Dear Chakanetsa Godwin Muzari
I could have put an address on this letter if I knew where you are right now, and it has taken me months to gather the strength to write it since your demise in September last year.
There are times that I call Trust Khosa or Silence Charumbira just to talk about you and it is my hope that with this letter I will finally let go.
I struggled to find the strength to write, but three important dates came to pass. These dates reminded me that you are not around anymore.
First it was your little daughter Mazvita’s third birthday on September 29, your supposed 40th birthday on December 20 and then my wedding anniversary on December 31. These dates were especially important in our lives and we would celebrate. All these three came to pass without your text message, Mhofu.
So sad. Last time I was in Zimbabwe, I spent two days at your place with your family. There were other people we could have visited, but we decided to spend two days at your place. That is how important you were to us.
Maybe you are in a better place, so I am not going to judge you. Am I angry with you? Yes! Did you think of your three small kids who are now left without a dad? Did you think of the burden you were leaving on your poor wife, Talent?
I remember you as a very secretive person. you could draw a curtain on what you wanted to discuss with friends about your personal life. That is something that would take you aback no matter how happy you would have been. The fear of how many people know that secret haunted you and you would want to know the source of the story. In that vein, you despised gossip. You just wanted to be happy.
However, one thing that you openly admitted is struggling to cope with the death of your parents within a space of a year. We all know that other than your wife, it was only your mum who could rein you in.
I remember you as a person who looked after his friends while expecting nothing in return. I remember how you planned my wedding with Elizabeth. I was panicking, but you kept your cool. In the end, the wedding was a success with your wife Talent being the maid of honour. You, Trust Khosa, Liberty Chirove and Elder Tavonga “Cee Cee” Mafundikwa made it to Murombedzi on time in Trust’s vehicle.
It was you who taught me and Trust how to wrap a present for a woman. When it came to girlfriends, it was you whom we looked up to for advice“Boys, present ye mu si kan a ha in go put irwi kungenyama.”
This other time I had a date in town, but we were coming from Macheso’s show in Epworth. You advised me against going because I was visibly drunk. I insisted on going.
We got home, you asked me to go to Mereki Shopping centre to top up our beers. When I came back, all the clothes were wet! You and Trust started laughing. You said; “Tigarire unwe doro apo. Uri kuda kuzotinyaudza usiki paphone warambwa.”
Many people remember you as an arts journalist. However, those close to you know that you were an artiste in your own right. I remember you teaching Trust and I how to play mbira when we shared that apartment in Warren Park D. I have always wondered where you learnt to play that instrument only to be told by your childhood friend Cleopas Chaka that you were taught by your uncle.
Chaka also told me of how you got a ticket to accompany the school football team to zonal competitions after springing from the terraces and started imitating Charles Mabika during the team’s training sessions.
Of the three of us, you seemed the most stable and we looked up to you all the time when we were in trouble. I remember sometime in 2006 at the Chitungwiza Aquatic Complex where we were attending a musical show.
Trust stepped on broken bottle which left him with a huge wound in his foot. You took a mop and wiped the area and suggested that we carry him to the bus stop since we had to go home. Trust was struggling to walk. Unfortunately, Trust being Trust, he disappeared. We got home around 10am and he was not there. We did not know what to do. I remember how relieved you were when Trust walked in three hours later.
However, there were times that you put us in trouble. Do you remember that day you were caught two-timing your girlfriend and you introduced her as my girlfriend? At first the lady bought it and it worked for us for a few weeks. The girl came to see you and when you saw her, you just said: “Albert, your girlfriend is around. K wan ayaukuz va uri we u no si yamukadzi ac hip ind am uma dhaka .”
I walked hand in hand with her and the plan was to take her to Liberty Chirove’s place where I was going to lock the two of you and put a key blocker. This would give the impression that there was no one inside. Moments later, you joined us, and I did as we had planned. I was supposed to come back after half an hour.
Unfortunately, your other girlfriend had been tipped. As I was debating with Trust if it was the right time to go and release you guys, your other girlfriend came after me like a raging bull. She went straight for my back pocket and took the key and headed straight to Liberty’s room. Thank God, we were not in this digital era. There was a fight at Liberty’s place resulting in Liberty’s landlord banning you and I. We used to have a great laugh over this incident.
The other time it was on your birthday. Sadly, that was the last time we celebrated together. It had been a night of binge drinking on the eve of your birthday at a shebeen in Glen Norah. In the morning you called TheStandard Deputy Editor Walter Marwizi telling him that you were coming from a funeral and would be at work around lunch time.
You called me to check on the mood in the newsroom. We agreed that it was not a good idea. I met you at a pub in Harare Street. We bought our beers. You went to the toilet. A few minutes later, Marwizi and then Political Editor, Patrice Makova, walked in. I had two beers in front of me. And they were bound to suspect something.
I remember calling you to tell you to stay in the toilet. They took too long on the counter deciding what to buy. I ended up drinking the two beers. Eventually they bought what they wanted and sat on the other end of the bar. You came out and we left for Jazz 105 to carry on with the birthday celebration. Whether they saw you, I do not know, they never talked about the incident.
A few weeks before your demise, we were talking about going into this business venture. You said we should leave something for our kids. We roped in Chirove because he is good with figures. Nothing came to fruition anyway because of procrastination. We always reminded each other how poor we were with finances. You would remind me of that loan I took from the bank with the intention of investing in a night club in Murehwa only to find a mere $1 500 in the account.
You just laughed at me as I tried to tell you how bank charges had gobbled my money. We all knew what had happened to the money. “Be rt omudhuruun ody a mari ,” you always reminded me with a cheeky smile.
Many remember you as a very jovial fellow. However, we all knew that you were a very shorttempered fellow. There were times that you failed to control your temper and landed into trouble, but like the main actor, you always found your way out.
Till we meet again, AlbertMarufu