There are decisions our parents make for us when we are young that only begin to make sense years later.
Others leave you wondering what exactly was going through their minds. For some reason I still cannot fully explain, NaVinch decided that my primary school education would be better served at Kumalo Primary School rather than one of the schools closer to home in New Magwegwe.
Kumalo was not exactly around the corner. Getting there required two bus rides from New Magwegwe.
While some of my agemates simply walked to their neighbourhood schools, I had to master the art of catching buses, watching the time and making sure I did not find myself stranded along the way.
Perhaps NaVinch had a grand plan. Maybe she wanted me to experience a different world, meet different people and see life beyond the boundaries of our kasi. Whatever the reason, attending a school in town came with its own social complications back home.
Back then, we did not have the term amasalad to describe children who attended schools in town and supposedly carried themselves as if they were better than everyone else. But the distinction was there, make no mistake.
You could feel it in the way some of your agemates looked at you when you mentioned where you went to school. Suddenly, you were that child who thought they were special, the one who had supposedly forgotten where they came from. Mention something you had seen or experienced in town, and someone would be quick to remind you that uyazenzisa!
But in the kasi, perception is everything. I quickly realised that I had two options: accept the uyazenzisa label and keep quiet, or find a clever way of turning my supposed privilege into something useful.
I chose the latter. If my agemates thought I was trying to be special because I went to school in town, then I would give them something worth listening to.
I became the unofficial area updater!
While some of my agemates only passed through town during the Zimbabwe International Trade
Fair week, I had a regular view of what was happening in Bulawayo. I could tell them about new developments, places people were talking about and the changes taking shape in the city.
When construction of Bulawayo Centre was under way, I would give a blow-by-blow account as though I had been appointed the project’s official spokesperson. Every visible change was news, and
I made sure my audience in New Magwegwe got the latest update.
Then there was Egodini, always a hive of activity, which provided another talking point. I would share my observations with the seriousness of a young journalist delivering a breaking news bulletin.
My updates were not limited to buildings and construction sites. At some point, I somehow learnt to swim, opening another chapter in my town-school adventures.
Barrow Street swimming pool became part of the experience. I would tell my agemates about our swimming escapades, the fun we had and the things we learnt. For them, it was another glimpse into experiences they might not have had themselves.
And just like that, the boy who was supposedly uyazenzisa had found a way to make his experiences useful to the very people who thought he was showing off.
Looking back, I was not deliberately trying to be better than anyone. I was simply a child experiencing a different side of Bulawayo and bringing those experiences home.
NaVinch may not have known that she was sending a future storyteller on a two-bus journey every school day, but those trips exposed me to more of the city and gave me stories to tell.
Long before I thought about journalism, I was already observing my surroundings, collecting details and returning home with updates.
The difference is that back then, my newsroom was New Magwegwe, my readers were my agemates, and my beat stretched from Bulawayo Centre to Egodini and Barrow Street swimming pool.
The only problem was that my editors were also my friends, and they were not always convinced I was reporting the news. Sometimes, they thought I was simply trying to be clever!
Until next time, keep your kasi close, your memories alive and your stories coming. This is Vinch, signing out from the Kasi Chronicles.
