Maeve Stewart

Rhodesia was not only the birth of a new country but the birth of a new race and the loss of family. It is about the woman, bent over in the fields with a hoe in her hand, the one balancing a bucket of water on her head with a baby strapped to her back, and maybe even the one sitting outside her hut waiting for the sun to set. It is about a child dressed in the same ragged clothes as her peers but whose skin is a shade lighter than theirs. It’s a study of segregation, a way of life, and the people, unseen and unheard, navigating through these waters, in their quest for survival. But mostly, it is a story of the vulnerability of three generations of mixed-race women in a country divided by segregation and with a bush war simmering in the background.

It does not matter what you say he does to you, Rajesh said after reflecting for a moment and the sting in his tone was now gone. You are his wife, remember that! Your bed is made, and you must lie in it!. Esther stared in front of her, her eyes gloomy with desperation, and the baby stirred restlessly in her arms, and she knew that she had no choice in the matter. And when the boss came to see her at the time that he usually did, it was as if she’d never even tried to leave.