Review from World Literature Today, 79:1
Jan-April 2005

Reviewer: James Gibbs

When Chenjerai Hove’s first collection of poetry appeared in 1982, newly independent Zimbabwe was deeply wounded and buoyantly optimistic. In the troubled intervening years, Hove has published novels, short stories, essays, and poems in which he has found an individual voice. Now he is simultaneously a central figure in Zimbabwean letters and a wanderer: he has been a writer-in-residence at the University of Zimbabwe and, at the time of the preparation of Blind Moon, was living in France.

Hove believes in the power of words and explains his faith by reference to his Shona background. In the justification for poetry that prefaces his 2005 collection of nearly fifty poems, he writes:

‘The world is the leaf that is floating in the wind next to me. The task of the poet is to tell the story of how that leaf is floating in the sky with his or her heart also.’ In his poem entitled ‘Hope’, the poet, who confesses to boyhood drams of flight, thinks of a leaf ‘floating, floating, floating / in the wind / not falling’. Just why the leaf defies gravity is not explained, but it may be held up by the poet’s conviction, his heart. However, in all this somewhat etiolated talk, Hove does not close his eyes to facts. This is illustrated by ‘Search’, where he writes bleakly: ‘After the search / there is nothing / except the coffin / and a dying homestead’.

From the lines quoted, Hove’s concern with the power of words, acquaintance with suffering, and his interest in nature imagery are apparent, as is his somewhat affected suspicion of capital letters. One may also detect elements of song and become aware of fiercely controlled and spare diction.

Hove’s sojourn in Europe has produced distinctive tensions. He is living among those who, he maintains, are blind to outrages and put procedures before action. In this situation, the poet becomes inquisitor and demands: ‘What were you doing / when civil war reigns / when spears are sharpened / when guns run the household / in the hands of the rulers?’ Hove clearly remains passionate, and, on occasion, the passion is fused with the controlled, assured, prophetic voice of the poet. Near the end of the collection, it is a poet-prophet who points to the ‘footpath of illegitimacy’ where the tread is ‘to the tune / of praise singers / flatterers / charlatans’.

The high production values of the best Zimbabwean publishers are clearly evident in this attractive volume. This volume demonstrates that brave Zimbabwean writers are finding defiant support at home in their wars of words and ideas, their tussles with praise-singers, flatterers, charlatans, and gun-wielding dictators who leave homesteads dying.