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![]() My chest heaved with relief she had saved me from a potentially embarrassing moment.Ī few students clapped hands for her but most of us were dying to get a breath of the fresh air outside. Clearing my throat in feigned hesitation, I heard Ulemo giving the answer from the front row where she sat, with full-fledged confidence. I had not even grasped the question that had been directed to me. I saw all eyes big and small, fixed in the direction where I sat, rooted to my chair without a care. "Kondwani, please give us the answer," she said. I was jolted back to the classroom atmosphere by the teacher's stern voice. I gulped a pint of saliva down my dry throat as temporary satiation as I awaited my 100-milliliter dose of water for the day. My older sister Sekani passed by, enduring the weight of the 20-liter bucket, which rested on her head arrogantly. ![]() I perched myself near the exit of the dimly lit room through the broken wall, I could see the harsh struggles of daily life. Mutana contributed the following short stort as July's contributor for Global Citizen's Emerging Creatives Program. ![]() Ruth Mutana is a creative writer living in Kwekwe, Zimbabwe, who uses writing to share stories of the disastrous impact of poverty and inequality on the most vulnerable communities. ![]()
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