Read the 2022 shortlist: an extract from Glory by NoViolet Bulawayo

RALLY

When at last the Father of the Nation arrived for the Independence Day celebrations, no earlier than 3:28 in the afternoon, the citizens, congregated at the Jidada Square since morning, had had it with waiting; they could’ve razed the whole of Jidada with their frustration alone, that is, if Jidada had been any other place. But the land of farm animals wasn’t any other place, it was Jidada, yes, tholukuthi Jidada with a ‑da and another ‑da, and just remembering this simple fact was enough to make most of the animals keep their feelings inside like intestines. The fierce sun, said by those who know about things to have been part of His Excellency’s cheerleading squad by decree, had been up glaring since midmorning, doling out forceful rays fit for a ruler whose reign was nearing all of – not one, not two, not three, but four solid decades.

The Jidada Party regalia worn by most of the animals for the occasion –  jackets and shirts and skirts and hats and scarves in various colours of the flag of the nation, many of the articles embossed with the face of His Excellency – trapped the sun’s terrible heat and made the wait even more unbearable. But not all of the animals were going to stand for the torturous wait – some indeed started to leave, grumbling about having work and things to do, about places to go to, about the leaders of other lands who arrived at things right on time like God’s infallible machete. These disgruntled animals started as just a smattering – two pigs, a cat, and a goose  –  but the faction very quickly grew to a respectable mass, and, emboldened by both their number and the sound of their own voices, the dissidents headed for the exit.

At the gate the group found themselves face‑to‑face with the Jidada Defenders, tholukuthi the dogs appropriately armed with batons, ropes, clubs, tear-gas canisters, shields, guns and such typical weapons of defending. It was a known fact all over the nation and beyond its borders that Jidada Defenders were by nature violent, morbid beasts, but it was especially the presence of the notorious Commander Jambanja, distinguishable in his signature white bandanna, that made the dissenters promptly turn around and retrace their steps, miserable tails between their legs.

THE POOR AND THE RICH DO NOT PLAY TOGETHER

Under a sprawling white tent sat the Seat of Power Inner Circle of the Jidada Party, which of course was the ruling party, otherwise known as the Party of Power, of which His Excellency was president. With them were some of His Excellency’s family members, friends and honoured guests. Tholukuthi the group of elites were, in all honesty and jealous down, a magnificent sight – the most exquisite cloth, expensive jewellery, and precious accessories of adornment, together with beautiful, well- groomed and healthy bodies, told of wealth and good living. These animals represented some of Jidada’s Chosen Ones, and were indeed proof of the Father of the Nation’s benevolence, for most of them had been made rich by His Excellency, if not directly, then through some kind of connection to him. They were proud recipients of gifts of land, businesses, tenders, government loans that didn’t need repaying, inheritors of confiscated farms, grantees of mines, industries, and all kinds of riches.

With not much to occupy them being that the celebrations hadn’t started, the miserable animals in the sun feasted on the Chosen with coveting eyes, and at moments actually forgot the heat cooking their bodies, the hunger gnawing at their bellies, the thirst parching their throats, yes, tholukuthi besotted with the pretty picture of their shaded betters sitting in comfortable chairs and sipping cold beverages. The hot, salivating ani‑ mals lapped at the sight with their eyes like it were a cool glass of honey- wine, and when they licked their dry, cracked lips, they were pleasantly surprised to taste faint traces of actual sweetness.