Tsaona (Shona) noun: an accident or a very unfortunate incident.
You have never suffered. You think you have, but in the comfort of your daily allowance from your father and full tank every couple days, you are cushioned. I’m talking about not knowing where your next meal is coming from. Hunger becomes an unwanted companion, always around, only disappearing for a while when a few crumbs make their way into your belly. That’s the ghetto story, the reason behind the birth of katsaona, the original budget care package.
For those who were privileged enough to have a pantry to keep huge piles of food this might feel like fiction to you. After all, you are used to throwing food out when you think it’s about to go ‘bad’. Welcome to the story of how we survive in the South of Samora. Let’s say our pocket reserves have gone further south and we have a found a survival plan.
Corner grocery stalls are scattered all over the high-density suburbs. One’s with small sachets of salt, beans, sugar, mealie meal, macaroni and cooking oil. Tutsaona! The original supper plugs in our hood. Those old ladies with sausages that burst open and spill their contents the moment you place them in oil. That 500g Mariana rice for 50c and the sausage for 50c. With a $1,50 you are able to feed two mouths.
Is that life though? The life of not knowing the brand that you are consuming. All you need is to know is the fact that its food and it needs to be eaten. Every meal is eaten for basic survival only, no one cares about the taste. I mean, some people eat Sadza with salty water around these parts if they can afford the salt!
We know what nhamo is, it’s offensive when someone who affords to waste $3 on deep fried chicken and fried potatoes tells us that they are suffering. Crossover to our side for a day and experience kalife kututsaona!
