Straying out of hostile enclosures
Straying out of enclosures may not be the solution, because claustrophobia is both physical and emotional, thus it requires collective effort and willpower for it to be mitigated.
“A dog is a dog. The average African dog is less than that. The average African dog is a creature to be kicked, scolded and have missiles thrown at it - an inconvenient extra mouth that threatens precarious supplies in seasons of drought, or on rare munificent occasions such as Christmas will efficiently devour the moulds of leftovers . . . a companion, tolerated, but kept hygienically at a distance,” writes Shimmer Chinodya’s in the short story “Strays” in “Can We Talk and Other Stories” (1998).
Although a dog is still a dog, there are different types of dogs, depending on background, family raised in and the environment.
There is Kutu, the nameless African dog, whose existence is premised on suffering, neglect and boredom.
The European dog, on the other hand, is not “just the dog or that dog. It is a member of the family, with a personality, name, a kennel, a veterinary aid card and, of course, a budget. It usually has a family tree, probably a place in its master’s (or mistress’) will and is guaranteed funeral arrangements.”
The third type of dog is the “suburban African dog in an aspiring middle class household”, which is “something between the two. While it probably benefits from the example of its white neighbours, it remains a household appendage.”
So dogs are dogs, really? So many dogs, from different backgrounds, with different tastes and egos; yet dogs are said to be dogs.
Come to think of it, I have often heard that men are mangy dogs. It boggles the mind, but could there be a link? There are also said to be different types of drunks, and it is said that “a drunk is a drunk. There are many types of drunks, probably over a dozen species.”
Drinking to escape; from who? For what purpose? To what end?
Men, drunks and dogs! Could we really be talking of the same thing? Maybe!
Shimmer Chinodya’s “Can We Talk” explores such issues that we may take for granted, but have a bearing on familial, communal and national relations. From childhood, through adolescence, to adulthood, there is a lot that is said, or not said rather, which aggravates the claustrophobia of the family unit, starting from the matrimonial base.
Originally published by Baobab Books, the anthology was relaunched on May 30, 2017 at Alliance Francaise under the wing of Weaver Press.
The event was graced by artistes from across the board and coincided with Chinodya’s 60th birthday. It was pomp and fanfare as delegates were serenaded along memory lane through dramatic and musical performances from the birthday boy’s stories.
Hope Masike, Virginia Phiri, Chirikure Chirikure, Farai Mupfunya and Elizabeth Muchemwa were some of the artistes among friends, relatives and colleagues, who took their time to be at the celebratory occasion.
Reading “Can We Talk and Other Stories” evokes mixed feelings on the essence of life itself, its purpose; especially when it is read on the backdrop of skyrocketing divorce rates, crossgenerational sex and the rise of Pentecostalism.
A disciple of the autobiographical mode, Chinodya invites the reader into his own experiences as a boy growing up in the dusty Hoffman Street of Gweru, through humiliation, hurt and struggle until he makes his mark on society; the same society that seems not to appreciate him.
Central to the anthology is the power of communication. The characters in the stories are worried by the imaginary ghosts that stalk them; the invisible demons that give them no peace of mind, yet there is no one to talk to. No listening ear and no soothing voice to spur one out of his/her cocoon.
“Strays” purveys the analogy between humanity and dogs, through the protagonist Sam and Sango his dog.
Notable is the significance of the two companions’ backgrounds. Sam, a “hard Mashona” type, is catapulted from the other side of the river through his profession - architecture.
As a hard worker he finds himself working alongside whites in a newly independent Zimbabwe. With hopes ever so high, the hero acquires a beautiful house in one of the leafy suburbs of the city.
However, it remains the issue of taking Sam out of the ghetto, with the ghetto remaining stuck in him, much to the chagrin of his wife Ndai.
Sango, on the other hand, comes from a “European” background, as he is bought from a white woman. He refuses to eat, takes a “sour, forlorn look” and decides not to be “touched or approached”.
Two companions from different backgrounds, with different values joined by fate. Two males - a dog and a man; with the same needs and aspirations, but unable to understand each other. Always fighting, hurting each other; venting anger on each other.
Sam begins to feel the inadequacy and restrictive nature of his matrimonial house, his marriage. Like the narrator in “The Waterfall”, who is “afraid to go home” and the hero in “Can We Talk”, he is alienated from himself and his family. He seeks companionship, yet he is blinded by the mist in his own eyes.
Companionship should start from one’s abode, from one’s family, neighbours and community. Ndai tells him that Sango needs a mate, that he should take him on walks; and that he should learn to talk to his neighbours.
He is so “Africanised” that he cannot openly show affection to his wife, his daughter Nyasha and Sango. He feels that he is insulated from love, feeling and passion.
Chinodya adeptly highlights the running battles and scapegoating that come as a result of lack of communication. As Sango escapes from the imprisonment of his existence through the holes he creates under the fence, and later using the gate each time an opportunity avails itself, to be with his friends next-door -a male and a bitch; Sam finds the elixir in drinking places in the high-density suburbs as he yearns for the nostalgic feeling of “Hoffman Street”.
Interestingly, but sad in a way, the two companions, devoid of affection, make a pact not to restrict each other.
“It was almost as if he found his own sense of alienation mirrored in the dog’s behaviour. Now when he found the dog outside the gate he quietly let him in. They understood each other, as if they were allies at some sport or as if they understood each other’s constraints.”
Sam and Ndai’s marriage suffers as a result of communication breakdown. The more Sam goes out the more he meets misfortunes; the more Sango escapes the more he brings misfortune on himself and his owners and the more cracks widen on the matrimonial base.
As the stories follow a chronological sequence from “Hoffman Street” to “Can We Talk”, the characters can be read as the same ones, passing through different stages of their toils where talk of certain issues is taboo.
The narrators in “Hoffman Street” and “The Man Who Hanged Himself”, can be read as one, because they are linked to an intolerant society that blocks children out each time they try to get inroads into the societal landscape. Because of insecurity and fear they escape though bedwetting and reverie.
As they grow up they get used to a one-size-fits-all approach to life. They want so much to be heard, but no one pays attention to their inner turmoil.