A girl called Zimbabwe

The rims of her eyes looked swollen and red, like she had been crying. Her hair was chaotic, like she had just been out on a windy day. The multicoloured dress she wore – black, red, yellow, green, white – was speckled with what looked like soup stains. But beneath her harried exterior, I saw a beauty that overshadowed her evident predicament.

Karanga people under attack – Zodwa Wabantu rescues Masvingo

My lengthy bachelorhood and living in Harare – which is a cultural melting pot – enabled me to date women from different tribes. I can’t say I found Karangas to be better kissers than Ndebeles. With the lights dimmed and Marvin Gaye CD rotating, Karanga, Korekore, Matebele and Zezuru lips possess the same texture and taste.