All That It Ever Meant is an outstanding YA novel of family love, loss, and life lived between two cultures, by Blessing Musariri, an astonishing new voice.

Read on for an extract.

ABOUT THE BOOK

‘I’m going to tell you exactly how everything happened. Baba always says, Mati mwana’ngu, I love a good story but I don’t have time for a long one, so make it short.’

When Mati and her two siblings travel from London to Zimbabwe with their father, they are forced to confront the knotty family dynamics caused by the loss of their mother. Along for the trip is Meticais, a fabulously attired gender-neutral spirit-or ghost? or imaginary friend?-who only Mati can see and talk to.

Guided by Meticais’s enigmatic advice and wisdom, Mati must come to terms with her grief and with the difficulty of a life lived between two cultures, while her family learn to forge their way in a world without their monumental mother. This is distinctive, stylish, powerful writing by a vital new voice.

EXTRACT

CHAPTER TWO

I’M going to tell you exactly how everything happened. Baba always says, Mati mwana’ngu, I love a good story but I don’t have time for a long one, so make it short. When I was three, I used to tell people that my name was Matiponesa Mwana’ngu Mufanani. Mama and Baba used to laugh their heads off. Of course, it turns out, mwana’angu is what you say to your child to let them know they’re yours and you love them but you don’t want to hear a long story, or you want to sweeten them up to pass you the remote or get you a glass of water, even though you could do it yourself. ‘Matiponesa, my child, I’m in a hurry so make it quick.’

Some stories can’t be ‘made quick’ because you wouldn’t even want to tell them if you didn’t have to, so you start with the things that are easy, like, how it was in our house. I’ll start with Chichi. Chichi will tell you all about music, remixes, mixed tapes, long play, ee pees, studio time ee tee cee ee tee cee. She’s going to be discovered any day now and go and be in a girl group. Tana is her biggest fan, but to be honest I think he’s just scared of her. She’s a mixed bag and you’ve always just got to be ready for what you’ll get – there’s no putting your hand in to look for the one you like, on any day, you get what you get and that’s that. On some days you can get more than you would really want, ever.

Normally I might tell you that Mama was arguing with Chichi about rolling up her skirt at the waist to make a mini of her school uniform, and calling Tana down for almost the tenth time – she always says, I’ve called you almost ten times now, COME. DOWN. NOW! The last three words are always big letters, it’s like you can see them come barking out and up the stairs to bump, smack-dab into Tanatswa. You can talk to Tanatswa all you like in capital letters, it’s all the same to him if you’re Mama or Baba and sometimes me, he will do what you ask when he feels like it and not one second before. If you’re Chichi, you can give him your lunch bag as we go in to school and tell him to hold on to it for you until lunchtime but not to look inside and he would hear every word the first time and know that it’s probably more than better for him to look as soon as he can.

This kind of normal ended for us months ago. It was break time when the Head sent messages to come to his office without delay. Auntie Monica was waiting for us. It made no sense, she’d never picked us up before and certainly we’d never had to go home before time unless one of us was sick. All present were in good health so what was Auntie Monica doing in our lives, out of step?

‘What’s happened? Why are you here, Auntie?’ Chichi doesn’t chew her words, especially when things are out of kilter.

‘Your father asked me to pick you up, we need to go home.’

‘Why? What’s happened?’ Chichi doesn’t just do things because you tell her to, Auntie Monica knows this but that day, she wouldn’t have been able to tell you if it was wet or dry outside, she was there in body and that was it. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, saying nothing. Chichi backed away from her shaking her head. ‘No! No! No! No!’ she said, waiting for Auntie to say it was okay. But it wasn’t. Me and Tana, we were statues, we had done the math. Maybe if we said nothing, if we stayed perfectly still, things would right themselves again.

At home, we went from room to room looking for her – Chichi thundering through doors and cupboards – as if she would find Mama hiding in a chest of drawers any minute, saying how it was just a prank, me and Tana in her wake, a wide-eyed, breathless tail, fear floating behind us like a superhero cape and some far-away high sound in my ears. Everything was in its place but nothing was right. There was a letter from Mama on the kitchen table – maybe it was going to explain everything. Baba walked in like a thing made of glass holding her handbag, splattered with blood. Chichi yelled at him, ‘Where is she? Where is Mum?’ then crumpled to the floor at his feet. ‘Dad!’ she said, ‘Dad!’ and wailed and wailed. Next to me Tana stopped breathing. All the way from school I had felt his little body suspended in the high hope that his world had not just shifted on its axis and when that hope dissolved he closed his eyes and let his body drop. No one needs this level of reality in their lives. No one.

When someone dies, it’s the death of everything the way you knew it. The Death stains everything and there’s no washing it out. I was struck dumb. Nothing was real to me anymore.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Blessing Musariri is an award-winning author of short stories, children’s stories, radio and screenplays, and contemporary adult fiction. Her work has also been published by the Guardian, Granta, and Poetry International. Blessing lives in Harare, Zimbabwe.