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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 Two, Ken's Story,
the Karate Master's Son
has big dreams written by
Zodwa Nyoni and directed
by Anastasia Osei-Kuffour.
Hi.
Just give me a second.
Your order will be
ready in a second.
Take a seat.
Would you like some Rooibos or
biltong while you're waiting?
Yeah.
Yeah.
Help yourself.
It's on the house
for the delay.
Oh, you like them?
Yeah.
People always comment on
the figurines and pictures.
I am Zimbabwean, so we
always have the big five
lion: elephant, buffalo,
leopard, and rhino represented
some way in our houses.
This restaurant is practically
my second room now.
The woman in the picture,
that's my mother.
Ah, she was something special.
This restaurant is
dedicated to her.
You see, my mother was a
black belt in karate, like
Bruce's straight blasts.
She could knock out my
nightmares for tormenting me.
Her kicks sent seismic
ripples across the city.
She was the most feared
fighter in all of Simba.
No men or super villain
would ever think to cross a
black woman who could save
the day, play a keyboard,
play a guitar, sing in
the choir, touch a piece
of fabric and then zap!
Couture in African print.
She could do all this
and have time to get back
home to conjure fists from
seeds and drops of water
for the entire community.
You'd think she was a
marvel ahead of her time
or a magical creature.
But we were both born
in a town known for
myths and legends.
Extraordinary was just
so ordinary to us.
I promise you, this
is not hyperbole.
My life was set
up like a movie.
My origin story begins
in a town called Karoi.
It is known for conjuring
folk, tales of witches
and wizards being thrown
into the Angwa River.
Spirits rose to seek vengeance
on those who cast them away.
It was said that the
giant serpent Nyami
Nyami swam in Kariba Dam.
It fed on disobedient
children who stayed
up past their bedtime.
The stories never scared me.
I wanted to have my own
Indiana Jones Adventures.
I thought I could handle
anything until I was a
hormonal teenager trying
to be James Bond suave
in front of a girl at
Mandevu’s Drive-In cinema.
Then I wished I was
built tough, like Rambo
or the Terminator.
There are movie references
for every phase of my life.
Just before my 21st birthday,
I was told I would be moving
to join my aunt in England.
I thought to myself, Ken,
we are shifting genres here.
The action- fantasy days
of your life are about to
become fish out of water.
I had done small local
flights, but this journey
was like traveling through Dr
Strange’s Inter-Dimensional
Portal, the sticky heat
morphed into the Siberia code.
Maybe that is an exaggeration,
but for an African boy, this
was an out body experience.
London was fast and
chanting zigazig-ah!.
The Spice Girls mania
spun me around and around.
I didn't even have time to
feel the cold for too long.
I popped on my headphones,
shuffled my newly bought
HMV CDs and rode the
tube in all directions.
My aunt was my Yoda, my Mr.
Miyagi who imparted wisdom.
She said the best way to get
to know the place and its
people was to be of service
at their most vulnerable.
She placed nursing
books in my hands.
I never became
a Nurse Ratchet.
More like a Greg Focker who
had to keep reminding people
that nursing is not just
a profession for women.
When a new job came
up, I hit the road up
the M1 one and moved to
Nottingham with my family
to work at City Hospital.
Not everyone gets to see
humanity on the brink of
life, I cared for critical
trauma patients who'd
come in on stretchers.
I'd pray that they'd
walk out with extra
lives like Catwoman.
There have been plenty
of moments where
make-believe and reality
have bled into one for me.
You know that bit in
the movie when the main
character is feeling a
great transformation come.
After six years, I
felt mine coming.
I realized that every person
I had cared for, no matter if
they were Italian, Zimbabwean,
Pakistani, or Scottish,
they had become a part of
my story and I, theirs.
I was no longer a
fish out of water.
I was home.
We were a community.
We were all Nottingham.
God, this is turning soppy.
Welcome to the next chapter
of my story, the Motivational
and Life-Changing Genre.
In my transition, I reminded
myself that I am the son
of the multi-talented
karate black belt.
She taught me everything
is possible and I am
forever expanding.
I pondered on how
healing is more than
fixing cuts and bruises.
Food is medicine.
Food is art, food
is connection.
I wanted to feed my people.
I opened Braai flavors.
Mm-hmm.
The epitome of my
Zim-Nottingham identity, as
you saw at the front, is a
little supermarket selling
Southern African foods.
If you miss back home and
you need mazoe, chakalaka,
biltong, maputi, Romany
Creams, I've got you.
If you are new to
Zimbabwe cuisine and you
are just hungry, I mean
really, really hangry.
Just come up to this
counter and you'll
find me in the kitchen.
grilling finger licking sumu
chicken, flavour punching
boerewors and mouthwatering
Zambezi ranch T-steak.
Aye!
Don’t play with me!
Call me Chef Julia Childs,
call me Chef Auguste.
And don't think I only
do for the meat eaters.
My veggie braai will
leave you unbuttoning your
clothes for your satisfied
stomachs to stretch.
Sometimes I think if
Hollywood were to make a
movie about my life, it
would be Coach Carter-esque.
A good looking black man
with wisdom stuffed in his
pockets and the contagious
laugh comes to a new
place to heal and inspire.
Braai Flavors has
an outreach arm.
It trains young chefs.
I keep them grilling.
Instead of being on the
street with idle minds
getting in trouble, I
ask them who they are and
what they want to be, just
like my mother did for me.
And I saw her ask of herself.
She never let her environment
limited her possibility.
She listened to her creative
heart and raised a boy
whose big dreams were never
made for the small screen.
To my son, I am the nurse,
turned chef, turned mentor.
He's taken the creativity
in our blood life.
He draws and paints.
I wonder how my life's
journey to Nottingham will
inspire his origin story.
Sorry, I've talked
to your ear off.
Would you like a
drink with your order?
No.
No.
Thank you.
Please come again.
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 Thulani's Story.
The Quiet One left
in the Loudest Way.