SWAMPY TALES

   It all happened like a dream.  Fewer people remained in the village because many were in Nkutu, the seasonal farming camps. The rainy-season weather was cold, with sunshine showing up in an on-and-off pattern. Tall, green grass characterized pathways as the smell of ripe mangoes filled the air.   I woke up to the news that Mungwi Boys Secondary School had selected  us,  with two others.  Rasford was beaming with joy when he came to announce the news, braving heavy morning dew. His admission forms were well-tugged in his pocket when he joked that we had all failed for the second time before he patted me on the back and told me to relax and go and collect my acceptance letter. My heart sunk in relief.  Ten others were to attend different secondary schools from Muwele Primary School in 1981. Our long wait for Grade 7 results finally ended around mid-February. I dashed to see the Headteacher in a flash, Mwansa in tow. I  can’t  remember having any breakfast that morning. It was li