The Editors
Abali babili, na mano yabili.
Where there are two people, there is double wisdom.
Bemba Proverb.
* Image by Matteo Vistocco on Unsplash
Dear Ubwali reader,
This issue came at an especially busy time in my life. On a recent call with my mentor, she asked if I feel like I am moving through my days in different masks, shedding one and wearing the next as needed. I laughed, but it was true. I do occupy many roles, sometimes at the same time. I am working on saying no when I see that I cannot show up the way I’d like to, because some days, the choice seems to be between the impossibility of showing up 100% for each one or not at all for any of them––which I know I don’t want. Ubwali was born out of a responsibility I felt to support the authors we work with the way I wish someone had when I was trying to figure out how to write, but that is not something I can or have ever done alone. If you have been reading the magazine since the beginning, you have probably noticed how each editorial acknowledges the support system that makes it possible for the magazine to keep existing. For this issue, I especially want to thank the editors, who, more than ever, worked independently to deliver it. This is the mask I wore the least, not because my responsibilities have lessened, but because my team is so incredibly passionate and capable. It’s only right that you hear from each editor to witness what I get to every time we produce an issue.
Anna Zgambo (Poetry Editor): I am moved by Mushasho Phiri’s sensitivity in “Tragic World,” a poem that interrogates the empathy we need today. In “Garage,” his humour suggests that poets are mechanics who tinker with our faulty parts. I get the same spark when reading Doreen Mwenda’s “Tears of the Luapula River.” The tenderness of her introspection reminds me that poetry is about speaking to the forgotten self. From the Luapula River to the blue waters of “Kariba,” I dive into the memories of Dailess Moyo, a lyricist of loss. She shows us the pain of losing a home in “A Friend’s Apartment at Marshlands Village” and the glee of gaining a community in “Kabwe.” But losing something can be liberating, as Lakish’a reflects in “I Should Have Left You Sooner.” Liberated, I feel free to imagine other realms in the rhythms of Gideon Lukupwa’s “Ukantemwa.” Heir of Stephen Mpashi and successor of Simon Kapwepwe, Lukupwa turns his Bemba into a bonfire that readers can gather around. “Umusumba wa ku Masamba” is a poem to discuss with others. Another fiery poem to share is the love lyric by Nsatusile B. Mgode. Read “Love ya Cibemba” to someone and feel the warmth of its crackling firewood.
Mali Kambandu (Fiction Editor): This edition challenged me. Privately, I began calling it the ‘weird issue’ because we had a combination of stories that played with reality or painted new worlds - something that is becoming a signature for Ubwali, but this issue was timely for me, and thus the collection left a different impression. It was a departure from the material I was reading at the time, and I loved that our authors were exploring such a range of ideas in their writing. Ideas seared into my mind left me gazing into the trees outside my window, imagining, theorising, reliving the magic from those pages. Anisha Namutowe wrote “Kwacha Nafuti” and created something that was almost tangible in my mind, but is a reality no one wants to experience.
Bwalya S. Kondwani crafted a character to believe in and understand, with lines that brought me so close to him. Lines like: You are not mute because you have nothing to say; you are mute because the world around you has no patience to listen.
It’s an incredible quality for a writer to truly transport a reader to another world and space. In this issue, the writers have done that in a way that makes me sigh with pleasure, like Mbozi Haimbe has done in “Black Water Days,” immersing us in the recollections of Twapenga as she navigates years of incredible pain.
In “Musonda and her Mother,” Gracious Kabungo paints an intricate picture of a simple lifestyle, leaving us with love and devastation that lingers long after the screen powers down. As I said, ideas seared into the mind.
Congratulations to them all, and my wish is that they continue writing in their own magical way.
Namukolo Siyumbwa (Visual Arts Editor): I first came across Mayase Zulu’s work after we met at a workshop a few years ago. Her “Caesarean section” caught my attention with its simple depiction of a major procedure that many deem an easy way out compared to natural birth. As a multimedia artist, she has produced other pieces, such as sculptures and paintings, that also bring several topics to light. “The Copper Princess” is another favorite. Her style is so easy on the eyes, and digestible to the mind.
Fiske Nyirongo (CNF Editor): When I first read “The Visitor” by Jolezya Adeyamo, I recognised a portrayal of the struggles many women navigate across cultures and social contexts. Jolezya captures an experience of psychological distress with remarkable brevity and emotional clarity, making it deeply relatable. Interestingly, Lombe Kabinga’s piece, “The Hills,” enters into an unexpected conversation with Jolezya’s work, despite the fact that the two pieces were accepted during different submission windows. “The Hills” gave me a renewed appreciation for the dedication of those working within Zambia’s public mental health system, while also offering a sobering reflection on its limitations and the realities faced by patients. I value both pieces for the way they invite readers to engage with mental health, a subject that remains heavily stigmatised in many communities, particularly for women. A passage from Lombe’s essay continues to haunt me: Their families didn’t know what to do with them, similar to how people don’t know what to do with shoes that have seen better days but are not quite worn out enough to throw away. Drawing on her own hospitalisation, Lombe captures the isolation and loss of dignity that can accompany mental illness. I hope these pieces speak to something still unspoken for readers, too.
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Many thanks to our entire editorial team, in no particular order: Akal Mohan, whose quiet and insistent attention to detail drives our Interview Section along with other ongoing projects like the Masterclasses, mentorships and our social media presence; Chii Oganihu, whose sharp poetic eye is balanced perfectly with the grace they extend to the authors behind each work they assess; I learn so much from them; and C.I. Atumah, who, like Akal, was a gift delivered to me in the package of ‘student’, but teaches me so much through her enthusiasm and undampened love for storytelling. Thank you, team Ubwali; truly, none of this would be possible without you!
Ubwali is served!
Mubanga
