Vakwatu Showtime

30/11/2025

Vakwatu – Supa - Stories

Mainda’s Reckoning – by Bob Bengah

It was a cold Monday morning in 1980, the kind of chill that made the leather seats of a new car feel like a luxury. Shadreck Mutale gripped the steering wheel of his Peugeot 504, a quiet smile playing on his lips as he navigated the main roads of Lusaka. He had recently moved his family to Lusaka West, to a quiet, promising place called Kasupe. The move was a symbol of his new life, a world away from the struggles he had known before.

Just a year ago, he had landed a job as a senior executive at Distillers Inc, a multinational company renowned for its popular alcohol brands. His position as chief accountant came with a package that still felt like a dream. Within twelve months, he had secured a housing mortgage from the state-owned building society, acquiring a 10-acre smallholding where his children could run freely. The brand-new Peugeot, obtained through a company loan, was the final piece. Life hadn't just improved; it had been completely reborn.

He glanced at his wife, Joan, in the passenger seat. She was humming softly, a travel brochure for London resting in her lap. "Thinking about what you'll buy me from London?" he teased, his voice warm.

Joan looked up, her eyes sparkling. "I'm thinking about the dates from Tripoli. You know how Natasha’s face lights up. But maybe I'll find a nice tie for a certain chief accountant." She worked as an air hostess for Zambia Airways, the national flag carrier, a job that painted her life with the colors of the world. Her flight to London and then North Africa was later today. The North Africa routes were coveted by staff, not just for the extra pay, but for the sweet, sticky dates they could bring back—a taste of a distant land.

In the back, the children’s voices filled the car. "Paul, you're not listening!" Natasha, ever the little mother, chided her older brother. "Give me back my ball."

"I will," Paul mumbled, his gaze fixed on the window, watching the city wake up. At ten, he was quiet and observant, already carrying a thoughtful weight on his small shoulders.

"And Mutale, don't forget your lunchbox," Joan called back, turning to face them. "I packed your favorite."

Shadreck pulled into the school car park in Northmead. As the three kids disembarked, a flurry of "Bye, Dad! Bye, Mom!" followed them. A few other cars were coming and going, a routine morning scene. Just then, a white vanette drove in and stopped alongside the Peugeot. The driver, a thin, tall man with unsettlingly sharp eyes, beckoned to Shadreck as if to greet him.

"Bwino bwanji," Shadreck responded, his hand raised in a casual wave, though a flicker of unease registered in his mind. Before he could process it, two other men emerged from the van, their movements swift and purposeful as they headed straight for his car.

"Get out of the car!" one of them, a burly man in a long jacket, shouted. His voice was a raw command that shattered the morning's peace.

The world seemed to slow down. Shadreck’s mind raced—the kids, Joan, the sudden, aggressive threat. His protective instincts took over. Suspecting a carjacking, he turned the key, the engine roaring to life. His only thought was to reverse, to get his wife away from them.

But he was too late. Just as the engine revved, the other man pulled a gun from his trousers. The metallic glint caught the morning light. He opened fire.

The sound was deafening. The bullet struck Shadreck in the head. His body je**ed violently, his chest slamming against the steering wheel as blood splattered across the dashboard.

A piercing scream tore from Joan’s throat. Outside, the world froze. Parents, teachers, and students—including Paul, Natasha, and Mutale, who had turned back at the sound—looked on in bewildered horror.

Two more shots were fired, one hitting Joan in the neck, silencing her cry. The men moved with brutal efficiency, pushing the limp bodies out of the car. They jumped in, reversed with a screech of tires, and sped off, the white vanette following close behind.

School authorities scrambled to react. First aid was administered, a desperate attempt to stem the bleeding. An alternative transport was found to rush Joan to the hospital. She remained unconscious for several days, a flickering candle in a storm, before she couldn't hold on any longer.

And just like that, as the echoes of a normal Monday morning faded, young Paul and his siblings were left orphaned, standing on the edge of a life they no longer recognized.

Follow the story on Vakwatu – www.vakwatu.media

23/11/2025

Playing The Nicely Married – By Bob Bengah

Chapter 2: Experiencing Rejection!

There were others on campus who couldn’t move on from setbacks and eventually became eccentric. Take Ebo, for example—a stylish ‘chong’ who transformed into a ruthless ‘lumpen’.

The Lumpens were a notorious group, known for their sharp tongues and habit of roaming hostels at night to hurl insults at fellow students. They shouted phrases like “Fresher wawa” (first-year students are failing) or “Muchinje” (change your behavior). It was commonly believed this was their way of coping with their own frustrations.

When he first arrived on campus, Ebo was one of the finest gentlemen around, admired by many ‘momas’. He came from an affluent family; his father had been a senior executive at a State-Owned Enterprise (SOE) before being retrenched during Chiluba’s privatisation programme. Still, the family’s affluence showed.

Men’s fashion at the time was heavily influenced by grunge and hip-hop: trendy, loose-fitting flannel shirts and hoodies with matching baggy jeans, just like Snoopy Doggy Dog or Tupac wore. Ebo’s wardrobe was full of these styles, and students admired how effortlessly he switched between designer outfits.

One day he’d don a Tommy Hilfiger bomber jacket; the next, a hoodie with chunky sneakers or Timberland boots. His friends, ‘homies’ and ‘honeys’, found his company ‘laka’ (interesting). They always said good ‘vibes’ about him: ‘He is the don’, or ‘Exay, did you scan his rims and rig?’ (did you see his shoes and clothes?).

Beyond fashion, Ebo was charming. Most ladies considered him a “mister nice guy,” the type a moma would love to hang around with even if there was nothing intimate. The type referred to as ‘walking sticks’.

In his second year, Ebo participated in the ‘gold rush’—an annual tradition where ‘monks’ pursued first-year girls, who were believed to be “straight from the farm and full of farm goodness,” untouched by the “hard-to-get” attitude UNZA momas soon developed.

Sepi was one of the freshers that year. She stood out with her beauty—cute, a picture-perfect figure, and ideal pageant height. Like Ebo, she came from an affluent family. Her father worked for a multinational corporation and travelled abroad often, which reflected in her polished appearance. Yet, Sepi remained humble.

During the gold rush, she entertained countless suitors and became known for rejecting them one after another. Ebo joined the bandwagon, and because he was so likeable, befriending Sepi came easily. Before long they developed a close bond.

They did everything together, from sharing meals to taking peaceful walks by the Goma Lakes at twilight. For Ebo, this was more than a campus fling; he was completely head over heels, dutifully walking her to class and carrying her bag afterward. He never noticed Sepi's lack of enthusiasm, or the casual way she would dismiss their bond to her roommate. "It's nothing serious," she'd say, a quiet confession that would have shattered his world.

Towards the year's end, their relationship took a dramatic turn.

Sepi was encouraged by Ebo and others to enter a national beauty pageant. Drawing on his father’s connections, Ebo even arranged for a former Miss Zambia to personally coach her. Though pageants weren’t her thing, she reluctantly agreed. But once she stepped onto the stage, she was breathtaking. Her performance was exceptional, earning her the crown of Miss World – Zambia.

What neither of them anticipated was the fame that followed. Her schedule became packed with charity work and events. She was invited for radio and TV interviews, her name circulating in newspapers and magazines. It was during one of these events that she met Mubanga—a cunning man about town, known in many circles as a ‘tamanga’, a hustler.

Later, during a live studio interview on national television, the bombshell dropped. The interviewer casually asked if she had a boyfriend. Without hesitation, Sepi smiled and replied, “Oh yes, I do. He is even here in the audience.” Students watching leaned forward, expecting the camera to pan to Ebo.

But when the camera zoomed in, it landed squarely on Mubanga.

The news spread across campus like wildfire. When the story reached Ebo, he was agitated, unable to believe it. The moment Sepi returned to her room, he confronted her. To his shock, Sepi looked at him calmly and said the man in the audience was her boyfriend.

Ebo was confused. “So… what about us?” he asked.

“Did you ever propose?” she replied nonchalantly. “We are just friends.”

That’s when it dawned on Ebo that he had been a ‘walking stick’ all along.

That night marked the beginning of his descent—the slow unravelling of the gentleman everyone once admired.

Next chapter - Follow this series on Vakwatu Supa-Stories – www.vakwatu.media.

15/11/2025

15/11/2025

your webtv is here, link in the comment

14/11/2025

**She was young, naïve, and desperate to break free from the bond that nearly destroyed her. But escape left her scarred.**
Years passed.
She rebuilt.
She rose.

**Now she returns—not as the girl they broke, but as the woman ready to make them pay.**

*Catch the full story, only on **Vakwatu Supa-Stories**.*

---
Link in the comment

02/11/2025

If poetry is your passion, take a seat at our table. Vakwatu Showtime has a special segment just for poets — read, share, and connect.
👉 Sign up now at www.vakwatu.media

A Chopper Found Proper!

When she was young, seductive,
Her body she swung.
Gyrations she made sent ripples down her frame;
Man was not late on the scene.

With candy, he spiced his talk;
On the suckling, he played the sucker,
Skimming all the full-cream goodness.
He told her this and taught her that—
She was quick to learn how to receive the thickest of love.

Then came the ruin,
Just like a Limca can in the trash bin.
She was kicked about,
Done here, done there.

Though deep in mire, she never ceased to desire;
Men came in numbers, and all received a slice.
With experience, she transacted pleasure at leisure.
To many a man, she feigned the feeling.

A man would come,
Skin up the red, take off with the pump action,
And perform the killing.

In the end, it was done.
When young, full of pep and vim,
She would wriggle, groan, and moan as she clawed on hard.

Now she was done—despondent and melancholic.
She writhed, moaned, and groaned on her deathbed.
Her hands she threw helplessly, clawing at air—
Without a soul to save her.

Written by Sanchez (1995)

Editor’s Note:

“A Chopper Found Proper” was written in the mid-1990s by a student at the University of Zambia. Though the author has since passed on, this poem remains a vivid reflection of his fearless storytelling and emotional depth. His writings continue to be remembered for their honesty, cultural insight, and raw portrayal of human experience.

01/11/2025

We are back online, www.vakwatu.media