Zimbabwe

Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight: An African Childhood

In Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight, Alexandra Fuller remembers her African childhood with candor and sensitivity. Though it is a diary of an unruly life in an often inhospitable place, it is suffused with Fuller’s endearing ability to find laughter, even when there is little to celebrate. Fuller’s debut is unsentimental and unflinching but always captivating. In wry and sometimes hilarious prose, she stares down disaster and looks back with rage and love at the life of an extraordinary family in an extraordinary time.

In Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight, Alexandra Fuller remembers her African childhood with visceral authenticity. Though it is a diary of an unruly life in an often inhospitable place, it is suffused with Fuller's endearing ability to find laughter, even when there is little to celebrate. Fuller's debut is unsentimental and unflinching but always captivating. In wry and sometimes hilarious prose, she stares down disaster and looks back with rage and love at the life of an extraordinary family in an extraordinary time.

From 1972 to 1990, Alexandra Fuller -- known to friends and family as Bobo -- grew up on several farms in southern and central Africa. Her father joined up on the side of the white government in the Rhodesian civil war, and was often away fighting against the powerful black guerilla factions. Her mother, in turn, flung herself at their African life and its rugged farm work with the same passion and maniacal energy she brought to everything else. Though she loved her children, she was no hand-holder and had little tolerance for neediness. She nurtured her daughters in other ways: She taught them, by example, to be resilient and self-sufficient, to have strong wills and strong opinions, and to embrace life wholeheartedly, despite and because of difficult circumstances. And she instilled in Bobo, particularly, a love of reading and of storytelling that proved to be her salvation.

A worthy heir to Isak Dinesen and Beryl Markham, Alexandra Fuller writes poignantly about a girl becoming a woman and a writer against a backdrop of unrest, not just in her country but in her home. But Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight is more than a survivor's story. It is the story of one woman's unbreakable bond with a continent and the people who inhabit it, a portrait lovingly realized and deeply felt.

"This searing memoir of a white family clinging to lives in Africa as Rhodesia became Zimbabwe lays out, without moralizing or sentimentality, the way in which turmoil and injustice in society distort the lives of families and individuals."
   MARY CATHERINE BATESON, AUTHOR OF COMPOSING A LIFE AND FULL CIRCLES, OVERLAPPING LIVES

"Nobody has ever written a book about growing up white in rural Africa the way Alexandra Fuller has. Her voice is mordant, her ear uncanny. Her unsentimentality is a pleasant shock. Her sense of humor is extremely sly. Without a trace of pretension, she quietly performs what is really a major literary feat-nailing both the poetry and the myopia of a child's experience in a brawling, bad-luck family on the losing side of an anti-colonial war."
   WILLIAM FINNEGAN, AUTHOR OF CROSSING THE LINE: A YEAR IN THE LAND OF APARTHEID AND COLD NEW WORLD: GROWING UP IN HARDER COUNTRY

When a Crocodile Eats the Sun: A Memoir of Africa

After his father's heart attack in 1984, Peter Godwin began a series of pilgrimages back to Zimbabwe, the land of his birth, from Manhattan, where he now lives. On these frequent visits to check on his elderly parents, he bore witness to Zimbabwe's dramatic spiral downwards into the
jaws of violent chaos, presided over by an increasingly enraged dictator. And yet long after their comfortable lifestyle had been shattered and millions were fleeing, his parents refuse to leave, steadfast in their allegiance to the failed state that has been their adopted home for 50 years.
Then Godwin discovered a shocking family secret that helped explain their loyalty. Africa was his father's sanctuary from another identity, another world.
WHEN A CROCODILE EATS THE SUN is a stirring memoir of the disintegration of a family set against the collapse of a country. But it is also a vivid portrait of the profound strength of the human spirit and the enduring power of love.

Mugabe: Power, Plunder, and the Struggle for Zimbabwe's Future

House of Stone: The True Story of a Family Divided in War-Torn Zimbabwe

Rainbow's End: A Memoir of Childhood, War and an African Farm

This is a story about a paradise lost. . . . About an African dream that began with a murder . . .

In 1978, in the final, bloodiest phase of the Rhodesian civil war, eleven-year-old Lauren St John moves with her family to Rainbow's End, a wild, beautiful farm and game reserve set on the banks of a slowflowing river. The house has been the scene of a horrific attack by guerrillas, and when Lauren's family settles there, a chain of events is set in motion that will change her life irrevocably.

Rainbow's End captures the overwhelming beauty and extraordinary danger of life in the African bush. Lauren's childhood reads like a girl's own adventure story. At the height of the war, Lauren rides through the wilderness on her horse, Morning Star, encountering lions, crocodiles, snakes, vicious ostriches, and mad cows. Many of the animals are pets, including Miss Piggy and Bacon and an elegant giraffe named Jenny. The constant threat of ruthless guerrillas prowling the land underscores everything, making each day more dangerous, vivid, and prized than the last.

After Independence, Lauren comes to the bitter realization that she'd been on the wrong side of the civil war. While she and her family believed that they were fighting for democracy over Communism, others saw the war as black against white. And when Robert Mugabe comes into power, he oversees the torture and persecution of thousands of members of an opposing tribe and goes on to become one of Africa's legendary dictators. The ending of this beautiful memoir is a fist to the stomach as Lauren realizes that she can be British or American, but she cannot be African. She can love it -- be willing to die for it -- but she cannot claim Africa because she is white.

Where We Have Hope: A Memoir of Zimbabwe

Scribbling the Cat: Travels with an African Soldier

Thomas Wolfe's trusted axiom about not being able to go home again gets a compelling spin through the African veldt in Alexandra Fuller's Scribbling the Cat: Travels with an African Soldier. Fuller (Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight : An African Childhood) journeys through modern Zambia, to battlefields in Zimbabwe and Mozambique with the scarred veteran of the Rhodesian Wars she identifies only as "K." Intrigued by the mysterious neighbor of her parent's Zambian fish farm and further enticed by her father's warning that "curiosity scribbled the cat" ("scribbling" is Afrikaans slang for "killing"), Fuller embarks on a journey that covers as much cratered psychic landscape as it does African bush country. Though she and "K" are both African by family roots rather than blood, she quickly discovers that 30 years of civil war have scarred them--and the indigenous peoples they encounter--in markedly different ways. "K" is a figure of monumental tragedy, a decent man torn by war-fueled rage, a failed marriage, and painful memories of an only son lost to tropical disease. His adopted Christianity offers him only partial absolution, and Fuller details his gut-wrenching confessions of quarter-century old atrocities with compassion and rare insight. Her prose liberally salted with a rich, melange of Afrikaans and local Shona slang, Fuller nonetheless struggles with a narrative whose turns are often unexpected, yet driven by humanity. There's a clear sense that the author's fitful journey into the past with "K" has opened as many wounds as it has healed, and spawned more questions than it has answered. It's that discomfort and frustration that often reinforces the honesty of her prose--and reinforces Thomas Wolfe's adage yet again. --Jerry McCulley

With the same disarmingly unguarded prose that won her critical acclaim for Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight, Alexandra Fuller tells of her unusual friendship with “K”—a white African and veteran of the brutal, racially divided Rhodesian War. An engrossing and haunting tale of love, godliness, hate, war, and survival, Scribbling the Cat recounts the journey she makes with K into the lands that hold the scars of their war, from Zambia through Zimbabwe (formerly Rhodesia) and into Mozambique. Driven by memories, they venture deeper into the countries’ remote bush, where they encounter other veterans and survivors and confront the demons of K’s past: a violent war marked by racial strife, jungle battles, torture, and the murdering of innocent civilians.

James and the Duck: Tales of the Rhodesian Bush War (1964 - 1980)

A very different tongue-in-cheek personal account about a forgotten war. Between 1964 and 1980 Rhodesian men from all walks of life left their families and jobs to fight for their country. They were farmers, bankers, railwaymen, shopkeepers, miners and even Members of Parliament, who every six weeks, changed their soft civilian life for battle dress, rifles and grenades. These are their stories. It's not really about war heroes. It's more about bluestone charged, but still lustful troops coping with fighting terrorists, boredom, longing, fear and death. All this set against the background of Africa's sweltering heat, annoying insects, dangerous animals and venomous snakes. Definitely not for the faint-hearted. The reader will meet a long suffering prisoner-of-war, infantry soldiers, helicopter gunship pilots, tribesmen, pompous army officers, mercenaries and even a duck. Some of the personal incidents will have you laughing and crying at the same time. No matter how you view the Rhodesian Bush War, you will enjoy the humour and at times satire and even sadness of this true account of how men coped with the horrors and hardships of war.

Rhodesians Never Die (State and Democracy Series)

This book tells the story of how White Rhodesians, three-quarters of whom were ill- prepared for revolutionary change, reacted to the "terrorist" war and the onset of black rule in the 1970s. It shows how internal divisions--both old and new--undermined the supposed unity of White Rhodesia, how most Rhodesians begrudgingly accepted the inevitability of black majority rule without adjusting to its implications, and how the self- appointed defenders of Western civilization sometimes adopted uncivilized methods of protecting the "Rhodesian way of life." This is a lively and accessible account, based on careful archival research and numerous personal interviews. It sets out to tell the story from the inside and to incorporate the diverse dimensions of the Rhodesian experience. The authors suggest that the Rhodesians were more differentiated than has often been assumed and that perhaps their greatest fault was an almost infinite capacity for self- delusion.

Mukiwa: A White Boy in Africa

Peter Godwin grew up in Rhodesia during the end of white rule. While his Rhodesians Never Die is a historical account of that time, Mukiwa is a more personal narrative--a testament to Africa and a memoir as seen through the eyes of a child becoming a young man amidst civil war. Spanning 1964-1982, from when Godwin was a boy of six in Rhodesia to when he returned to Zimbabwe as a journalist covering the bloody transition back to black rule, Godwin personalizes a difficult era in South African history with clarity, intelligence, humor, empathy, and sharp prose.

Mukiwa begins in the magnificent mountains of eastern Rhodesia in the 1960s. In the eyes of young Peter Godwin, the land is an endless source of wonder and adventure: of leopard hunting, witch doctors, lepers, and snakes. Then one day he stumbles upon the body of his neighbor, killed by African guerrillas, and this perception is changed forever. Its an unforgettable tale of innocence lost under African skies as we follow Godwin's awakening to the often savage struggle between whites and blacks, his horror when he is forced to fight in a civil war he detests, and his experiences as a journalist covering the country's violent transition to black rule as Rhodesia's colonial era comes to an end and the new state of Zimbabwe is born from its bloody ashes.