Used to be
The growl of my anger
Was always louder than
the growl of my stomach
But not today
He looks at me in fear and wonder
This stranger at the terminus, must be thinking,
why is she so angry 
is she that hungry? 
My stomach was shaming me.

I smile in apology
I'm just tired, I suppose
But I'm truly just hungry, I know
Used to be
A working woman could eat
Used to be
A working woman could sustain herself
Used to be
A working woman never got into stupid fights with strangers
Just for the reason they were eating and she hadn't in almost a whole day
Used to be
Usisi osebenzayo (a working woman)
Would better spend her daydreams on futures of success instead of a good meal
Okay 'a good meal' was too much dreaming
"Maybe just some bread"
All that was gone now
What used to be had changed.

What is, is her hunger equaling to her anger.
It’s the scraping at her stomach
Leaving a hot and acid pain in her tummy
Making her wish she didn't have a bloody stomach
The uncontainable panicked confusion of her mind
As her brain tries to reason out why the body is going for so long, unfed
The rising rage of emotion as she tries to convince herself to be at peace with the lack in her stomach
The hot anger that arises when she thinks how 
It used to be at such moments she would go buy a scone
Oh wait, all that used to be, is gone.
We are talking about now.

Now,
Going home
She remembers
The day she spent trying to not look at others eat
And anticipates
The night she'll spend
Try to find sleep
After a supper that's
Too ugly, too small, too unsatisfying
To wash from memory the past day's hunger
Tomorrow she wouldn't go to work
How could she manage to
So hungry
I mean working all day without sustenance
But not going would mean being fired
Sitting at home to starve
To watch children turn from thin and scrawny to just ribs and bone
One works, one can't eat,
Nor can her family, her kids,
Used to be
She could feed them just cause she worked
All that's gone now

Click on the file below to listen to Zolisa reading her poem:

Zolisa Gumede is a Zimbabwean poet and story writer from the city of Bulawayo. She is driven by a passion for giving life to stories that speak for the lives of everyday heroes, the marginalized and all human beings, for we all need a witness to our lives. She loves a good laugh and a good story.
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​Taku famously known as VaChikepe is one of the best writing poets from Zimbabwe. A two-time featured poet at the Bridgewater International Poetry Festival, he believes that poetry is a calling and he uses different states of mind, music and spirituality to define and express poetry.
 

Throbbing Belly

​When I was six,
I appreciated everything they did
Honestly... I appreciated!
 
It was probably by design, or
It was probably by default...
But I appreciated everything...
They did...Honestly!
 
Now my belly throbs like a growling bear
I honestly enjoy every moment of being,
Rebellious...Divided we’ll learn how to stand!
 
Meditating on the last night
I made my jaws dance,
I become as angry as a fasting lion in the jungle.
 
But a few years ago, I appreciated everything
Honestly...I appreciated everything they did!
 
They could tell me Jesus represented
A certain race,
Like what!? Isn’t that racism? But my belly was full
So I understood where they came from
But now my belly sings the songs of
Kunta Kinte heading to the west,
I comdemn everything they do!
 
Cutting nails with my teeth isn’t a hobby
But a poor man’s way of feeding...
Call it what you want, cannibalism or
Something but a man’s got to survive!
They call it, “desperate times vis-à-vis
Desperate measures”... Who’s got the ruler,
To measure the intensity of the desperation?
 
I appreciated everything they did
Honestly...I appreciated!
But my token dropped into the manhole
And I no longer appreciate!
 
I’m starving but...
It started as a means of staying healthy
Until my health began falling into the same pit
That dinosaurs fell and became extinct...
I’m hungry...Like I could join the Lord
In his forty days, forty nights fasting
And still find no food to break the fasting!
 
What option do I’ve, besides listening to Lucifer
When he tells me to turn the rock into bread?
A no! Is the perfect answer but my belly is empty
A yes! Is selling my soul, but my belly is empty!
 
I got food on my mind and how
I’m going to get it
Doesn’t matter, as long as I’m not hungry...
They said, “be careful what you wish for...”
What? I wish for food in my mouth
And how I get it is my business
And none of your business!
 
I used to appreciate everything they do
Honestly...I appreciated!
But I don’t anymore because I’m hungry
And hunger will kill me if I appreciate them.
 
Playing hunger games and I’m losing,
Only if I can get her to dig my ways.
I’m hungry to know her...But
How do I get to know her when I haven’t met her
And how can I meet her when I don’t know her?
Like fifty shades of grey are my hopes
And fifty shades of black are my chances...
So it seems like, I’ll always stay hungry.
 
I appreciated everything they did
Honestly...I appreciated!
But a hungry man is what I became
From appreciating their prodigality,
So please pass me a plastic plate,
With fruits, even the forbidden
Is now unforbidden because I’m hungry.

​Martin Chivaku, his birth and stage name, believes that poetry is a means of communicating with the world and as a poet, he considers himself a messenger or a tool to address issues that affect us on a daily basis. He has also written more than 250 poems and is still not stopping. He lives in Harare, Zimbabwe.