MPyour Profile Photo, Image may contain: one or more people  We are very much grateful   for this  encouraging opportunity  to feature one of  the most revered WordSmith to be born in Zimbabwe . Anesu Katerere is  a promising   , rising   literary arts voice  in  this land  of  paradoxical epochs . The flavor of his metaphor , imagery , razor sharp irony  and  his double edged sword of paradox  is heartening and amazing. The sweetness and bitterness in his   both  expression and presentation make him  a promising literary icon, that is if  he maintains the discipline and  the resilience as required  in  this our creative writing feild. The poet never ceases to amaze  ,like royalty  that courses in his Katerere , Hwesa Masango blood– the poet delves into a myriad of thematic areas that include sexism  , politics , culture , humor and pain. His works also  touch his life experiences. Miombo always brings to its readers writings from both young , middle and established writers and poets. The Poet is a force to reckon  in the Zimbabwean underground  poetry activism and  he  has won  a number of slam poetry prizes . Enjoy the mesmerizing verses of Hwesa Masango aka Anesu Katerere- The Guerrilla Poet.

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You use things that once might have been clothes

To chase away the cold

You drink smoke and have been to prison

Thou you are only twelve years old

Taking that car radio

Cause the big boys say to eat you have to be bold

Your poor mother her death your birth

Such suffering she never foretold

Forever being the unscrubbed madman’s shit in a bourgeois toilet that

The world will always scold

Rise up your blunt sword little soldier for your destiny only you can mould


Stride into kitchen

Table so laden with food so much

That I can not see across

Open fridge and throw away heavy liver to good Labrador

Wife enters

Phone sings

A nobody who wants to ask for money

Must take twins to yoga class

Remote open Mahogany

Mind soul search between bmw and convertible

As I reverse into


Fore man’s one ton kick tears me apart from this

He spits and says

‘Hey you son of nobody who do you want to load the

The cement in the the truck for you?

      Dedicated to   Ms Ruby Mataure the mother of Alice; Ruth and the late



I can even imagine the sweet honey tears

That dripped from your eyes

When he burst from your womb

For during those chained it was a marriage breaking

Curse for a woman to produce only female fruit.

It was sad you were destined to love him more

He had his first school lesson wearing oversized Christmas

Present pajamas

For since you stayed at St. David’s he deserted

His morning porridge to force himself into sub A class

Demanding to sit next   to his sister Ruth

I know the anxious nights were fewer when Ruth

Fifteen and feigning innocence disappeared one Sunday church


Farewell letter neatly tucked under pillow

To join the bloodshot unkempt beret and farada wearing boys and girls

In the bush

Ruth a rebel

Afros and shortenened skirts

Always arriving home long after dark

Immune to the strapped tree branches lashes

And knuckle pummelts

But when the anti terrorist special branch unsmiling

Squad knocked again at N3A

Something inside you broke forever

Even up to know as I reconstruct your face

In your mind I see the crack even through your thick reading specs

I understand

For he was only in his first

Year of high school.

It’s sad how many love to clasp earth’s greatest gift of creation

So tenderly to their breast

For the law of the soil is that children come through you

But are not from you.

Moments behind the mind are forever.

It’s been many rain seasons

Since Ruth returned

Clean shaven demob notes neatly tucked in grey

Caudrauy jacket

Holding two chubby baby boys

No more Ruth but now

‘Lee Tichatonga’

It’s been many rain seasons

But I know you still pretend to lock

The kitchen door when you lay down every night

For you hope to be awakened

One night by the noisy cobble of

His clumsy boots marching into the veranda

15children on night market

Razor edged winter cold

Deep in silence

Small hands unclosed

Clasping and unclasping

Well dealt notes

Printed with national face

Eyes tufting here and there

Deep in silence


Another vehicle up in smoke

Blood leaflets and splintered glass

Projections of the future haunted by the past

The speaker.   Fresh From another long detention spell

Calls for silence, lights a Molotov from

His weed stub

Another honourable yawns disinterestedly

And shuffles towards the bar and orders a people subsidized viceroy

Blinding his ears to the soft pitter patter of the birth of

Another toyitoyi fermenting from underneath


Each cow hoof echoes along the well worn


Each clink the entrance into the earth of another blameless

Innocent soul.

Mothers hidden along plasticized fires in deserted

Pole and dagga huts

Shedding dry tears for children who might never tread the path of home again

Old men’s backs broken by bundling donkey loads

From drought relief sorghum brewing livication after livication to the

Of those who instead of bondage chose to create a permanent state of semi

Dedicated from birth on the revolutions shrine to tear down the heavens

Shy bespectacled book dreamers now living in a haze of petrol bombs


Anesu Katerere –Anesu Katerere's Profile Photo, No automatic alt text available. journalist , Slam Poet , published writer and media activist, spearheading the Marovadombo Community Radio and library initiative in Nyanga, Eastern Highlands,


The Publisher MiomboPublishing is founded by Mbizo Chirasha- a Creative Communities Expert, Writer , Published Poet and Literary Arts Specialist.

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