TSITSI DANGAREMBGA: Nervous Condition
5 Either (a) In what ways is it helpful to think of Nervous Conditions as a novel about different kinds of independence? Or (b) Comment closely on the following passage, focusing on the presentation of Tambu’s early responses to Babamukuru’s household.
Feeling clean and warm and expansive, I ran Nyasha’s bath. She thanked me most graciously for this favour, and so we were able to stop quarrelling. All the same, I did not feel up to confessing that I had not known what bedclothes were, but it did not matter. Observing what Nyasha was wearing I found something similar in my suitcase.
These, then, were the bedclothes. I made my bed, folding the bedclothes neatly at its foot. When I was dressed I admired myself in the mirror. I looked better in that uniform than I had ever looked before, even though it was blue (which I now know does not suit my complexion) and had angular four-inch pleats down the front. It was a shock to see that in fact I was pretty, and also difficult to believe, making it necessary for me to scrutinise myself for a long time, from all angles and in many different positions, to verify the suspicion. Nyasha, returning from her bath, caught me at it and did not allow me to be embarrassed. Generously, sincerely, she confirmed my own impressions.
‘Not bad,’ she agreed, standing beside me to observe my reflection. ‘Not bad at all.
You’ve got a waist. One of these days you’ll have a bust. Pity about the backside,’ she continued, slapping it playfully as she turned away. ‘It’s rather large. Still, if you can look good in that old gym-dress, you’ll look good in anything.’
I was flattered by everything she said and did, the examination, the approval, the teasing. Any attention from Nyasha, who did not often attend to things other than the excursions and forays of her unpeaceful mind, was enough to make me tingle with pleasure. I came close to being infatuated with myself. Thinking back to my maize field,
I was
Feeling clean and warm and expansive, I ran Nyasha’s bath. She thanked me most graciously for this favour, and so we were able to stop quarrelling. All the same, I did not feel up to confessing that I had not known what bedclothes were, but it did not matter. Observing what Nyasha was wearing I found something similar in my suitcase.
These, then, were the bedclothes. I made my bed, folding the bedclothes neatly at its foot. When I was dressed I admired myself in the mirror. I looked better in that uniform than I had ever looked before, even though it was blue (which I now know does not suit my complexion) and had angular four-inch pleats down the front. It was a shock to see that in fact I was pretty, and also difficult to believe, making it necessary for me to scrutinise myself for a long time, from all angles and in many different positions, to verify the suspicion. Nyasha, returning from her bath, caught me at it and did not allow me to be embarrassed. Generously, sincerely, she confirmed my own impressions.
‘Not bad,’ she agreed, standing beside me to observe my reflection. ‘Not bad at all.
You’ve got a waist. One of these days you’ll have a bust. Pity about the backside,’ she continued, slapping it playfully as she turned away. ‘It’s rather large. Still, if you can look good in that old gym-dress, you’ll look good in anything.’
I was flattered by everything she said and did, the examination, the approval, the teasing. Any attention from Nyasha, who did not often attend to things other than the excursions and forays of her unpeaceful mind, was enough to make me tingle with pleasure. I came close to being infatuated with myself. Thinking back to my maize field,
I was