COMING SOON

The book, Distorted View is going to be published this year.

The book is full of intrigue and is made up of twenty-one chapters, each with its own title. It is about 400 pages.

Each chapter has an interesting theme and hence, beneath that theme lies the story line. You won’t see chapter one and so on and so forth, but rather catchy themes like-‘green eyes’ , ‘I will survive’, ‘office play’, just to list a few.

The story is entangled and it takes us from one nice place to another. The characters tell the story and hence we move with them so to speak. It is written in excellent English. It is full of drama and would make an excellent motion picture too.

It is based on real life set-up, although it is classified as fiction. It is your good and neighbourly gentleman, not so honourable after all.

The woman who will stay because she can’t admit that it won’t work or that she made a mistake and or the wife that believes she has a perfect man.

So, Distorted View uncovers the person beneath the outer ego and so we are not writing from the ego point of view, but the characters take us into their space of ‘vulnerability’ or from honour to a vulnerable space to honour again?

Which is what makes the story real!

Everything is folded inside and then it unfolds hence the title ‘Distorted View’. It also boards a bit on the history side as it gives a brief description of certain lines of thinking that existed a few years ago around the globe and compares and contrasts the same as the characters look at life through their own lenses in the moment (now) so to speak.

 

Extract from Distorted View Page 300 & something copyright 2015 Constance Mutale

Wafner was in the queue buying groceries when she got the call. What was going on? What was Vil being arrested for? She left the trolley in the queue and rushed out of the shop. She tried his number but it was off. She hurried to the parking lot and entered her vehicle and then she drove to the house in a panic state but there was no one, when she got there. The house was open but deserted. His car was in the carport. He was not lying, she realised as she saw the outdoor tools he’d been working with, sprawl on the nearby lawn. She locked the house and phoned a lawyer that Vil had been dealing with over the past few months, whilst he was prospecting to buy a new business.

“My husband has been arrested.” She said after a quick greeting.

“What for?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Is it a criminal matter?”

“Yes,” She paused for a moment. “I think so.”

“Ms. Dfny, you just caught me at the airport. Am going away for my festive holidays, with my family.  As you can see, its Christmas eve...”

“Yes.” She cut in and that was the reason she too was doing her last minute shopping.

“Call my friend on this number. He deals with criminal matters.”

He said calling out the number.

She quickly wrote it down in her dairy and then Wafner called it out to him again.

“Yes, it is correct.” She heard him speak.

She thanked him and then she put the phone down. She was not going to let down her husband, as she frantically dialled the number she had just written down, but it was off.

“Nooooo...” She yelled whilst sobbing. “Nooooo…” and going on her knees as she did so feeling nauseated. “Nooooo….”

Catch your breath, she spoke to herself whilst on her knees with her forearms on the ground too. They can’t just arrest your husband for nothing; he must have done something wrong. After a few minutes she got up from the floor and unlocked the house, she entered the house and ran to the bedroom. She washed her hot face, watching as the water rolled down her face and then she pulled a facecloth and wiped the water off. She took a deep breath and dialled the number again. This time there was a response.

“Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon, sir. I just got your number from the attorney, Mr. Voose, a few minutes ago. He is going away on holiday. He said I could speak with you.” She spoke hurriedly, trying to get to the point.

“Yes? And who are you?”

“I am Ms. Dfny. Wafner Dfny.”

“Okay, Ms. Dfny, I am just on my way to a Christmas office function at one of our big clients. I’m coming from court, do you mind calling me later?”

“No. I mean yes…” She spoke hysterically.  She could not afford to let her husband down, and he was counting on her. “I am sorry, my husband has been arrested.”

“When? How did that happen?” He paused for a moment. “Who is your husband?”

“They picked him up from home. I was not here.”

 “What is the charge? A traffic fine? Unpaid traffic fine?”

“Who is your husband?” She heard him ask again.

“Vil. Vil Dfny. He is a client of Mr.Voose.” She paused for a moment. “No. I think it is more serious.”

“What is it?”

{line with held...holding you in suspense:-)}

He was quiet for a moment; any other woman would be happy, that her cheating husband would rot in jail, whilst she perhaps takes over the reins and lives happily on his hard work for some time.

“Give me the details, case number…?”

“I don’t know it.” She heard him speaking from his moving motor vehicle.

“My I kindly ask you to just go and find out what is going on? Once you have all the details, even if it is midnight, you have my word, I’ll take your call. Like I said am driving to a function right now as we speak.”

“Okay. Thank you.” She responded ending the call and grabbing her car keys. She rushed out through the door. She had invited her cousin to come over for Christmas lunch she recalled whilst hurrying to the carport. The lunch, tomorrow, she recalled. It was already late afternoon. What was she going to do?

She got into the car and started the engine with only one thought; to get to the local police station.

                                   

Extract from Distorted View- copyright 2015

{Extract from Distorted View- copyright 2015 Constance Mutale page 169-173}

It was Valentine’s Day and she wondered what Ishimana had planned for the day? She on the other hand had got what she wanted from her husband.

Basil was reminiscing. He recalled a call he had received a day after the interview in the Boardroom. He picked up the phone and a song played in his ears.

‘His eye’s on the sparrow and I know he watches over me.’

“Who is this? Hello?” He’d tried to say before the line got cut.

‘Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come? When Jesus is my portion

Is constant love is here. I sing because I am happy, I sing because I am free, his eyes is on the sparrow I know he watched over me…’

He now lay back in his bed as he remembered the melody and wondered if it had any meaning for him anymore.

Ishimana had received a lot of messages for valentines on the other hand, not that she was interested. She still needed a little bit more time to herself. She turned down all the possible dates. She needed to re-set her goals. The greatest joy was realising that her family had never gotten wind of her involvement with Basil or Dr. James as he was known by most. It was a miscalculated affair, which she had never flaunted to them. Perhaps somehow at the back of her mind, she’d known that he was not the one.

It was a good feeling to put Valentine’s Day behind as life returned back to normal the next day. Flowers had been sent across the world, chocolates and wine had moved from shelf, to till, to stomach. Romantic dinner arrangements had been made and fulfilled and finally the love in the air had died down.

Ishimana opened her email and right before her eyes was a message from Dr. James, Basil. He broke the silence that had been created for weeks.

He addressed her formally, requesting to settle some bills for the cultural ceremony her ‘uncle’ Dika had spoken about. He went on to state how shocking her ‘emotional message’ to him had been a couple of weeks ago.

She tried to read between the lines, what would be shocking about a message? Messages were exchanged in the weeks that followed discussing her culture and if he indeed needed to dispatch anything, money for the bills and the like. Ishimana finally requested for peace of mind.

“You should have thought of my peace of mind first.” He responded angrily.

It was most obvious that he felt life revolved around him as he faithfully stated when he was dating her.

“Oh life is paradise for me. Everything is just in my favour.” He’d flaunted.

Ishimana wondered how his life could be a paradise when in actual fact he lived away from his family and land. What paradise? Was it because he travelled the worlds that he felt the world belonged to him?

‘If you were winter I would love to be summer then we would blend as the seasons of the world.’

‘If you were Christmas I would love to be New Year, they are both times to celebrate.’

‘If you were a pair of shoes, I’d love to be the feet that wore them’

‘If you were a gift I’d love to be the hands that un wrapped it.’

‘If you were a smile, I’d love to be the face that wore it.

‘If it were possible I’d love to be your conscience and guide you through life…”

“Lovely, that is beautiful.” Spoke Lavema Ishimana’s friend.

“You haven’t been great company lately. Anything you want to talk about?” She continued after a short pause as they walked out of the theatre.

“No. No.” She replied with a thin smile. The less people knew about her hiccup the better.

“I see.” She replied as the begun to window shop.

“I wish it was Christmas again. I am looking forward to a lovely holiday.”

“Hey girlfriend, Christmas just ended.” She replied with a laugh.

“Well, I wish it could be Christmas again. I wish I could sit with friends and family and unwrap our gifts as we normally do. Wearing a smile and really meaning it.” She replied with a modest look on her face. “But I have a lot of work to do. Promoting the software program and there is this hurdle, the more I move away from it the closer it moves to me.”

“Heartbreak?” Lavema tried again.

“No. No.” She replied with a laugh. “Am above that, what do you take me for?”

She laughed with her.

“I have to go. I have to go home and see my man.” Lavema spoke after a moment, looking at her watch. “I am sure he is waiting. We can go to the theatre again. I enjoyed being with you.”

“Bye.” She said facing her. My man she thought in the blink of a moment. That good for nothing who lets you wear the pants of the house while you work the whole year as he claims there are no jobs?

 “Take care.” Lavema spoke as they hugged.

“Will do, thank you.” She replied focusing her attention on the future. The past is a lesson, nothing to dwell on, the present is a live broadcast and every second counts. There are no rehearsals just live casts as they say.

Feeling generous on a black Fridaywithout still giving the story away…’Extract from Give love a chance in pursuit of justice’ copyright 2015 Constance Mutale-

Within minutes, she was there, he got into the car and they drove off.

He was doing it again. She thought as they drove, holding back tears. He was hurting her again. She drove quietly. She did not know what to say to him anymore. Perhaps she should first speak to a counsellor before knowing what to say to her child. She got to the house and got him settled. These were uncertain days and she tried to apologize to her husband, over and over again at her just bring the child back without notifying him first.

“You should not have gotten involved in this whole set up again. How is he going to support any of his children now?” Ponk asked.

“I have no idea.” She replied wanting to seem cheerful; “and now I have to work even harder to support an extra child. He just throws all responsibility back at me.”

“Yeah, I really don’t understand the man you once married.”

“I call him a ‘mistake’. He was a mistake. How can he do that to his own child and tell him ‘from today onwards am not your daddy. Don’t call me dad, call me uncle’?’’ She went on in her feminine voice; “I mean we all feel overwhelmed with parenting, but how can a parent do that to his own child? Some things had better be left unsaid.”

“He said that?” Ponk asked with a thin smile.

“Yes. My child has just told me so. He was asking him to pack and go for some time now. Alaka...told me...”

“You see that is where your problem begins…” He pointed out whilst lying under the bed covers with the newspaper by his side.

Halgfna was restless and just pacing up and down in the bedroom, having apologized to her husband for some times. She could not afford to have another failed relationship. Ponk Base was a good man. She was never, ever going to allow things to get out of hand with him. She needed him for stability and for proving a point that she had not been a bad wife, that she could have made it the first time if only Vecos had been more of a better husband. This had to work, not matter how many curve balls came her way. Somehow, she had to ensure that through all the chaos she looked beautiful and smiled for her husband. She could not afford to wear a frown, no matter how bad her day was. Hers’ was to put on a happy face and be Ms fix it all. Everything is okay, I have it under control. Don’t worry am on top of it.

It was only when he was at work that she took stock of how much a toll everything was on her. It was only then that she would cry if she felt overwhelmed. Her marriage, first! She could not imagine another broken relationship and her failing to provide stability to her children. This was stable, Ponk had brought stability in her life that could have been nothing but full of pandemonium from day to day, year after year. He was the one stable and reliable person in her life and Vesco was not going to pull that carpet of stability from under her feet. It was not love she was after but stability and she had it. She put her fingers in her hair and scratched her scalp.

“What do you mean?”

“He sent your child because you and Alaka are in touch, he doesn’t want you quizzing your child anymore and filtering the information to her. I warned you to cut ties with her.”

“I am trying to. But maybe he did this so that she could move back in with him.” She cut in a bit upset.

“I think he had strong feeling for her.” Ponk added. “He feels he let her down because of you. Because of people and what they would say and so he is trying to not support you and her at the same time. You know she knows him too well…”

“Yeah, I was married to him longer but she knows him more than I do.”

He smiled. “Come over here.” He said as she had stopped in her tracks to look at him. He watched her walk over to the bed to sit next to him. “Just take a deep breath, your child can live with us. I don’t have a problem with that, we are a family. That’s what families are for. Let us give him time to settle down and set the rules straight with him.”

He touched her hand she his as their eyes met, their souls collided.

“I don’t know where I’d be without you. You are really a man of great wisdom.” And for a moment she wished that Vecos was the man lying in the bed and speaking to her with such tenderness. Suck kindness and such love. She did not have to be the pillar of strength or the man of the house. Ponk was there, he was the man of the house. She later reassured herself, having failed to be intimate with him now that her son was back in the house. She had to let him settle in before she could consider being intimate with her husband. She kissed him on the lips and went down stairs to her office.

She later picked up the phone and spoke to Alaka, about Vecos’s decision to have his son move out of his house. They both agreed he was in a bad space and was clearly dealing with a lot of demons.

Halgfna suspected something. Alaka still went to the house, she still could take Vecos back and Vecos still seemed interested in her. What if all this was actuated by Alaka so that Vecos could get rid of her child and they could live happily together? She smiled to herself in a conniving manner. Had she been used so that the mixed race couple could live with no worries on their heads? Worry of other people’s reactions maybe?

Page 133 to 135 currently copyright 2015 Constance Mutale 

Courtesy of Africa Independent Magazine CC

Extract from Give love a chance-in pursuit of justice copyright Constance Mutale 2015 page 122 &124

I recall how one judged me, as being too ‘self-loving’…but hey wait that is how one would perceive their lot. I was not self-loving per-say, but assertive and calling it as it was. I stood tall to tall with them; my own clique hated me for that; because they had decided in the majority to take the subordinate role. I was having none of that; we had something in common and so let’s do it.

I found myself laughing and joking with the opposite race as I would on a neutral ground, I found it a neutral ground.

I knew Halgfna was suspicious of who I was and where I got such guts which she decided to call strength, perhaps I had been indoctrinated from a young age that ‘for we are all made in the imagine and likeness of God.’, He made all and not just some, as He made some white coloured cows, he made some colourful, some brown and some black and white. Breeding, am not a farmer, and all I know is that each farmer is proud of its herd.

I was not trying to have the best of both worlds, I was trying to make the best of my life and exploring what was nice and befitting to me.

My love, we clicked, we loved, we were similar, I was perhaps stronger than he was, he too was stronger perhaps than I was. We laughed, we shared, we loved, we trusted, we were united and it was the outside world that saw a wrong; that saw me as an outsider and how my knowledge of them would perhaps weaken them, he was a traitor perhaps and he would come out as having acted at a moment of weakness. He could have gone on deceiving them that he was one of them, when in fact he too like my friend, saw beauty, comfort and was at home with ‘black’.

Without sounding racist, for me, I was lamenting our love,

‘Romeo; Romeo why must I die?’

It was a clear manifestation of Romeo and Juliet only in this case the characters were white and black, were by Romeos and Juliet’s case it was a case of the family feud between the ‘Montagues’ and the ‘Capulets’ that dated many years back. Was he going to ‘die’ for this special thing that we had that I called love? Was I going to die for this thing that I felt so passionately about?

If he rediscovers his identity would I be left to a lonely feeling and wondering?

Where art my Romeo, where art though?!

‘I love you.’ I said openly, I did not need to seek his approval as like a fool I had fallen heads over heels, with his maturity, his venerability, and his openness.

‘I love you.’ I whispered in the dark of night. He knew that that was my weakness and he was not going to put his heart on the line, he was in love but he would guard what he did with this love. His love would hurt and disappoint other people. He would be judged as weak, to be in love with a race that they had looked down upon. How did it work? Just how did it work? Was love just love, just love all the way?” She put the pen down and took a bite on the croissant and took a sip from her cup of café latté.

*        *        *

Most people were involved in debate in their schools, and one of the topics that were debated would be ‘what is better a boarding school or a day school’. Opposing sides had to give their view on the theme. Perhaps if White and Black had been a problem they would have debated it. But what was better indeed, they all were schools with an objective of educating the learner and hoping to empower them to earn a living thereafter, so it was with race, the body being an object that contained life, so what was better one life in a particular skin colour as opposed to the same life in a different colour as white sugar is to brown? Since people shared birth dates across the race, hundred babies across the world would be born at the exact same time, second and date and year, so what would be the difference between those lives?

Give love a chance-in pursuit of justice: extract copyright 2015 Constance Mutael

She shook free of the memory as she saw two men standing in front of the door that was slightly ajar. She got up. Perhaps they were looking for her master, who at the moment was on the run as the police had been looking for him night and day, even discovering the place he had fled to.

She had just finished one of the two thick slices of bread and drank half a cup of tea.

“Yes.” She said getting up from the chair and walking the short distance to the door.

“Hello. Malwe, is it?”

“Yes.”

“You are Malwe.”

“Yes.”

“Can you open the door for us please?”

“I can’t just open the door for you, who are you and what do you want?” She asked a bit shaky in her bulky appearance, wearing her working uniform with a cloth that she had tied over her head.

“I am a warrant officer Lakau and am on official police business, you need to come to the station with us to answer a few questions.”

“Me, no. I can’t come to the station, am working.” She replied as fear engulfed her whilst she fiddled with the door.

“We too are working.”

She reluctantly opened the door. She had to talk her away out of this one. She was going to charm them.

“Can I offer you some tea?”

“No actually we are in a hurry. We just need to leave you at the station and answer to other duties.” He paused for a moment, “If you are ready we are ready.”

“No, let me switch off the washing machine, and close the windows.”

“Make it snappy mama.”

“Yes,” She replied running through the house she was so familiar with. She put on some shoes and a jersey.

“Should I call my master?” She was an elderly woman, much order than her master, what was she thinking, the officers wondered.

“That is up to you.”

“Okay,” She replied in panic as her mouth became dry dialing his number in the process.

“Oh my master doesn’t pick up the phone most of the time.” She continued as she locked the door.

Somehow she could not remember much anymore as she walked to the police car. She entered the car as the other worker’s in the neighbourhood watched in dismay. By now his master should have gotten rid of that woman, it was almost three weeks since the attack. She got into the car as the police officer’s spoke between themselves. She got out of the car at the station after what seemed like a long drive. She phoned her daughter and asked her to continue trying her master’s number.

“We are going to detain you. You are under arrest.” She heard them read her, her rights, as they took her finger prints and afterwards they ushered her to the holding cells. Her master would know about it once he returns from work. The innocent eyes of the on-looker’s were going to inform him of how much trouble the fully build woman is now in as they had also seen the victim on the day of the attack.

{currently page 71-73 of the book-copyright Constance Mutale}

Give Love a Chance in pursuit of justice

Don’t miss out on this book- Give love  chance-in pursuit of justice. I am currently reviewing Chapter three of the book. I am working on the characters by making them more fabulous and so living momentarily in their world. Enjoying their dialogue, as we cut and paste, edit and add more life bringing to reality what could have been passive.

Working on the not so dominant characters now. As one may tend to neglect them in a sense, by forgetting to add for instance their taste or temperament. This indeed is a book to look out for. It is alive and ‘wild’.

I like the character Halgfna, although at the moment she seems to be feeling sorry for herself despite doing well in other spheres of life, in fact the other female character in this chapter is also feeling sorry for herself out of predicament.

Don’t we too struggle with choices we make at times? To discipline our children or not and or to face the consequences of the guilty thereafter, but if we do it in love which we have to and are obligated to do…anyway that is just an example!

She who lived in the moment is now being haunted by the success that comes out of her failed relationship. She goes back and forth in her mind. Oscillating, reminiscing and taking the thorns of pain and fear from her heart so to speak. But who is the real victim?

I guess you will never know unless you read the book from start to finish…

I have what I call a trophy episode in this book which makes sense to what has been debated in life for like forever…we are talking of why certain churches do not allow remarrying- this part of the book will only be shared once the book is on the shelf…for now I too can’t wait to read what is contained in the rest of the book. On a scale of one to ten I give it fifteen…it is such a wide open book I see myself giving public talk about it…but first let us finish the ground work…If you have the opportunity of reading ‘Ferocious Love’ and a glimpse into ‘Distorted View’ you may have picked up that the character tend to be very feral for lack of a better word, this is no exception….Walla (voila)