At the Mountain of Pleasure in Mount pleasant, Harare, death did not kill.
In some wizard’s den, under the swirling sitz of Bohemian rhapsody, we gather to drink coffee and say the stupidest things faster than the speed of light. Marechera would have loved this chaotic symphony – those lights flashing in his mind would have exploded into a kaleidoscope of colours here! Away from the noise of his typewriter. He would’ve taught us to eat the naughty burger!
As we revel in my soulless rebellion, some lecturers who’ve unlocked the secrets of Marechera’s brilliance join the celebration in my blasted mind. They raise their coffee mugs and toast to his natural talent as a writer, praising his untamed prose that resonates with the soul. I still remember when l stumbled on something that’s Marechera. His books, wild and unapologetic, hold a sacred place in the special collection catalogues at the University of Zimbabwe.
In this disobedient little state of ours, we feel the spirit of Marechera coursing through our veins. We’ve left the normies behind and plugged ourselves into the raw, untamed power of his words. Zimbabweans, let’s dance on the edge of madness, for it is here that true freedom lies. We the mad hoppers, embrace the chaos, the pain, and the hunger for more because that’s where our souls come alive. We’re Bohemian rebels with a cause – to break free from the chains and create our own damn magic! So, raise your mugs high, my fellow dreamers, for we’re the vanguards of infinite possibilities in this land of untamed spirits!
In a dimly lit pub, where the air is thick with the scent of coffee and the clinking of glasses, a group of white girls and suave pickup artists engage in their usual antics. They speak boldly, teasing the boundaries of religion, sex, and politics, thinking they have it all figured out. We call this club the basement club. Marechera would have loved the twerking and crotch rubbing.
But little do they know that tonight is different. Tonight, a mysterious presence looms in the shadows – Marechera’s irreverence, unbound and unapologetic, silently observing their bravado.
As the conversations flow, we catch glimpses of a figure that sets our hearts racing – a whisper among the regulars that she’s a rebel with a pen, unafraid to break societal norms. Dark secrets, veiled by cryptic metaphors, seem to stir in the air as the night progresses.
Suddenly, the atmosphere changes. I am in a world of make-belief. A hush falls over the room, and all eyes turn to a figure that emerges from the shadows. It’s him – Marechera, the enigmatic wordsmith, commanding attention with a gaze that cuts through pretences.
The white girls and pickup artists find themselves captivated by his presence. In his Bohemian rhapsody, he weaves tales that challenge their beliefs and expose the vulnerabilities hidden beneath their cocky facades. He effortlessly dismantles their preconceptions, forcing them to think twice about their shallow convictions.
As the night unfolds, the boundaries of reality blur, and Marechera’s words take on a life of their own. The pub transforms into a den of taboos, where religion, sex, and politics are no longer off-limits but are embraced with audacious fervor.
Amid it all, dark secrets surface, bared through his poetic alchemy. The white girls and pickup artists find themselves shedding layers of inhibition, revealing hidden desires and fears.
Marechera’s infinite Bohemian possibilities unfold before them like lucid dreams and nightmares. It’s an intriguing dance between vulnerability and audacity, a collision of worlds that leaves them spellbound.
In this den of revelations, Marechera’s irreverence became a catalyst for my self-discovery, an invitation to break free from societal constructs. The white girls and pickup artists are no longer just spectators but participants in a journey of introspection, embracing the chaotic beauty of truth and raw expression.
And as the night draws to a close, they are forever changed, their souls touched by the essence of Marechera’s rebellious spirit. The den of taboos remains a place of enigma, where words dance on the edge of darkness and enlightenment – a testament to the power of a mind unafraid to roam free of stimuli.
I’ve invented a whistle. She asks me, ‘what do you want from me?’
It’s obvious that I need her now.
She mutters something like, ‘think twice,’ I am a mother of two and am 47 years.
I make her invite me to the dance floor.
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Sharon Hofisi is an accomplished lawyer and poet enthusiast. His captivating poems have been published in the anthology Hodzeko Yenduri, published by the University of Zimbabwe and Secondary Book Press. They include ‘Chero Ndofa,’ ‘Chindima Chine Muko,’ ‘Bunha Kudya Mutupo,’ and ‘Ndiri Kuuyako.’ Currently residing in Finland, Sharon finds solace in the Finnish tradition of enjoying sauna. In the digital realm, Sharon curates a vibrant and engaged community through his WhatsApp Group called Denyamu Novels. On social media platforms, you can find him as sharonhofii on Facebook and Instagram and as @sharonhofii on Twitter and sharonhofisi on TikTok.