Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes

A story, my story, about what happened in Harare, what really went down (and up?) in that simmering city swelling with buoyant expectations, surges of life, radiant promises of love, gloomy fear of death and the unknown, the rush of adrenaline, the cunning underworld, hearty laughter that pours milkshakes into the streets, blistering generator-powered lights at nights, the heart-touching warmth of strangers in the streets; a city that has room in its pockets for even the social pariahs. This is a story about what happened in that metropolis when the biting cold of an impending winter was a harsh reminder that one was in new territories – a land not quite fully known or comprehended, yet. The Sunshine City, a conurbation where the Dollar is stretched to maximum tension; where streets bubble with activities – promises of a good day or a better tomorrow; this place where load-shedding creates out of the city a deep darkness (within which unseen light glows steadily) and a severe coldness that warms things up in an awkward, inexplicable way. Where the sun – and the moon later on – spill tears down at children clawing at closed windows of cars waiting at red robots. Right there in H Town where the very sun can turn its tears into blissful songs of delight, whenever it so wishes. A lovable place. A place to hate. Sometimes. Maybe never. This is a short tale about life, a story of love, yet not a love story. It’s a story about what happened in this city, Harare, where, in the midst of everything that makes this place what it is; there is a Shona girl who has diamonds on the soles of her shoes. Yes, diamonds imbedded in the soles of her shoes.