SHORT STORY WITH FLAVOUR

BY

GRIFFIN THEU

(CHAMINADE SECONDARY SCHOOL)

10th June, 2024 Production

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 SHORT STORY
 Has a limited number of characters
 Has a restricted settings
 A narrow range of actions.

ELEMENTS OF A SHORT STORY

PLOT
 Sequence of events or actions in a literary work.

CLIMAX
 Point of highest emotional pitch.

SUSPENSE
 A feeling of anxious uncertainty about the outcome of events.

FORESHADOWING
 A hit at what is to come.

FLASHBACK
 A break away from the current actions of a story to recount events that happened
earlier.

CONFLICT
 A conflict is the central struggle between two opposing forces in a story or drama.
 Two types of conflict exists:
INTERNAL CONFLICT
The struggle between two opposing thoughts or deserves within the mind of a
character.
EXTERNAL CONFLICT
This exists when a character struggles against some outside force. The following are
the types of external conflicts:
Person against another person.
Person against society
Person against nature

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SETTING
Refers to the natural or artificial environment in which the story takes place.
Includes ideas, customs, values and beliefs of a particular time and place

CHARACTERISATION
Refers to the personality a character displays and also the means by which the writer reveals
that personality.
Generally, a writer develops a character in one or two of the following ways:
 Through the characters’ actions.
 Through the characters’ thoughts and speeches.
 Through the opinions others have about other characters.

CHARACTERS
 PROTAGONIST
The central character around when the main conflict revolves.
 ANTAGONIST
The person or force that opposes the protagonist.

POINT OF VIEW
FIRST PERSON POINT OF VIEW
 Use of pronouns such as me, us, me, us.
 Involves participating characters.
THIRD-PERSON POINT OF VIEW
 Use of names e.g. Mabvuto, and pronouns such as they, he, she.
 Involves a non-participating character.

THEME
 The central idea in a story.
 It can either be stated directly or implied.

POETIC JUSTICE
When the evil intended for another character returns to the schemer.

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COMMONLY ASKED QUESTIONS
 Identify conflict from the story.
 Identify the climax in the story.
 Identify the poetic justice in the story.
 Describe the geographical setting in the story
 Describe the character of.........
 Describe any two themes portrayed in the story.
 From what point of view is the story told? Justify your answer.
 Describe the mood/tone in the story.

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 SECTION A
SHORT STORIES WITH QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS

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 NSANJE DISTRICT MOCK
2024 MALAWI SCHOOL CERTIFICATE OF EDUCATION EXAMINATION

Read the following passage carefully and answer all the questions that follow.

DISPATCHED
SHARP THRILLS of laughter in the rain woke me up. I was cold and shivering-the body felt
like it was freezing. I sat up and pulled the remaining strands of the blanket to myself .The
floor felt much harder and smelt more terrible than usual. I pulling my feet closer when I
knocked a bucket. It rolled over, spilling the contents on the already moist floor. A strong
offense odour of urea greeted my nose, threatening to suffocate me.

I got up on my feet and pulled out the shirt that I had plugged into the hole to keep the rain out.
It was the only hole in the wall. I was there to save as a window. It was barred by steel wire,
although not even a baby`s head could pop out. I raised my nostrils onto the hole and took a
long deep breath of fresh air. Then I peeped out only to be greeted by darkness. The security
light in the fence were on. I must have been sleeping for more than four hours.

Various songs by creatures that delighted in the rain drew my attention. I was picking out the
croaking of frogs and sifting the meaning of their hoarse tones when the door creaked open. It
must be ages since it was last oiled; the hinges were getting rusty, I thought. A pair of large
black boots filed the doorway announcing the arrival of one of the most dreaded moments of
my life at Minga Prison. Sunday night was the time when every inmate was visited by a man
calling himself scorpion. Scorpion generously donated harsh doses of embarrassing pain. I wish
I could sublimate.

“How is the day?” he asked.

“Bad,” I snorted the reply.
“Bad? Why bad?” He sounded irritated by my rather frank response. I was surprised by his
response because it was not the first time to tell him this truth. In any case, he never cared.
Now I failed to see why my innocent and fair assessment of the day should irritate him at all.
It made me panic.

“Ea a I… I… mean … the rain… eh… I am terribly cold sir… its awful here,” I hesitantly
fumbled an explanation.
“Hm mm!” he mumbled.

Silence followed. I longed to have a look at the man`s face but I was never permitted. I believed
no one was. Scorpion was a peculiar sort of person. He often laughed at scenes nobody was
humour in. I sometimes felt I was only trying to pretend sanity in his sadistic life. His silence
now made me remember the night when he had asked me to hold his „thing‟ in my hands. I
was sneezing badly then and each time I lifted the hands to my face it was his thing bobbing
there! He went on to urinate in my palms and laughed his lungs out. Now I dreaded to think he
was formulating another act of torment. His actions were aimed at reducing a person to nothing
but a shred of muslin cloth!

“You must be very ungrateful Mr Kameta.” He said breaking the silence.

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I remained silent. Fear took charge of the corners of my body. I imagined him striking his
famous “Venomous blow.” Although I did not know what it was but the way he boasted about
it was enough to cause terror. “That will be the end of you.” I recalled him saying. According
to scorpion nobody ever survived the blow. Whatever it was I could not imagine what would
happen it was unleashed on me.

“Look you buffoon! You have the best accommodation at this place, you get the utmost
treatment and maximum respect. Have you ever danced naked before school girls?” He asked
in a tone that suggested I about to dance. I felt scared. My stomach seemed to melt at the idea
of an adult: some of them fathers and others grandfathers, parading before a bunch of school
girls who would be screaming with laughter.

“No,” I promptly said.

“You have the largest room here and the choicest food available yet you it`s awful here1
Perhaps you should be transferred to Wing B so that you can have friends around you.” He
suggested. The suggestion made me uneasy. I started feeling unthankful to scorpion.

“No! Please don’t,” I protested but the door creaked shut and darkness swallowed the strange
figure of scorpion. He was gone. I was now alone staring the darkness while strange
imaginations of Wing B whizzed in my mind. I revisited tales about the place which I heard
when I was entering the life of Minga. My knowledge has been updated since I was locked up
in cell X639.

I settled down on the floor. I no longer felt the heavy odour of urea. My thoughts lingered on
the accusations scorpion had levelled at me. My reasoning was coming into line but I failed to
accept the privileges that scorpion said I had. He knew that ate only at once in two days. The
meal itself was prepared for pigs and only diverted to my cell. My thoughts returned to the
impending transfer. Going to Wing B made me feel scared. I felt like jumping over a cliff to
die and forget about the whole ordeal or drink the contents of the bucket in my cell to poison
myself to death. I picked up the bucket quickly, raised it to the mouth and waited for the
contents to flow in, but no single did. It was empty! I fumed at myself for having overturned
the bucket in the first place. I was putting it down when it occurred to me that I could jump off
the bucket and break my legs. I tried to stand straight. Hopeless and helpless I retreated to my
corner waiting for scorpion to do as it pleased him.

But the man did not return. I gave up waiting. My mind wandered off into the time I had been
in this prison. I slowly flipped through memories of the very first days. Upon arrival I was told
by inmates that I was not going to walk out of cell X639 breathing. Thus, when I went in, I was
already dead. I had no hope of survival. I began to gather of living on after four years in the
cell.

The sound of a lady`s shoe in the corridor alerted me. I heard the key turn and the door creak
open. I was called out for the first time in four years. I was scaring. I was leaving never to
return to my beloved place again. I quivered my way out while putting on the wet shirt. I was
astonished to meet a half a sturdy half naked woman. She only wore a min-skirt a brassiere!
Her navel was in the open. I stepped back unsure of the sight before me. She saw my
discomfort. She took me by hand and led me out assuring me that nothing was amiss. I followed
reluctantly. Years had passed since I was last treated to such an onerous occasion. - feasting
my eyes on a woman`s figure bouncing before me. Strong currents rose from various parts of
my body almost jamming the body system.

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“I know you are afraid but I want to assure you of no harm from me!” She said turning around
to show me a broad smile.

Deep down I was perturbed but chose to maintain my silence, unsure of the strange happening.
My voice was safely stacked away in dungeons of suspicion and disbelief. “I want you to have
good time with Nelisa. Feel free please.” She was drawing close, I panicked. Her left hand
stretched out giving my beard a soft stroke. I noticed for the first time that my beard was in
dire need of a shave. I felt ashamed.
All sorts of fears rammed into my mind. I thought she was plotting my fall. On the other hand
I thought she was only helping herself on inmates and it was now my turn. But the thought that
Scorpion was hiding somewhere watching me fall into his trap made me powerless and
helpless. I gathered courage and really spoke out.
(An extract of Patrick Nyirenda`s Short story from Unsung Song)

Questions
a. Describe the mood of the story.
The story has sad/ unhappy mood. The prisoner who happens to be the narrator is badly
treated in the cell e.g. being urinated in his palms by the scorpion (2 marks)

b. (i) Identify the geographical setting of the story.

Urban setting (1 mark)
(ii) Justify your answer in b (i).
The presence of the prisons in the area (1 mark)

c. „„It never rains but it surely pours‟‟. How does this proverb relate to the short story?
The proverb means that the narrator is in the situation of meeting the problems from time to time
e.g. he is in harsh condition in the first cell and he also meets the same problems when transferred
to wing B cell X639 (2 marks)

d. Describe the character of each of the following:

(i) The narrator
He is strong/persistent. He perseveres all sorts of ill-treatments in the prison
He is morally-weak. He is easily seduced by the woman who dresses naked in the prison
(2 marks)
(ii) The scorpion
He is brutal/ harsh/ cruel. He treats the narrator badly in the cell e.g. urinating in the
hands of the narrator (2 marks)

e. In what point of view is the story told?

First person point of view: The narrator addresses the story by pointing to himself using
first person pronoun “I” (1 mark)

g. Explain any two themes that are exhibited in the short story.
i. Endurance/ perseverance: the prisoners endures hard treatment in the prison.
ii. Brutality: the Scorpion treats the inmates badly in the prison.
iii. Seduction: the woman in the cell seduces the narrator as she dresses naked (4 marks)

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Read carefully the following passage and answer the questions that follow.
THE WITCH
It was after several days that the gong-gong was beaten in the late afternoon and the
whole village was called to assemble outside the chief’s house. The crowd was large
and I climbed very high in the tree and sat in the swaying branches; I watched the whole
scene.

The chief emerged. He was a middle aged man dressed in full regalia of grey and a
matching grey overcoat, as well as, grey sandals. He was accompanied by his horn
blower and interpreter bearing his staff of office and the elder of the village. A small
boy of my own age carried the royal stool and another walked in front of the chief
acknowledging on his behalf the greetings from the crowd. The chief and his party sat
down.

Then came the chief priest; tall, naked to the waist, followed by his assistant. Some of
these were children too. Little girls in white skirts and their bodies smeared with white
clay, and covered with strings of white cowrie shells.

Another group then came from the chief’s house. In the centre of it were three women.
Their clothes were torn and in tatters. They stumbled and wept uncontrollably.
Obviously, they had been roughly treated. Two of them were old and wrinkled. The
other was about my mother’s age, plump and appealing to the eye. They were accused
of being behind Misonzi’s death. But they all denied that they had killed the girl. The
crowd began to jeer at them and threatened to kill them. A few stones were pelted but
the chief ordered the people to be still.

Three cocks were brought and given to the assistants of the priest. The first old lady
was brought before the chief. She was sternly warned to speak the truth or else the gods
would surely kill her. She threw herself on her knees and swore that she was not guilty.

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 A sharp knife cut the cock’s throat half way across. Then it was thrown on the ground.
Amid a breathless silence the cock struggled to its feet, run a few steps, collapsed and
died on its back with its breast uppermost. The crowd roared. The gods had accepted
the woman’s answer. She had spoken the truth. She was innocent and therefore, free.
She fell sobbing on the ground until the chief came and helped her to her feet.

The second old woman was brought forward. She too denied that she was a witch and
the same ritual followed. Her cock too died on its back and the gods acknowledged her
innocence. The crowd grew restless as the third woman was brought forward. An angry
muttering prevented me from hearing what the woman answered. The priest took the
cock in his hand but then paused and, in a loud and stern voice, which silenced the
crowd, cried,

“Take care woman with what you say. If you are guilty, the gods will surely reveal it
by killing you!”
The woman stood upright and looked proud and defiant. The priest took up his knife
but before he had time to use it, the woman fell to the ground her limbs twitching and
foam coming from her mouth. The crowd roared fiercely. The priest put down the knife
and let the cock flutter away. Then trembling, she confessed that she was a witch .There
she was strongly advised by the priest to confess all her crimes.

Questions.
1. i.What is the geographical setting of the story.
Rural setting (1 mark)
ii.Justify your answer to a (i).
The whole village gathers outside the chief’s house.
People believe in witchcraft. (1 mark)

2. Describe the characters portrayed in each of the following:

i) The crowd
They are superstitious. The people believe that the woman are witches
(2 marks)
ii) The priest.
He is wise/ intelligent .He cross-examines the accused women through a
ritual before passing his verdict.
He is practical. He calls for proof to show that the accused are really
witches and not acting on unsustainable facts (2 marks)
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 3. In what point of view is the story told?
First point of view (1mark)

4. Describe any two themes portrayed in the story.

i. Superstition – Belief that a ritual performance can decide whether
women are witches or not.
ii. Religion – People believe in the gods who are working through the chief’s
priest.
iii. Mob justice – The people want to judge the women on their own by
instituting mob justice i.e. throwing stones. (4 marks)

5. What evidence shows that the chief is greatly respected?

As soon as the chief orders that the stoning should stop, everyone obeys and no
stone is pelted at the women (2 marks)

6. Describe the poetic justice in the story.

The third woman confesses that she is guilty and therefore deserves the
punishment that is due to her. Otherwise the first two women would suffer
innocently at her expense (2 marks)

NORTHERN EDUCATION DIVISION

2024 MALAWI SCHOOL CERTIFICATE OF EDUCATION MOCK
EXAMINATION
Read the following short story and answer the questions that follow.

MY GUARDIAN ANGEL
I am rotting in this dark, freezing and lice-infested police cell waiting to appear before the court
of law, not by my own making or design. Of course, it’s all because of my parents’ penury that
I am in this state. I can’t help but cry at the prospect of me, Ndaziona, being imprisoned and
condemned by the fiery and imposing magistrate to incalculable years in prison for allegedly
attempting to force myself on a woman thirty years my senior.

“So, you kid has the guts to aim your tiny pistol at someone as big as I am?” asks an overweight
senior female police officer with manly features.

“Some of us are small outside but big inside, Madam,” chips in a half-drunk skinny and bonny
Constable with a twinkle in his eye, inviting more laughter from his fellow officers.

Honestly, I have never seen the law enforcers this cheery in my entire life. The picture that I
have had of them is that of serious-minded Chuck Norris and Cynthia Rothrock characters who
never take any jokes and hardly smile or show their dental formula. You see what? I am sharing
this cell with hard-core crooks of all time, the Scarface type. Remember Zinenani, Tithana and
Sankhulani famed for a spate of robberies with violence, murder and rape cases across the
country? They are all locked up here.

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Amazingly, they don’t seem bothered at all. I guess it all goes down to getting used to this
place which they cheekily call home. I see them chattering and mocking each other of their
thwarted plans. They attribute it all to one unswerving and shrewd detective, whoever the
fellow is, that’s a topic for another day. As expected, I have had a thorough panel beating by
Zinenani and his dreadful pair of jackals. The blood oozing on my face bares it all. And now
to the root of the matter- as I said before, I’m here for allegedly attempting to rape a woman
thirty years my senior.

It all started three years ago when my father dropped the atomic bomb that with his modest
means of earning a living, he couldn’t manage raising the inflated tuition fees for my parallel
studies in Efficient Manure Production at Tikolore College of Agriculture. I almost dropped
dead instantly.

Dejected but not ruined, I kept on ‘knocking’. The door finally opened for me when this Good
Samaritan in question, a picturesque and compassionate lady overheard me at the
Malangalanga City Mall updating my mesho (mate) on the ordeal that I was in.

“Excuse me, son, here is my card. Please do call me some time tomorrow morning and I will
give you directions to my place. I hope I can work out something for us,” she divulged
harmoniously. Open-mouthed and stock-still and unsure of whether I was dreaming or not, I
grabbed the opportunity with both hands. She must be the answer to my fervent prayers, I
declared. The business card revealed she was the Country Director for Dream of the Child, a
reputable NGO.

“You see what Ndaziona? I am ready to give you a hand with regards to your tuition as long as
your parents release you during semester holidays to help me with household chores,” she said
with an air of finality.

I couldn’t believe my stroke of luck. That meant my dream of attaining a University Degree
was still alive. All thanks to this heaven- sent guardian angel.

My stay with the Good Samaritan over the past two years has been far from what I feared it
would be, it’s all been fun and she has always encouraged me to be a prisoner of the book if I
am to realize my cherished dream. She has in truest sense affected my life like sunshine.
However, things astonishingly took a twist last semester holiday when I noticed some changes
in my single beloved Guardian Angel.

She could invite me to her bedroom for no apparent reason at all other than to tell me how
gorgeous I was, at which she kept looking at me seductively. Dumbfounded, I took everything
as a joke of the century and threw it at the back of my mind.

“Get it from me kid, you are smashing handsome,” she mouthed it again into my ears the
following evening, this time sterner than the other occasions. I realized things were dangerously
getting out of hand.

My world finally tumbled last Friday evening when my Guardian Angel, dressed in an alluring
and beguiling tight mini-skirt with an undersized bra on top failing to cover up her enormous
breasts, grabbed me by the collar and dragged me into her master bedroom.

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“This is no joke Ndaziona. Do it now, you qualified fool or I shall have you locked up for
attempting to rape me!” She ordered while pulling my tight blue denim trousers down, her eyes
bright with expectation. I was filled with an unexpected shiver of fear instantly.
“No Mum, you know I can’t do that. After all, you er…er…are older than…,” I choked at the
words and broke into uncontrollable tears at the sudden turn of events.

And no sooner had I turned her down than she tore her body-hugging mini-skirt and cried out
for help, claiming I was attempting to rape her. Her eyes were taut with rage as she huffed and
her lips vibrated to the rhythm of false disarray within.

The whole Area 18 neighbourhood thronged the scene immediately and out of the corner of
my tear-filled eyes, I saw a Police van pull up.
I am sweating profusely in this cell waiting to appear before the court of law this noon. And
with all my innocence I shall maintain a ‘Not Guilty’ plea, no matter what.

Something inside so strong tells me I am winning this case. In case you didn’t know, I was
smart enough to tape everything with my Samsung Galaxy phone which was ironically
procured by my Guardian Angel last week as a surprise birthday present.

I didn’t produce this evidence before the law enforcers cautiously, knowing how wicked some
few individuals can be when greenbacks are waved in their face. Their faculty of reason
instantly goes into hibernation, polluting the streams of justice in the process. I am only waiting
for the right moment to strike, and someone will apparently have a lot of explaining if not
stuttering to do before the learned Magistrate.

Yes, with my handy evidence I shall eventually sue my Guardian Angel,Charity Chatayika, for
false detention and you know precisely what that means.

Questions
a. What is the point of view of the story?
First Person point of view (1 mark)

b. What is the geographical setting of the story? Justify your answer.

Urban setting- the presence of city malls (2 marks)

c. Explain how the title of this story is ironic?

The guardian angel is responsible for the suffering of Ndaziona (2 marks)

d. What figures of speech are as used in the following expressions:

(i). “I almost dropped dead.”
Hyperbole / Alliteration (2 marks)

(ii). “Something inside so strong…”

Alliteration (2 marks)

e. How are the following themes portrayed in the story?

i. Hastiness
The woman falsely accuses Ndaziona for rapes (2 marks)
ii. Disappointment

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 Ndaziona who hoped that the woman would change his situation for the better but
he is disappointed when the woman accuses him falsely, leading to his
imprisonment.
The lady gets disappointed and decides to frame Ndaziona for attempted rape
(2 marks)

f. Describe one character of the Ndaziona.

He is morally upright. He refuses to yield to the woman’s sexual advances.
He is secretive. He does not reveal his evidence before the police.
He is decisive. He is not swayed by the woman’s threat (2 marks)

SHIRE HIGHLANDS EDUCATION DIVISION

2024 MALAWI SCHOOL CERTIFICATE OF EDUCATION MOCK
EXAMINATION
THE BLACK KNIFE
With a piercing scream, I cried out, "Malawulo, malawulo, malawulo! Malodza, malodza
malodza!" The sound of my voice drew the attention of the whole village. People came running
from all directions, even from the neighbouring villages. They formed a circle around me,
curious and alarmed. In my right hand, I clutched a black knife and a pig lay on the ground. I
shook my head in disbelief, as if I had just witnessed a terrible nightmare.
"Malawulo, malawulo, malawulo!" the crowd repeated, amplifying the drama of the scene. It
felt like a scene from a Nollywood movie.
Dawudi had arrived in our village seven rains ago. He was a farm worker, a poor and humble
man. Dawudi worked his fingers to the bone to feed his family. I hired him to work on my farm
for his entire stay in Dzaoneni Village.
I won't lie. Dawudi was a big factor in my financial success. He took care of several hectares
of maize and tobacco for me. He also tended to my large vegetable garden tirelessly. Even in
the dry season, he grew maize for me using only a foot water pump for irrigation. Within four
years, I was the wealthiest man in the village. That's when I decided to lend him a piece of land
for his own farming. It was a way of showing my gratitude for his hard work and loyalty.
Dawudi toiled on both my field and his own, which I had lent him out of generosity. He did
not neglect either farm, but gave them his full attention. In two years, he became self-sufficient.
He had plenty of food and money to spare. His wife and children blossomed with health and
happiness. He bought new clothes for his family. He built a pigsty and started raising pigs. The
livestock business was very profitable for him. The pigs brought him wealth and prosperity.
The whole village witnessed his swift and steady ascent to economic freedom. The elders of
the land counted him as one of the men in the village. I hated him.
One day, he came to my house in the morning. He looked radiant and joyful, like a bridegroom
on his wedding day.

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"Yes, my friend Dawudi. Please have a seat. How is everyone at home?" I asked him.
"We are all well, Bwana Gama. I hope everyone is well too," Dawudi replied courteously.
"Yes, we are doing fine. What brings you here this early?"
"Bwana Gama, I came to express my gratitude for your support given to me and my family
throughout all these years. Right now, I want to inform you, Bwana, that I am now financially
secure. I came to respectfully inform you that I will no longer be working on your farm. Also,
I would like to return the piece of land that you lent me. I have bought a piece of land that I
think will be sufficient for my needs. Once again, thank you very much, Bwana," Dawudi
concluded.
What he said stunned me. There was no one else who was as skilled and loyal as Dawudi to
take care of my farm. That was a fatal blow to me. Why did Dawudi decide to betray me like
that? Who did he think he was? I vowed to teach him a lesson.
After a few days had passed, I started paying young boys to spread malicious rumours in the
village. One rumour had it that Dawudi was using witchcraft to become rich. Another rumour
had it that his pigs were human babies who were vanishing mysteriously in the village. The
youngsters also spread rumours about his maize field. Dawudi was using magic to achieve
bumper harvests. Everyone despised Dawudi in Dzaoneni Village. This was a green light to
me. My plan was working. I smirked to myself. But that was not enough. I swore not to rest
until I had completely ruined him. Who did he think he was?
One day, I bought a pig from Dawudi. I planned to kill it the next day for a village feast. The
chief was unveiling a tombstone for his mother who had died the previous year. I wanted to
impress him with my generosity, so I bought a pig from Dawudi, my new rival. I rose early on
the day of the feast. I tried to slaughter the pig, but it resisted my knife. The black knife bounced
off from its skin. I tried to scald it with water, but it still did not die. I started to scream,
summoning everyone to my compound.
“Malawulo malawulo malawulo! Malodza kuno malodza!”
The crowd flocked to the compound. We all agreed that the pig was not a normal pig. It was a
magic pig. We then dragged the pig to the police station. That was when I told the crowd that
the pig belonged to Dawudi. I thought the police would arrest him for witchcraft. If only I had
known...?
“Dawudi is a sorcerer. A witch! I have tried several times to kill the pig with my knife, but in
vain. I also poured boiling water on the pig. But it did not die. He is a sorcerer. Not only is he
practicing witchcraft in our village, but he has also disrupted the tombstone unveiling
ceremony, dishonouring the memory of our mother who passed away last year. Dawudi must
go!” I incited the crowd.
All the people turned back to go and burn Dawudi’s house. They howled for his blood.
“Achoke! Achoke! Achoke!” the mob chanted with deafening noise. Dawudi was a foreigner;
he had to leave the village. But the police were quick to disperse the crowd and rescue Dawudi.
I did not know that the police also went to my house where they found the black knife I was
using to kill the pig. They also had a small chat with my wife. If only I had known...?

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“Listen people of Dzaoneni Village. It is against the laws of Malawi to accuse someone of
witchcraft,” Constable Maganga said with a slow but firm voice.
The crowd was ready to stone the police station. They had all the proof that Dawudi was a
witch. Thank goodness that the chief calmed the mob, though still eager to know more.
“If you say there is no witchcraft,” wondered the chief, “explain to us why the knife did not cut
through the pig’s skin. And why did the pig not die after Mr Gama poured hot water on the
pig?” the chief paused with self-satisfaction written all over his face. He thought he had
outsmarted the naive police officers. If only he had known...?
“Those are good questions chief. But let me ask a few questions to Mr Gama before answering
your queries. Mr Gama, when did you pour hot water on the pig?” asked Constable Maganga.
“Thirty minutes ago,” I answered. I was now sweating. The corner was getting smaller and
smaller. The noose was getting tighter.
“Who gave you the water?”
“My wife boiled the water in the kitchen.”
“You see? Your Mr Gama here is a liar. We have found no traces of fire in his kitchen. His
wife says they did not light any fire at all today. Now where did Mr Gama boil the water? On
his bald head?” joked the constable. The mob burst into laughter. “The water was cold,
obviously. Don't let him fool you.”
“But what about the knife?” one Thomas Didymus asked.
“You mean this knife?” he lifted the black knife for everyone to see. He had taken the knife
from my house. He then broke the knife in two with his bare hands.
The crowd was stunned. They all saw it clearly. The black knife was not a real knife. It was a
piece of wood that I had painted black to look like a knife.
“Mr Gama, you are under arrest.”

Questions
a) Why do people visit Gama’s compound?
They hear him screaming and are curious to know what is happening. (1 mark)
b) From what point of view is the story narrated?
First person point of view (1 mark)
c) Describe the character of the following:
(i).Gama
He is jealous. He hates Dawudi when he is counted by elders as one of the men.
He is deceptive. He tries to trick people into believing that Dawudi was a magician.
He is cruel for trying hard to tarnish Dawudi’s name.
(2 marks)
(ii) Constable Maganga
He is inquisitive. He asks Gama questions to establish the truth.
He is humorous. He teases Gama for his bald head.

Page 16 of 35
 (2 marks)
d) What figures of speech do the following expressions present?
(i).green light = symbol (1 mark)
(ii).Thomas Didymus = allusion (1 mark)
(iii).seven rains = metaphor (1 mark)

e) How has the narrator created flashback in the story?

The narrator begins by telling the reader about the present day events and then
flashes the plot back with seven years to take the reader to the time when Dawudi
came to the village. (2 marks)

f) Why is Gama under arrest?

He accuses Dawudi of practicing witchcraft which is against the law. (2 marks)

g) Explain one theme from the story.

Jealousy: Gama hates Dawudi when he is counted by elders as one of the men.
Deception: Gama tries to trick people into believing that Dawudi was a magician.
Superstition: He believes that Dawudi is practicing witchcraft.
(2 marks)

SOUTH EAST EDUCATION DIVISION

2024 MALAWI SCHOOL CERTIFICATE OF EDUCATION MOCK EXAMINATION
Read the passage carefully and answer the questions that follow.

THE TRULY MARRIED WOMAN

As Jonas sipped his cup of morning tea, he stirred at the town slowly waking up. The watchmen who
had slept all night now banged the locks of stores and houses to assure themselves and their employees
of their efficiency. Village women trampled through the streets to the market place with their wares,
arguing and gossiping.

Nambewe had already laid out his breakfast. It was as he liked it; the tea weak, sugary without milk.
She was his wife. ‘Not really,’ he would explain to close friends, ‘But a mistress kind of. A good one!’

Nambewe had borne him three children and was three months gone with another. They had been
together for twelve years. She was patient handsome woman. Very dark with very white teeth and open
sincere eyes. When she first came to him, he had fully intended to marry her as soon as she had shown
satisfactory evidence of fertility but now never. She would look at him with hopeful eyes until she gave
up.

‘You are a beautiful woman, my daughter!’ her father had once tried to reason with her, ‘You can marry
a high school teacher or a pharmacist, not a messenger!’ he shook his head and never spoke to her
again.

But Nambewe loved Jonas and was happy. She cooked him meals and bore him children. Only her
mother visited her secretly and attended the baptismal ceremonies of all her children.

The church charged her extra for illegitimate children as a deterrent; four thousand instead of five
hundred kwacha. Apart from this, there was no great objection. Occasionally, the pastor would preach

Page 17 of 35
violently again adultery, polygamy, and unmarried couples living together. There would be a little
grumbling among the males in the congregation; ‘That is the problem of the church; it does not stick to
its business; preaching the Gospel but meddled with others private lives.’

Jonas and Nambewe were good church people and attended regularly but sat on different pews. After
such occasions, their friends would sympathise with them.

One day, while seated in his office, a heavy knock sounded at the door, ‘we represent the World Gospel
Crusade,’ the visitors announced as he opened the door. During the conversation, it transpired that a
friend had applied on his behalf to be considered for international Bible study. In response, they had
come all the way, as they said, ‘to redeem him, the lost soul.’ Jonas invited them to his house. Nambewe
was introduced and she made a little conversation in English with their white visitors. The house was
clean and neat. This pleased Jonas. The visitors were delighted too and insisted on taking photos for
their crusade magazine and offered Jonas deaconship.

For many days, Jonas thought about this matter. ‘I am a holly man now!’ ‘Ah! Sly woman! Always
quiet and meek! Quoting modern theories from overseas doctors for me! And she would be running for
Town Council next year!’ he smiled with pride. ‘Indeed Nambewe is an asset!’

He sorted himself as nothing and decided to marry her with haste as if fearing for the worse, ‘Maybe
a friend, I don’t know….’

As Nambewe was preparing the last meal, she was shocked to receive a phone call,
‘It’s me, Jonas! Your husband,’ introducing himself.
‘Yes.’
‘Would you please come?’
‘Come? Come where? What’s wrong?’
‘I have already sent a taxi.’ ‘A taxi! But I’m…’ The phone went off.

She found him standing outside a hotel. After particularly a good meal and satisfaction. As he knelt
down to announce his intention, Nambewe got up looking at him with anxiety, ‘Are you alright? Is there
anything wrong at the office? Has anyone insulted you?

‘No, there is nothing wrong with me wanting to marry you.’ Nambewe laughed, ‘as you will, but don’t
say that I forced you into it.’

Questions
a. In what point of view is the story told?
Third person point of view (1 mark)

b. Describe the geographical setting of the story.

Urban: people in the story depend on employment; Jonas works as messenger, the guards
whom he stirs are at work (2 marks)

c. What evidence shows that the status of the family in the story is large contributed by Jonas not
Nambewe?
Nambewe has provided all the proofs to Jonas through fertility, patience and loyalty yet
he does not organise their marriage ceremony (2 marks)

d. Describe one character of Jonas.

He is deceitful. He does not fulfil his promise of marrying Nambewe as soon as she proves
fertile. (2 marks)

e. How is the theme of deceit portrayed in the story

i. Jonas not fulfilling his promise of marrying Nambewe as soonas she proves fertile.

Page 18 of 35
 ii. The guards sleeping the whole night only to bang the house locks at daybreak deceiving
their employees that they do their job effectively (2 marks)

f. Explain any two effects of the marriage in the story.

i. The woman is excommunicated by her family.
ii. The church overcharges them during baptism of their children
iii. They feel offended when the church preaches about adultery and unmarried
couples.
(4 marks)
g. Why the story is entitled ‘The Truly Married Woman’?
i. She is married to a man of her choice
ii. The man marries her upon getting satisfied with certain conditions (2 marks)

MZUZU DIOCESE
2024 HAC MOCK EXAMINATION
Read the following story and answer questions that follow.

THE GOOD SAMARITAN

Veronica was broken-hearted when government took its decision to suspend Free Primary Education
until all the relevant factors had been thoroughly examined. She had come to love school as an escape
from the arduous demands of home. Her mother, a near-destitute widow who spent all hours of the day
in the farm and, on market days, in the market left Veronica to carry the burden of caring for the younger
children.

Her widowed mother, Martha, was a hard-luck woman. She had had an auspicious beginning long ago
as a pioneer pupil at St. Monica. Most of her schoolmates had married young teachers and were now
wives of pastors and one or two even of bishops. But Martha, encouraged by her teacher had married a
young carpenter trained by white artisan-missionaries. In spite of the bright hopes of those early
evangelical days, carpentry never developed very much in the way teaching and clerical jobs were to
develop. So when Martha’s husband died, he left her in complete ruins.

Soon after Veronica withdrew from school, Emenike, a rich man of their village who lived in the capital,
called on Martha. His car pulled up on the side of the main road and he walked to the widow’s hut.
Martha was perplexed at the visit of such a great man and as she bustled about for cola nut, she kept
wondering. Soon the great man himself in the hurried style of modern people cleared up the mystery.

“We have been looking for a girl to take care of our new baby and today someone told me to inquire
about your girl…”

At first Martha was reluctant, but when the great man offered her K50 000 for the girl’s services in the
first year, plus feeding and clothing, she began to soften.

“Of course it is not money I am concerned about,” she said, “but whether my daughter will be well
cared for.”

“You don’t have to worry about that, Ma. She will be treated just like one of our own children. My wife
is a Social Welfare Officer and she knows what it means to care for children. Your daughter will be
happy in our home, I can tell you that. All she will be required to do is carry the little baby and give it
its milk while my wife is away at the office and the older children at school.”

Page 19 of 35
“Veronica and her sister Joy were also at school last term,” said Martha without knowing why she said
it.

“Yes, I know. That thing the government did is very bad. My belief is that a child who will be somebody
will be somebody whether he goes to school or not. It is all written here, in the palm of the hand.”
Martha gazed steadily at the floor and then spoke without raising her eyes. “When I married, I said to
myself: My daughters will do better than I did. I read Standard Three in those days and I said they will
all go to College. Now they will not have even the little I had thirty years ago. When I think of it my
heart aches.”

“Ma, don’t let it trouble you too much. As I said before, what any one of us is going to be is all written
here, no matter what the difficulties.”

“Yes. I pray God that what is written for these children will be better than what He wrote for me and
my husband.”

“Amen!…And as for this girl if she is obedient and good in my house what stops my wife and me
sending her to school when the baby is big enough to go about on his own? Nothing. And she is still a
small girl. How old is she?”
“She is ten.”
“You see? She is only a baby. There is plenty of time for her to go to school.”

He knew that the part about sending her to school was only a manner of speaking. Martha knew too.
Veronica who had been listening to everything from a dark corner of the adjoining room did not. She
actually worked out in her mind the time it would take the baby to go about on its own and it came out
quite short. So she went happily to live in the capital in a great man’s family and looked after a baby
who would soon be big enough to go about on his own and then she would have a chance to go to
school.
(Adapted from vengeful Creator by Chinua Achebe)

Questions
1. In what point of view is the story told?
Third person point of view (1 mark)

2. Describe the geographical setting of the story.

Rural: the presence of huts (2 marks)

3. Describe the character of the following individuals.

i. Emenike: hypocritical/ dishonest/ inconsiderate/ abusive/ heartless/ cruel/ exploitative
(2 marks)
4. ii. Veronica ;ambitious/ naïve/ dutiful/ caring/ responsible/ hardworking (2 marks)

5. Discuss any two themes portrayed in the story.

Child labour/ poverty/ bad governance/ hypocrisy/ exploitation/ violation of human
rights/ death/ child abuse/ hard work/ responsibility (4 marks)

6. What shows that Martha is in great need of money?

She readily accepts money when she is offered (2 marks)

7. In what way is the title of the story ironic?

Emenike does not actually want to help Veronica by sending her to school instead, he
simply wants to exploit her (2 marks)

Page 20 of 35
 SECTION B
SHORT STORIES WITHOUT QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS

Page 21 of 35
THE WINNER by Ron Richard Muphuwa

The night was over and the sun’s light begun to shimmer through the grass thatch of the house. Across
the river, rain clouds started to gather on the head of Ndunde Hill. Inside the house, Changa Ndamanga
tried to open his eyes and make sense of the surrounding, and groped for his tatter of the only pair of
trousers beside the mat. It was not what one could call a cloth, for it was in shreds having been worn
for the last ten years or so. He tried to look around to see if his wife was still asleep. But she had already
left for Tinkanena’s house to look for flour to prepare a little porridge for the children.

Changa Ndamanga stood and stretched himself. His eyes were red from the alcohol he had guzzled the
previous night. He walked around the room in search of the winnower he had woven for his customer,
Mandevu. He told himself that if he sold the winnower, then the effect of his hangover would be history.
What he did not know was that his wife had other ideas, for she had already exchanged the winnower
with a basin of flour at the Tinkanenas. He tried to ransack the things which were in the room but the
winnower was nowhere to be seen. At that moment, he rushed out of the room and made his way to the
kitchen, where his wife was about to make fire.

“Have you seen a winnower anywhere in the house?” he asked with a raised voice, his hands pulling up
the rag of a pair of trouser which was threatening to fall from his loins. “It is the one that has bought
this flour,” answered Nansani curtly, pointing at a mound of flour in a basin. “What did you say? My
winnower has bought…”
“We ran out of flour a week ago. Since the only thing you know is to immerse your time and money in
the calabash of beer, I have taken the winnower and exchanged it with flour at the Tinkanenas. My
children should not die of hunger as if their father has no weaving skills.” “Ha,” laughed the man
bitterly. “Should your children be the reason I fail to quench the pangs of a hangover? Why is it that
flour does not last in this house?

“Do not make me laugh! How can flour last with the whole team you have fathered? Was I not telling
you that we should plan our family? It is because you have no money to fund your morning drinking
spices that you realize flour does not last…?”

Changa Ndamanga did not wait for his wife to continue showering him with insults. He had paid fat
cows and large sums of money to convince her parents that he was the right man to be their son-in-law.
He remembered the struggles he had faced in South Africa where he had gone to look for work after
Nansani’s parents had humiliated him, then publicly rejected his offer to marry her. Was it worthless
that he had spent days sleeping in gutters, or wading through waste dumping sites in a strange land just
to get metal scraps to sell for the sole purpose of proving to her folks that he was man enough?

Ugly thoughts toiled with Changa’s mind. His heart was gripped with a volcano of anger. As if
possessed, he charged at Nansani, reached for her neck and squeezed with his left hand. With his right
hand, released a few blows that felt like a sting of a cobra on Nansani’s cheek…

The whole village of Muzimverana gathered at Changa Ndamanga’s homestead when news spread that
Ndamanga’s twelve children had helped their mother to clobber him until he fainted. As one by one,
the villagers reached the scene, they could not fail to wonder at the twigs and broken three branches
which the children had used to punish their father strewn on the bwalo. Changa’s red eyes welled with
tears due to the pain that coursed through his body. As he looked around at the people in whose eyes
were pictures of accusation, an army of shame invaded his manliness. Deep down his heart, he conceded
that it did not help to be fool hardy. If he had listened to his wife’s pleas that they bear a few children,
he could have had a manageable family. These could have been sufficient food and financial resources
to support the family and extra cash for buying liquor at Mayi Chindipha. Indeed, family planning could
have saved him from fathering the bandits who had drawn wounds on his body and made him the
laughing stock of the entire village. As people of Muzimverana village were about to return to their
homes, Changa Ndamanga opened his mouth and spoke.

Page 22 of 35
‘Some of you think that I am bitter with my wife and children for what has happened. Wait and listen.
You may go with half-truth… all this time I’ve been thinking that these issues about family planning
are for foolish men who are controlled by their women. But what has happened to me today has taught
me that men like me need to be responsible and encourage women to go for family planning.”

Although many people laughed as Changa Ndamanga was speaking; others, particularly the men,
agreed with him. And within that week, reproductive health officers at Muzimverana clinic were
overwhelmed by numbers of men who escorted their women to seek reproductive health and family
planning services.

Questions
a) In what point of view is the story told?
___________________________________________________________________________
(1 mark)
b) Describe the geographical setting of the story.
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
c) The author uses flashback in the story. Give one example.
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
d) Describe the character portrayed by each of the following:
i. Changa Ndamanga:
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
ii. Nansani:
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
e) Apart from the theme of “poverty,” explain any other two themes that are portrayed in the
story.
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(4 marks)
f) Briefly explain how Changa Ndamanga is portrayed as a Round character.
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)

THE DEADLY SPEAR by Mike Sambalikagwa Mvona

Nachawe had no alternative but to go back home. His failing to get back would plunge his clan and
indeed the entire village of Likhula into chaos. After his father, it was he who could patch up things

Page 23 of 35
together. The letter had said so. Although he was not the first born in his father's family, who also
happened to be village headman Likhula, Nachawe was considered an automatic heir to the throne.

This brought jealousy from his brothers. Although no one talked to him openly. Nachawe knew his life
was at stake. There was anger and tension generated from all corners of the family. That is why, without
telling anyone, even his father and mother, he fled to South Africa. He never wrote any letter to tell
them where he was or what he was doing.

Nachawe settled fast in this foreign country. He received rapid promotions on his job with a mining
company. He then married a woman from there, a Sotho by tribe. All was well for him and his family
and he forgot about his home. He forgot about the miseries of his home village and the hatred of his
brothers.

As time went by, he began to see his father in his dreams asking him why he had left home without a
word. Nachawe struggled to make a decision. He gathered courage and wrote his parents telling them
where he was and the job he was doing.

Two months passed and then he got a letter in reply to his. His parents told him how they celebrated
when they received his letter. They brew beer and cooked to celebrate that he was still alive. However,
none of the letters mentioned about his wife though he had introduced her in his letter. He knew that by
the customs of Likhula, no one was allowed to marry outside his village let alone another country. By
the customs of his village, he was a traitor.

Nachawe felt that no one had the right to dictate his life. Actually, this is one of the reasons that made
him leave his village in the first instance. He wanted to be left alone and live in peace. If it were not for
the appearance of his father in his dreams he would not have written home.

Time passed on very fast. He had been promoted several times again and was now in an administrative
post at the company headquarters. He was very successful. They had three children with his wife. He
began to think how he could take all this wealth and his children back to his home country and village.
He did not want to have a part of his father’s wealth.

As he was thinking of going back home, he received another letter from his father. This time his father
asked him to return home for he had little time to live. He informed him to share the worth with his
brothers and sisters that he will live behind. ‘My son dig at the far right hand corner of my private hut.
You will find two stacked money that you will share with you siblings and mother,” read part of the
letter.

Nachawe had no choice but leave for home. Not to inherit wealth of his father but to receive his father’s
last blessings and show him the grand children he had produced. He picked up his belongings and
together with his first son, he started home in his car.

After three days of driving, he was at the border and after the border formalities, he was heading to
Likhula. He drove his automatic BMW as people on foot waved at him though they didn’t know him.
Children stopped to see such a beautiful car they had never seen before. They marveled.

Eventually, he pulled up at his father’s house and the crowd that was gathered there gave him room for
the car. Men wore somber faces and inside Likhula’s house crying could be heard. “Could he be dead,”
he dreaded, “but when?” There was excitement and his people gathered around his car to see who this
important person had come to a funeral in their village. “It’s Mbwiye,” some whispered immediately
they recognized him. ‘Mbwiye Nachawe,” some sobbed as others cried loudly. He was taken to the
Chief’s private house where his father lay dead. The young man grieved uncontrollably. Then, his aunt
told him that his father had died of asthma and had always wished to talk to Mbwiye before his death.

Page 24 of 35
A spear and a shield were given to Nachawe to signify that he is the heir. The youthful member of the
group was asked to go and beat a drum to show they were ready for burial rites. There was ululating as
the mjiri dance started. It was the custom of the village that mjiri dance had to be performed whenever
the Chief’s body is being buried. This was to mark the exit of the old chief and entry of the new one.
The new chief would lead the procession to the grave yard. Before the coffin was taken out, a horn
would be sounded from the top of Muleya hill and at the sound, all dancers would throw the spears in
the air.

The horn was sounded and a loud shout went forth as the spears went up in all directions. Nachawe
noticed that some spears could not go up, but it was too late. In the twinkling of an eye, the spear landed
on him and it dug deeply. Nachawe screamed and sprawled on the ground. The spear had come from
the hand of his brother. The women tore on themselves as men tried to save the situation. He was taken
inside the house where he was pronounced dead.

After the burial of the two chiefs without the accompaniment of mjiri dance, the elder brother searched
through the luggage of his brother for any valuables. He didn’t find any excerpt the letter the father
wrote Nachiwe. It was not explaining where the money was. He felt depressed and hopeless and wished
he had not killed him.

Questions
a) Describe the geographical setting of the story?
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
b) Identify the following from the story:
i. Antagonist:
____________________________________________________________________
(1 mark)
ii. Climax of the story:
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________
(1 mark)
iii. The external conflict in the story:
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________
(1 mark)
c) Describe the character portrayed by each of the following:
i. Nachawe
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
ii. Nachawe’s elder brother
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
d) Identify any one theme portrayed in the story. Give evidence.
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)

Page 25 of 35
 e) In what point of view is the story told? Justify.
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
f) Why did Nachawe free to South Africa?
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)

HIDDEN TREASURE
I cannot disguise my hatred for him. He wasted 10 years in the south working for a white man but never
remembered us. Surely, it is true what people say in this village that he wasted his money and energy
on the Zulu women, for he came back poor and tired.
Grandpa left home when I was a little brat. He sojourned the foreign land with hope of transforming the
compound.

“I left home to change home,” his letters always had that catchy phrase. We believed him but time was
running short. All his colleagues were sending chubby amounts of money for their families. But
Grandpa always said he was saving for the family. What I hated the most was the lie that he was saving
for me.

Three rains ago, he came back home. I asked him about my savings but he never gave me a decent
response. He simply said he would make the funds available when I finish my secondary school
education. He asked me to seek wisdom and not money. But I am not King Solomon.

One day, I went to the garden with a hoe. My sister Rhudo cooked some kind of relish that I detested
so I thought of hunting for some mice. I went straight to Grandpa’s garden. I was terrified of the idea
of digging mice in a stranger’s garden. Rumours were strife about children who disappeared
mysteriously in other people’s gardens. Dead people came back to life in form of some wild animal and
hunted down children to take them to the dark world underground.

I started digging under the only mango tree in the field. I had noticed some marks of mice footprints
thereabout. The cruel sun of that afternoon seemed to be mocking me with its unusual temperature.
Suddenly, I hit a wooden box which seemed a bit worn out. It was covered in four thick plastic bags to
preserve it from weather and termites. At first, I was afraid. I thought some cruel people had placed
nyanga in Grandpa’s garden, probably to bewitch him and confuse him. No wonder he never took good
care of us.

After a lengthy period of reflection, I took heart and resolutely made a decision to open the box. I tore
the four covers and found out that the box had a lock. A very serious looking lock. I recognized the lock
because it was the same make which Grandpa brought from the south and he used it to secure kraals of
goats.

I smashed the box with the hoe and unboxed the contents. I did not believe my eyes at first. I pinched
myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. I even slapped myself and I was fully sure that I was fully
awake. The box had lots of money. Lots and lots of money in foreign currency.

“So, Grandpa thought of hiding the money from us? I am always struggling in school and he hid the
money from us? Does he know that being in form four means I need to have lots of pocket money?”
these thoughts raced in my mind for several minutes. Then I thought of teaching him a lesson. A lesson
he would remember for the rest of his short life remaining.

Page 26 of 35
 “I will change the money into local currency bit by bit. I will use all this money. After all Grandpa is
sick and is always asleep. He won’t notice my new lifestyle,” I reassured myself.

That is how I started drinking and having multiple partners. I used to drink in expensive bars and took
girls to expensive hotels. I was the new king on the campus. I did not care that I was in term three of
form four. The term to decide my fate in academics. All I cared about was having fun and proving to
be the richest and coolest kid on the campus. I wrote my final exams and went back home. But I never
went home to be specific. I was in town finishing off the money with my newly found friends. We hired
cool vehicles and visited places rich people go to. “This is living,” I thought with utmost satisfaction.

Coincidentally, the money ran out around the same time when national examination results were out. I
failed embarrassingly. I will not lie that I was shocked. I knew exactly what was coming for me. I went
back in the village, empty handed. Poor and tired. The very same day I reached home was the day
Grandpa became very sick with old age. He had lost too much weight, looking at him one would think
he saw a pencil on the bed. He called all of us into his hut. “My Grandson, I have heard that you haven’t
done very well in national examinations. I have also heard that you haven’t been at home ever since
you wrote your exams. I am disappointed but I know life must go on. I am very sick and I will join my
ancestors any time. Since you have failed exams, you need to start a business to support yourself and
your relatives. I kept enough money for this family,” he struggled to utter the words. “Where is the
money?” I queried impatiently.

“My grandson, go in my garden and dig under the only mango tree. You will find a wooden box covered
in four plastics. I kept around four million kwacha in that box if you exchange the currency. Please use
the money wisely to change this home,” he said the words and breathed his last.

Questions
1) Describe the geographical setting of the story?
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
2) From what point of view is the story told?
___________________________________________________________________________
(1 mark)
3) Why is the narrator reluctant to open the box?
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
4) Describe the character of the following
(i) Grandpa
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
(ii) The narrator
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
5) How has suspense been created in the short story?
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)

Page 27 of 35
 6) State the figures of speech portrayed by the following phrases
(i) cruel sun
___________________________________________________________________________
(1 mark)
(ii) a pencil on the bed
___________________________________________________________________________
(1 mark)
7) Explain one theme from the short story.
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)

BLOODY PUMPKIN by Foster Benjamin

The April night became unusually quiet. No dogs barked in the vicinity, no owls even hooted in the
darkness enveloping Makaula Village. In the deepening silence, at the dark corner of his pumpkin
garden, Makontena stood watching and listening. Beside him lay his shimmering panga knife.

Not long ago, while barefooted and grotesquely dressed, he had been patrolling the garden in quite of a
human enemy. No enemy, however, stumbled in his way. Still, Makontena lingered on. Of course, he
had enough of it. Makontena was ready to act without mercy. How dare could they steal his pumpkins,
his very life depended upon the pumpkins. And he loved them more than anything else. More than his
own wife, Nachanza! Nachanza!

Immediately he spat in disgust. If there was anyone, whom he detested tonight, other than the thief, it
was Nachanza, the initiator of the quarrel, the one who had turned cold on him as if he were not her
husband. He recalled how he and his wife had bitterly fallen out. “You mustn’t go out patrolling
Abambo,” Nachanza had pleaded while breast feeding her wailing baby

“No, I must go!”Makontena had snapped back, brandishing a panga in one hand and a torch in the other.
“How dare you want to sleep out while the baby is critically ill? You must stay and help me look after
the baby!” she had admonished amidst gathering sobs.
Silence!

“Am I speaking to a wall or a dead wood, Abambo a Puna?”

“Shut up, you talkative maize mill!” thundered Makontena, his eyes gleaming in the lamplight,
“continue spitting out flies from your toilet of your mouth and you’ll soon regret it! Will your gluttonous
mouth not starve if all pumpkins are stolen, you good-for nothing woman?”

For a moment Nachanza had fallen silent, thinking of what to say next. Fear had just overwhelmed her.
At last she had just found her voice. “Which is more important, your pumpkins or Puna’s life? Have
you lost your senses?”

“Nacha! You-are-scratching-on-my-baldhead!” Makontena, his anger rising, had stammered. “You’ll

see what my second wife, Abengo, saw if you continue this argument, you husband snatcher!” In that
instant he had unleashed a full frontal blow, which had sent Nachanza and her sick baby crushing against
the wall. She and her baby had all broken into heartrending wailing while Makontena stormed out into
the chilly night.

That was what Makontena was all about. Whenever he picked a quarrel with his wives-which he always
picked only at a slightest mistake, he would never hesitate settling it in blows and kicks. Nachanza had
lost several teeth on such confrontations.

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A faint sound suddenly jerked Makontena out of his reverie. He stood alert, his panga knife at the ready.
The sound died down immediately. It fascinated him. What was it? A thief? He was not sure. As he
peered through the darkness, he noticed something standing a few feet away. He focussed his eyes quite
intently. He held his breath while gripping his weapon tight. His hour had just struck. His waiting was
now over.

Soon he began walking on tiptoe. He must catch the thief by surprise. All of a sudden, Makontena
stopped dead just as he had ruffled dry grass. The rascal might have heard him approaching. Makontena,
panga still in hand, started crawling towards the unsuspecting pumpkin thief. Drawing closer, he jumped
and hacked the thief on the head. A metallic sound ensued and Makontena fell under the impact.
Astonishment crept into Makontena’s heart.

His eyes fell upon the tree-stump. He had stabbed the stump thinking it was a thief. What a fool! He
cursed himself. It suddenly occurred to him that the stump was a thief incarnate. Of course the magical
crook had turned himself into a stump. He remembered how tales of magic thieves had abounded in
those days. “Ha! He can’t cheat me, I’ve seen so many rains-red, green and dark rains and he’s just
chasing at his own shadow!” Makontena thought to himself.

Turning away from the thief-turned-stump, he stripped himself naked and soon started urinating on the
blade of his panga. As he was peeping, he was uttering some incantations. Certainly, he could not be
outwitted. He must deal with the magic thief, once and for all.

With his might, Makontena struck the thief again. It startled him even more as the heavy metallic roar
sliced through the night. The thief didn’t utter a death-cry as he had expected. The next moment
Makontena laughed to himself. It had just dawned on him that the stump had been there since time
immemorial. He cursed at his own amnesia.

As foolish as he were, he retraced his steps and resumed hiding. Soon his patience was wearing thin.
His eyes were hurting from lack of sleep. The cold was too unbearable. All the same, he could not
despair. Very soon the thief would be stealing into his garden. He glanced at his watch and it ticked
midnight. Thieves always stir around midnight.

A tread of footsteps instantly awoke him from falling asleep. He rubbed his eyes rapidly to make sure
he was not dreaming. Yes, he was not seeing things. Unmistakable human footsteps really echoed past
him as he was still lurking among the thick pumpkin leaves.
Gripping his panga, Makontena walked as silently as he could like a cat stalking a mouse. He could
now see the figure standing by the edge of his garden. What was he up to? Hatching a strategy to steal?
Uneasy questions flooded over his mind.

He could now see himself killing the rascal. Then he would bury him right in his garden where he would
decompose and become manure. How he would triumph over a bumper harvest!
With this morbid thought Makontena edged closer, silent and deadly. With a mighty roar, he stabbed
the thief with such a savage force. Uttering a death-cry, the thief slumped to the ground. He could see
him writhing violently. Makontena’s teeth began chattering.

A sudden curiosity had taken over him. He had to identify the enemy he had stabbed. As he was bending
over the body, that was gasping its last, Makontena, all of a sudden, could not believe his eyes. He
looked again at the dying man. He began trembling as if he was shaking from the vividness of the
nightmare. “Oooh! No! Nakari! Nakari!” Makontena cried out, calling his brother who was slowly
dying. The dying brother gasped faintly that Makontena had difficulties to hear what the man was
saying. “I came-to-tell-you-that-your-baby is dead and eeeeh,” he breathed his last.

“Nakari! My brother! My baby! Am I to live to face this cruel world?” Makontena wailed aloud. He
was really longing for death. It was quiet revolting to imagine himself alive. For a split second, he

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plucked the knife from Nakari’s side and drove it into his own belly. His yelling immediately awoke
villagers from their peaceful slumber. Horrified, the villagers carried the bloodied brothers’ home
amidst mystery and grief.

Questions
1. In what point of view is the story told?
___________________________________________________________________________
(1 mark)
2. What is the geographical setting of the story? Justify your answer.
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
3. Describe one character of Makontena.
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
4. Discuss any one theme from this short story.
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
5. How does the title relate to the short story?
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
6. What is the mood of the story? Justify your answer.
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
7. “The evil that people do lives after them.” How does this proverb relate to the short story?
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
8. Explain any one external conflict that Makontena faces in the story.
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(1 mark)

THE WITCH

It was after several days that the gong –gong was beaten in the late afternoon and the whole town
was called to assemble outside the chief’s house. The crowd was large and I climbed up very high
in the tree and seated in the swaying braches; I watched the whole scene. The chief emerged. He
was a middle aged man dressed in glowing kense cloth, gold crown on his head and sandals. He
was accompanied by his horn blower and interpreter bearing his staff of office and the elder of the
town. A small boy of my own age carried the royal stool and another walked in front of the chief
acknowledging on his behalf the greetings from the crowd. The chief and his party sat down.

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 Then came the chief priest, tall naked to waist and his assistants. Some of these were children too.
Little girls in white skirts and their bodies smeared with white clay and covered with strings of
white cowrie shells.

Another group then came from the chief’s house and in the centre of it were three women. Their
clothes were torn and they stumbled and wept. Obviously they had been roughly treated. Two were
old and ugly. The other was about my mother’s age plump and comely. They were the occupants
of Toni’s coffin house. They all denied that they had killed the girl. The crowd began to jeer them
and threaten them. A few stones were thrown but the chief ordered the people to be still.

Three cocks were brought and given to the priest’s assistants. The first old lady was brought before
the chief and warned to speak the truth or the god would surely kill her. She threw herself on their
knees and swear that she was not guilty. A sharp knife cut the cock’s throat half way across. Then
he threw it on the ground. A mid a breathless silence the cock struggled to its feet, ran a few steps,
collapsed and died on its back, its breast uppermost. The crowd roared. The god had accepted the
woman’s answer. She had spoken the truth. She was innocent and free. She fell sobbing on the
ground until he came and helped her to her feet.

The second old woman was brought forward. She denied that she was a witch and some ritual
followed. Her cock too died on its back and the god acknowledged her innocence.The crowd grew
restless as the third woman was brought forward. An angry muttering prevented me from hearing
what the woman answered. The priest took the cock in his hand but then paused and in a loud and
stern voice, which silenced the crowd, cried “take care woman with what you do! If you are guilty,
the gods will surely reveal it by killing you?” The woman stood upright and looked proud and
defiant. The priest took up his knife but before he had time to use it the woman fell to the ground
her limbs twitching and foam coming from their mouth. The crowd roared. The priest put down the
knife and let the cock flutter away. Then trembling, she confessed that she was a witch. There she
was strongly advised by the priest to confess all her crimes.

Questions
a. Describe the geographical setting of the story; justify.
______________________________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
b. Describe the characters portrayed by each of the following;
i. The crowd
_________________________________________________________________________
_________________________________________________________________________
_________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
ii. The chief priest
_________________________________________________________________________
_________________________________________________________________________
_________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)

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c. From what point of view is the story being told?
_____________________________________________________________________________
(1mark)

d. Explain any two themes that are portrayed in the story.

______________________________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________________________________
(4marks)
e. What evidence shows that the chief is greatly respected?
______________________________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________________________________
(2marks)
f. Describe the poetic justice in the story?
______________________________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________________________________
(2marks)

ALEX THE SAVIOUR (MSCE 2020)

As with many girls in my area, my schooling ended midway through high school. There were not
adequate resources to see me go through my school. Born in a family of seven, four boys and three
girls, there was no way that my parents could afford to put all of us through high school. Not based on
any merit or logic, my parents made the decision that only boys would go through with education. My
society regarded the boy child as superior to the girl child. After all the boy child would carry the name
of the family and therefore deserves preferential treatment.
Had patriarchy not ruled, I remain adamant that my sisters and I would do well at school just like our
brothers. My and sisters and I turned to farming though not much came out of it. I fell pregnant by a
man who, contrary to all promises of marriage and bliss, reneged on all and deserted me. I became a
single mother. that only served to double mu financial burden.
One Christmas holiday, Lindiwe came from the city to visit her parents. Seeing how miserable I was,
she invited me to try my luck in a bigger city. Where could I get the courage to turn down that irresistible
offer? I moved to Kabula. The gamble seemed to pay off a bit. We ate better, clothed better and were
entertained better.
While staying in Kabula, I bumped into another person who would change my life. Alex told me how
young Malawian women were trekking to South Africa. Two challenges stood in the way of my
potential realization of the dream. First, I had no passport, and second, my finances were inadequate to
go to South Africa. Alex arranges with a truck who ferried me to South Africa and I had to pay him
K100,000.00 in five instalments once I found a job. Alex had already talked to his sister in South Africa
to take good care of me.
A vehicle that picked me up after arriving in South Africa was driven by a man accompanied by a
woman who was later introduced to me as Thando. After resting for a week, Thando indicated that it
was time that I met people that would organise work for me in the city.

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I have to admit that I was hit by a culture shock. We went around the different parts of the city with
affluent people who absolutely spoilt us. My host, Thando, insisted that I start so as to blend in well
with our hosts. Out of respect for her brother Alex back home, I obliged. The following Friday, Thando,
introduced me to a man I was supposed to “entertain” that night. That is where it all began. I was
introduced to several men. There it was. I was not employed in one of the many South African
households that most people from my country worked in. I was employed by Thando in the capacity of
entertaining totally strange men for a fee for both my keeper and I.
As they say, time is a thief. One minute I was alive with a dream to conquer the world. The next minute
here I was disheartened. This was the opportunity in South Africa that Alex was talking about when he
sold me the “South African dream”.
Questions
a. Describe the mood of the story.
_________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
b. Describe the character portrayed by each of the following:
(i). the narrator
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
(ii). Thando
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
c. In what point of view is the story told?
___________________________________________________________________________
(1 mark)
d. Explain how the following themes have been portrayed in the story.
(i). male chauvinism
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
(ii). disillusionment
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
e. How ironical is the title of the story?
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
f. Show how poverty brought misery to the narrator.
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)

Page 33 of 35
 MY STRUGGLE (MSCE 2022)
It all began when my father had decided to leave my mother for a woman from a neighbouring township.
No explanation had been given on how he would take care of us as he permanently left us in a rented
house. To make matters worse, we had three months of unpaid rentals. This left my mother with no
choice but to sell some of our possessions to pay off the rent before moving into a cheaper house.

The unpaid rentals were not her only problem. I had been recently selected to Mbwabwa Community
Day Secondary School to the surprise of many. They said I was more deserving of a boarding school
than most of my classmates who had made it to various boarding secondary schools.

Going to Mbwabwa was a blessing in disguise. There was no way my mother could afford boarding
school fees. The money that remained after the sale of our ragged property was only enough for food
items for a few days and my school fees. This meant that I would start school without uniform and other
necessities.

I struggled for the whole of Form one. Chances of me going to the next class were very thin. I was not
allowed to write examinations which made repeat.

My mother’s constant lack of money deprived the family more as she always owed a lot of people. She
had so many debts. Despite her financial challenges, my mother deemed it worthwhile to see her elder
sister go further with her education. She was working nonstop. Moving from one household to another,
washing and cleaning made her hands sore every day.

The money she made was not much; however, it was enough to make part payment for my school fees.
The raising of school fees did not help matters. I was prohibited from attending classes due to
accumulated fees balances. I was stressed and devastated. My mother’s calmness and ease bothered me
that I felt she did not care about my education anymore.

I later learnt that during one of the community meetings, she diligently participated in, she had spoken
to the Project Officer of Zathu Zomwe, a non-governmental organization focusing on girls’ education.
The Programs Officer promised to look into my situation.

Tired of just staying at home, I decided to sneak into the classroom so that I could learn a little bit. I
had no idea who had reported me to the school authorities because during break, I was called to the
head teacher’s office. Afraid of being flushed out of class, I prepared my mind of apologetic statements.
When I got into the office, the head teacher introduced me to a young woman, Ms Mtendere.
Apparently, she was the Programs Officer for Zathu Zomwe. She confirmed that her organization would
pay my school fees and that they would also be responsible for all academic necessities all the way to
college. She had one demand from me, “Work hard and make me proud.”

Questions
a. Describe the mood of the story
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
b. Identify the narrator of the story
___________________________________________________________________________
(1 mark)
c. (i). What is the geographical setting of the story?
___________________________________________________________________________
(1 mark)

Page 34 of 35
 (ii). Justify your answer in c (i)
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(1 mark)
d. Describe the character portrayed by each of the following
(i). the mother
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
(ii). the project officer
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)
e. Explain any two themes portrayed in the story
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(4 marks)
f. In what way is the narrator passionate about education?
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________
(2 marks)

THE END

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