We Need New Names (2013) commences with a young girl called Darling from shanty
Paradise who crosses Mzilikazi Road to get to Budapest to steal guavas. Darling,
the narrator, is 10 years old. She hangs around with her friends: Godknows is
ten, Bastard is eleven, Sbho is nine, Stina doesn’t know her age because she
has no birth certificate, and Chipo is eleven and pregnant.
It
is in Zimbabwe where these friends play country-game in which “we fight over
the names because everybody wants to be certain countries, like everybody wants
to be the U.S.A and Britain and Canada and Australia …” Nobody wants to be
countries like Congo, Somalia and Iraq. Darling always wants to be the U.S.A
where her aunt Fostalina lives. School doesn’t exist for these children, not
like it did before their fathers lost their jobs, before they lived in the shanty
town, and before her father left home to go to South Africa. He returned home
with the Sickness, skinny and dying of AIDS. He wasn’t the same and she wasn’t
sympathetic – he shouldn’t have left her and her mother for so long.
The
election did not change a thing, not as her parents hoped. “Look at them
leaving in droves, the children of the land, just look at them leaving in
droves.” They are leaving “because it is no longer possible to stay. They will
never be the same again because you just cannot be the same once you leave
behind who and what you are, you just cannot be the same.”
Darling
leaves too. She leaves her mother and her friends to live with her aunt in
Detroit. It’s not the same as her home. At school, children “teased me about my
name, my accent, my hair … the way I dressed, the way I laughed … in the end I
just felt wrong in my skin, in my body, in my clothes, in my language, in my
head, everything.” She soon learns, from television, to talk like an American,
and look people straight in the eye.
Bulawayo
speaks from experience. She left Zimbabwe at eighteen to begin a new life in a
new country. This is a child to teenager transition, growing up, out of country and out of
place. Missing the old friends and making new ones; being dissed by the old for
talking like white folk and being dissed by the white folk for being not. Life
changes and people do too. And with it, the language of the novel changes, from
that of a young Zimbabwean child to an American teenager and beyond. The
innocent language of jacaranda trees and smells and colours and watching men
play board games - the poetic language - transitions to phone text shorthand, relationships, and American politics - the serious language.
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