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We Need New Stories is a series of 9 short new audio stories inspired by oral history interviews of Zimbabwean-born residents living in Nottingham.
Everyone featured in the oral histories were interviewed on camera in October 2022 by young people from the African diaspora. The resulting stories have been dramatised by playwright Zodwa Nyoni and recorded by actors.
You can view the original oral history interviews on each of the episode pages on Fifth Word's Website and in person at Nottingham Local Studies Library. The series also contains a bonus episode featuring an interview between playwright Zodwa Nyoni and director Anastasia Osei-Kuffour about the making of these audio stories.
All episodes are available for free on major listening platforms. Some stories contain sensitive subject matter including references to violence and racism.
This project has been supported by the National Lottery’s Heritage Fund, Nottingham Playhouse and The Space.
Welcome to Fifth Word's.
We Need New Stories.
Episode seven.
Lawrence's and Nyaradzai’s
Story, As Fate Would Have It.
Written by Zodwa
Nyoni and directed by
Anastasia Osei-Kuffour.
This episode contains
references to racism.
Okay.
Uh, testing.
One, two.
Testing, one, two.
All right.
Right then Lawrence and Nyari,
thank you both for agreeing
to take part in this project.
Thank you.
Thank you for having us.
Uh, let's just jump in.
Tell me where were you born?
I was born in
Chitungwiza in 1977.
Me too, at same year,
but in Bulawayo.
Matabeleland.
The land of the Ndebele.
I'm not Ndebele though.
I'm Shona.
Me too.
I grew up in Hillside,
a suburban area.
We had a swimming pool.
Oh, fancy.
Chitungwiza is not the
type of place most people
have swimming pools.
Ah, we didn't always
live in hillside.
Before Independence,
we lived in Luveve.
The townships were where
all the black people
were segregated to.
It is still a
high density area.
All the white people
got to live in the fancy
neighborhoods like Hillside.
And even after independence,
it didn't change the power
structures that played
out in our daily lives.
In what ways were
they still the same?
My high school convent was
still being run by German
nuns, and all the teachers
who taught vernacular
languages were black.
Was this the same
for you, Lawrence?
Yes.
Growing up, I saw
traces of the colonial
area in our church.
Mm-hmm.
Back in the days,
Zimbabwe used to be part
of the Federation of
Rhodesia and Nyasaland.
This included
Zambia and Malawi.
So in our church we
heard Shona and Chichewa.
And what was your
childhood like?
Eventful.
How so?
I have epilepsy.
When the seizures first
started at eight years
old, no one really
knew what was going on.
The doctors tried
everything to figure
out what was causing it.
But with no luck, my parents
turned to witch doctors.
A witch doctor.
Why not stay with
a doctor-doctor?
It was the doctor-doctor
who told them to seek
spiritual help because modern
medicine was failing me.
Um, tell me more
about witch doctors.
Witch doctors, sangomas,
practioners, traditional
healers, whatever you want
to call them, they make
herbal concoctions or throw
bones to receive messages
from the other side.
Bones speak to the dead.
Bones, predict futures.
Bones, cure illnesses.
Mm-hmm.
Bones cast out evil spirits.
Zimbabwean cultures
exist on the border
of different realms.
Causes of things can't
be explained here.
They will be explained
on the other side.
The people who knew me,
my friends and family,
always saw me as Lawrence.
They would take care of me
if I had fits away from home.
Things went the same at high
school, new environment, new
friends, old explanations
being said repeatedly.
I used to worry
that if I had fits.
No one would be
able to help me.
That must have been upsetting.
People feared me.
They thought that if they
touched the foam coming
out of my mouth, they
would catch the epilepsy.
If something was not
understood, it was seen as
strange, but they just needed
a little more education on
the science before jumping
into the demonic explanation.
Mm-hmm.
It's so interesting
to hear how different
cultures understand the
events in their lives.
For you, Nyari, what
was your childhood like?
I mean, we moved back
and forth between Harare
and I wasn't your typical
boy crazy teenager.
Hmm mm-hmm.
My dad worked as a top
executive and at one point
we could afford to send my
older brother and sister
to university in South
Africa, but when it was
my turn, unfortunately
he had lost his job.
How did that change in
economic status affect you?
I wanted the same
opportunities as my siblings.
I wanted to go abroad
for university too,
but we had to move to
Masvingo a smaller city.
Bulawayo is the second
largest city in Zimbabwe.
I had to look at
local universities
to study accounting.
What did you study, Lawrence?
I did math, biology, and
chemistry at a level.
I wanted to be a
pharmacist, but there
was only one university,
Harare Polytechnic,
that took a handful of
students on the course.
As it turned out, I was not
clever enough to get selected.
So what did you do then?
I got onto what was like an
apprenticeship and worked
as a pharmacy technician.
I adjust drugs using the
same math skills that didn't
get me into university.
At 20 years old, I
was making good money.
Mm-hmm.
more than my older brother.
He was annoyed.
I can imagine.
Okay, so we're getting
into your twenties now.
You're either
studying or working.
Nyari, what did you
do after graduation?
My dad did his best to make
sure that I didn't feel
shortchanged when I graduated.
He got me an
interview with an NGO.
The job was mainly,
uh, managing people.
Like Lawrence, I was
in a great position.
I was able to transfer
to Mutare in the
eastern highlands.
My sister lived
there with her son.
Everything was fine until
2002 when the economy crashed.
Inflation went up and my nice
$2,500 a month salary went to
$120, and the situation was so
bad that you had to spend the
money as soon as you got it.
Because that salary could
easily become worthless
by the next week.
Is that when you decided
to move to England?
I'd never planned on leaving
Zimbabwe, but when my brother
had finished university, he
applied to work in the uk.
He was settled and he was
the one who planted the idea.
Did you think you'd end
up in the uk, Lawrence?
I was comfortable, but
if I did go anywhere, I
dreamed it would be America.
You know, how TV and pop
culture crawls inside of you
and makes you think that maybe
one day you'll be in New York,
standing in front of Times
Square, eating Chicago Pizza.
The fantasy became a reality
I’d have to confront when
everyone else started leaving.
Uh, who was the
first to leave?
My brother went to
Australia at first and
then ended up in England.
He couldn't stand
the racism there.
Then some friends left too,
and my girlfriend at the
time left without telling me.
A lot of people did that
just left in silence.
I was alone in the end.
Was it like there was a drain
sucking out all the people?
When Zimbabwe was hit
with the sanctions, the
country was going broke.
The government made
the country that way.
people had no
choice but to leave
Nyari.
What was the process of
leaving like for you?
The UK started limiting
visas when the sanctions hit.
The embassy would only
offer appointments to 200
people a day, and that
didn't mean 200 people were
getting granted either.
The first time me and
my sister went to qa,
we got there at 6:00 AM
We were already late.
Can you imagine ? The line
was around the building.
People started hiring
others to stand in line
for them at 2:00 AM.
That's ingenious.
Ah, you have to
be resourceful.
In Zimbabwe, I paid someone
to wait in line for me too.
If it wasn't for that person,
I wouldn't have finally
gotten my appointment.
Soon after my
visa was granted.
Back then, applying for
visas wasn't difficult.
Mm-hmm, all you
needed was money.
Now you have a lot of people
claiming asylum and the
process is very difficult.
I think a lot of people have
assumptions that getting your
residency in this country
is very easy, but as we
see and heard in countless
stories, that is not the case.
What were your
expectations of England?
Lawrence, you go first.
Orange juice.
Orange juice.
Listen, uh, all I ever
remember seeing on TV was
choice, choices of food, of
drinks, of tv channels, of
internet providers of cars.
When things were
hard in Zimbabwe, you
didn't get choices.
My mind was blown when
I arrived and my brother
took me to McDonalds.
The menu was so long and
the exchange rate so great,
so I thought I could work,
indulge in my choices and
still be able to take care
of my family back home.
Ah, I just wanted to be
with my brother, but this
country is a grind culture.
He had to work away from
home on the week that I
arrived, I had to stay
with my aunt in London.
So I did what any foreigner
would do in a new place,
became a tourist . I got
on the tube in the wrong
direction at first, uh, but
eventually found my way.
I hit all the hotspots in
central London, Big Ben
Buckingham Palace, the
guards with the big tall
hats, the red buses.
I took pictures of everything.
By the fourth day, my aunt was
sitting me down and telling
me that I needed to get a job.
I was given a bus pass
and the yellow pages
told to find a job.
Anyway, I eventually
found one in Berkshire.
My first job interview was
with a Zimbabwean woman who it
turned out was the mother of
a boy I'd gone to school with.
Ah, a lot of new arrivals
end up in care jobs.
They also share stories of
British clients being racist
and vile towards them.
Ah, yeah.
I had that too when
I worked in care.
Was that your first job?
No, my first job was
working on the tills at, uh,
university Cafe in London.
I had no idea what I
was doing, but I lied
and said I did because
I needed the money.
Luckily, I didn't have
to do it for long.
My brother was ready to
receive me in Nottingham.
His two bedroom council
house with exposed
floorboards became home.
Ah.
Caring was one of
the jobs I did.
I also tried administration.
I didn't like that.
Mm-hmm.
there's this pressure
to perform and if you're
not this machine, you're
excluded from the culture.
I work in civil service.
I like people.
I might want to be a project
manager at some point.
I like doing
creative things too.
My granddad was a tailor.
Yeah.
So was my father.
He sparked my creativity.
I bought myself a soaring
machine for my birthday.
Yeah.
Which she is yet
to start using.
I will.
Ah, after I'm done executively
producing your films.
Me and Lawrence also have
that in common, filmmaking.
I guess we share a
general love of the arts.
I, I did a college course in
filmmaking, but now I mostly
do it in my spare time.
I like that we can
do that together.
uh, let's get onto that.
Since you are jumping
ahead of my question.
How did you meet?
Get more of her love
stories, feelings.
2017, I had a solicitor
helping me sort
out my immigration.
He shows me a picture of
a woman and says, what
did you think of her?
Oh, Cilla Black
would be proud.
Who is she?
Oh, uh, she used to
host a show called Blind
Dates in the nineties.
Oh, oh, right.
Anyway.
I thought she was beautiful.
Still is.
He gives me a number
and told me to call her.
I took a number, all
excited, but when I
called, she was like.
Here we go.
Here we go.
Call me later.
I'm dancing.
I was, I was like, she's rude.
So I didn't go back.
Your friend had to
check you for that?
Yes, he did, and
I'm glad he did.
I, I still have a photo
from the day we met.
You do?
Of course I do.
I'm the one who usually
keeps the sentimental things.
I'm sentimental too baby.
I'm remembering coming
up to, to Nottingham, um,
like it was yesterday.
She showed me around the city.
Miss Korea restaurant,
the arrow, the oldest
pub, Highfields Park.
We had a really good day.
Uh, it just felt natural
being around him.
He felt like home.
I didn't want him to leave.
We went out a few more
times and then I asked
him to move to Nottingham.
Which I did in 2018.
When it's right,
why waste time?
Start forever after now?
because you'll never know
what life can bring to
cut your happiness short.
Your illness reminded
you of how fragile
life can be, right?
Hmm hmm.
You were sick.
May I ask what happened?
This was before I met
him, but before I came to
England, uh, around 2003,
I had a thyroid problem.
My surgery was done in
Zim, but not properly
as it turned out.
My GP in England told me that
I had dangerously low calcium
levels, like this call came
when me and my sister were
just perusing around Primark.
He called in a panic
and told me to get
to the city hospital.
He was so confused about how
I'd been living like this.
I was on a drip for a week.
I really am glad that I
was able to get the help
I needed from the nhs.
Then if I'd stayed in
Zim, I don't know what
would've happened to me.
Yeah.
And at, at the time when
things are happening,
you don't always
know what the why is.
But fate has a plan.
All roads have led us to
our life in Nottingham.
I'm still exploring the city.
I have a British passport
now, so we can also
explore abroad too.
uh, was your
citizenship easy to get?
God, no.
No.
uh, what happened?
It used to be that you
could change a visitor visa
into a student visa, but
in the summer of 2003, the
government changed the rules.
I'd made my application
before the changes.
The home office didn't care.
From 2009, I was in a legal
battle for my residency.
I watched friends surpass
me, they'd graduate, get
jobs and raise families
whilst I was stuck in limbo.
I had to find non-traditional
methods of completing my
masters all the while working
and not breaking any laws.
It took seven years to
get to my citizenship.
The ceremony was
kind of a non-event.
I was neither extremely
happy, nor said it was the
end of a long, hard process.
It's ridiculous how the
government can just change
the laws randomly and not care
about the catastrophic effect
it has on people's lives.
Ah, it doesn't just
affect you emotionally
and psychologically, but
it is a very expensive
process to go through.
It costs 2,404 pounds for
each person applying for
indefinite leave to remain.
it's another 1,330 pounds for
citizenship, not including
any solicitor's fees,
biometric appointments or
fines if you miss anything.
These are the subjects that
I like making films about.
Mm-hmm.
Looking into people's lives.
I, I made a film about
postnatal depression
and my epilepsy.
Hmm.
We did one about the
Black Lives Matter and
murder of George Floyd.
You can find it on YouTube.
It's like therapy for
things we have been through.
I get to express myself.
I get to create a
record of life with the
person I love the most.
So what would you say
to your younger selves
or Zimbabweans after 20
plus years in England?
I would say seize
every opportunity.
Don't listen to anyone that
puts doubt in your mind.
Try and go for what you
want in terms of jobs.
There is so much more
out there than care work.
Learn to change your mind.
Experience, choice.
Get to explore elsewhere.
Sometimes you can get
trapped into thinking where
you are is the best thing.
your only contribution to
a country can't just be
that you were born there.
Move.
My outlook of life changed
when I left Zimbabwe.
Do you get what I mean?
I understand.
Yeah.
Okay, good.
I, I'm, I'm sorry.
I, I speak too much . One
of my weaknesses is that
I, I want to be understood,
so it makes me talk a lot.
It's, it's a weakness.
I know.
No, not at all.
Thank you.
It's been great
hearing your stories.
Yeah, thank you.
Thank you,
Thank you for listening.
If you enjoyed this episode,
please share with others.
All episodes in this series
are available on major
listening platforms and
on Fifth Word's website.
The next episode in this
series is Magline's Story.
A second class citizen.