagumisa

Checking endlessly on her WhatsApp account blew red pepper dust into his eyes By Nhamo Muchagumisa The deserted homestead felt more alive at sunset than in the afternoon. A replay of the life Manyadze had lived within the cheerless walls seemed to be going on in there, the intimacy of disembodied spirits in the ruins of wasted time. Yes, Chengetai had crossed the Limpopo and left his children with her parents in the same village. She would rather be alone in a foreign land than in a family house. Or perhaps she was not alone anymore. Someone had assisted her to skip the border, possibly to start a new life with her. Nobody had told him anything to that effect and asking would make him feel worse. Manyadze had created a good reputation for himself and allowed it to swallow him up. It all started when he had earned a building contract in Sabi Drift and the work of his hand had stolen the attention of those who wished to build new houses or to improve old ones. He literally relocated from Mavangwe to Sabi Drift, where he gained contract after contract.

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