Is it really the end?

I've tried to articulate a more detailed emotion, but when I finished the book, I simply felt so sad.

In my opinion, Dangarembga ended this part of Tambu's journey appropriately, to correct us "lest we thought we lived in a miracle society." (courtesy of Snehal) She highlights the injustices that affect Tambu so that we may further understand the ones that come into our lives. We limit our own society's progress, and sometimes, there really isn't an answer. Politicians can promise resolve for everything under the sun, but in the end, these issues of race, gender, domestic responsibility, warfare, and education persist. This new Zimbabwe seems to be full of promises, but Tambu's journey seems to illustrate that ideas are nice, but they never last long. "I had forgotten all the promises made to myself and providence while I was young concerning carrying forward with me the good and human, the unhu of my life" (246).

This is kind of a free association, but when I think about this New Zimbabwe and how Tambu must feel, I think of a section of Sao Paulo in Brazil (picture above), where the line between the rich and poor is blurry and practically invisible. Earnest, hard-working people work years of their lives collecting trash on bicycles -- some people say, "Why not try to get a different job?" Tambu's experience is why they don't try to get a different job. Regardless of class level and education, to quote Nyasha - life happens. Even if you are doing the right thing and trying to keep your values in check, the world will sometimes run you over...

Also, how interesting that Tambu's final occupation involves writing. The skill of writing isn't always taken seriously, yet excelling at it can be difficult. Writing is supposedly the one discipline that 'doesn't have a right answer' and is a vehicle for 'self-expression and creativity," but 'writing the book that hasn't been written' is next to impossible. If I sat down to write a book tonight, even if I thought I had the most original awesome idea, chances are, somebody would have already done it. Or if I write it, someone might take my idea. I can see where the hopelessness would set in -- she sought after an education, a chance to be an individual, only to realize that in the end, what you learn and what you teach can never be exclusively yours.