Introducing Andrew Chatora's essays on Literature

Unstoppable March of the Human Condition Book Review 

Author: Andrew Chatora 

Published: 2026 

Publisher: Friesian Publishing - London 

Genre: Literary Essay Collection 

Reviewer: Nicole Kurebwaseka 

I recently had the chance to read a new book in the offing: Unstoppable March of the Human Condition, by UK based Zimbabwean writer Andrew Chatora. Unstoppable March of the Human Condition is a collection of creative nonfiction essays exploring politics, literature, migration, race and identity. Rooted in Zimbabwean and British experience, it asks how individuals navigate power, displacement and belonging while holding on to dignity and their sense of self. 

Unstoppable March of the Human Condition introduced me to writers, activists and thinkers who have used their voices and their work to challenge the world around them. I learned about Chatora’s heroes such as James Baldwin, Yvonne Vera, Stanlake Samkange and Edgar Tekere among others, and, as if that wasn't enough, I walked away with a long list of books I now want to read! 

But more than anything, this book made me think about why we write, who we write for, and what we owe to the communities we come from. 

One of the things Chatora explores is his experience living in the diaspora and the difficulties that come with being a Black English teacher to the English, as well as being an African writer. 

He quotes Damon Galgut: “Only when Britain has validated your achievement will you be taken seriously.” 

That sentence took me somewhere unexpected. It made me think about how I once visualised my own first book. I wanted it to be something that would be accepted globally. And when I really sat with that thought, I realised how sad it was that I wanted validation from the outside more than I wanted to be accepted by my own people. 

This poignantly pushed me into a self-reflective mode that; why is it that we sometimes believe that something becomes valuable only after the rest of the world approves of it? 

Through his mesmerizing literary essay collection, Chatora also shares the kind of writing environment he wishes to see, one where published work opens conversations about the issues that matter to us. I will confess, I am one of those people who craves more romantic stories from African authors. 

Give me all the African love stories! 

But this book reminded me that our stories are more than entertainment. They are part of our DNA. Our history, our culture, our traditions and our struggles are preserved through the stories we tell. And if we don't tell them, who will tell them on our behalf? 

In the essay “Who Needs a Writer? More to Writing Than Dollars and Cents”, Chatora explores the value of writing beyond financial gain. 

He quotes Arthur Miller: “Do not be beguiled into thinking that that which is without profit is without value.” 

I needed that reminder. As someone living in Zimbabwe, it is easy to become consumed by survival. Sometimes the crickets are too loud, nothing seems to be moving, and the things you once cared deeply about begin to feel like luxuries you can no longer afford. 

I forget that I was once passionate about certain things simply because I loved them. 

This book reminded me that not everything valuable has an immediate monetary return. 

And then came the elephant in the room: AI and the creative process. I won't sit here and pretend AI hasn't made things easier. It has. And as a blogger and book reviewer, I have immensely benefited from that convenience. One prompt can produce a full blog post in seconds. But perhaps that convenience is also the problem. 

Chatora presents an argument from Matesic (2025) about the importance of the struggle involved in writing: that writing is an art precisely because there are no shortcuts and that the process requires time, work and revision. 

And this left me with a question: If a book is going to be edited and proofread by a human anyway, is it really wrong to use AI as a proofreading tool to make that process faster? 

I'm genuinely curious about this. I understand the beauty of writing, the sitting down, thinking, struggling with a sentence until it finally says exactly what you want it to say. I understand that there are no shortcuts to creating something meaningful. 

But don't they say, work smarter, not harder? 

Perhaps there is a difference between asking AI to create your work and asking it to help you refine work you have already created. 

Then Chatora takes us into another complicated subject: exile. In the essay; “The Nowhere Man: Between Empire and Orient,” he explores the experience of living in a foreign country, including those who leave in search of greener pastures and those who are forced into exile because they challenge the status quo. 

He opens the chapter with Chenjerai Hove's poem “Identity.” 

The poem made me think about what it means to miss home when you have been away for a long time. The smells, the sounds, the madness, the laughter, the sorrow and the joy. 

But what struck me even more was the contradictions evoked. 

What about those of us who are still home but constantly dream of exile? We celebrate relatives who send money from the diaspora. We dream about the American dream. We celebrate the person who has managed to leave because, somehow, leaving has become synonymous with success. 

Providing for your family in an African country can feel like an impossible animal we are all trying to outrun. 

And yet, the people who leave often find themselves longing for the very home that those of us here are desperate to escape. Talk of a beautiful conundrum. 

Alain Mabanckou captured this contradiction beautifully when he spoke of Africans who dream of another exile while already in exile and yet when they return home they can no longer fit and yearn for exile. As Mabanckou posits; "We dream of our native land, but when we are there, we dream of going back into exile." Mabanckou’s perspective captures well the tragedy of modern exile which creates a permanent sense of exile amongst exiles. 

This made me ask: What are we building here? 

What do we want to leave behind for the next generation? 

And perhaps that is one of the biggest questions this book asks. When we write, what are we trying to say? What do we stand for? Are we simply telling stories, or are we trying to change something, one word, one reader and one conversation at a time? 

Chatora takes us into the lives of people who believed that change was possible and picked up a pen and paper in the hope of changing at least one person's rearview. 

One of the people I particularly enjoyed learning about was Stanlake Samkange and his philosophy of Hunhuism/Ubuntu. 

Chatora describes Ubuntu as a code of individual conduct rooted in kinship and communalism. It is deeply embedded in African culture and, in many ways, it is what makes us who we are. 

One idea that stayed with me was the argument that, in order to rebuild ourselves, we need to reclaim our roots. I had never really thought about change from that perspective. We often look outward for solutions. We look at systems, countries and philosophies outside ourselves and ask how we can become better. But what if some of the answers are already rooted in our own cultures? 

Ubuntu reminds us that our humanity is connected to the humanity of others. It is about fairness, kindness and community. It is also a school of thought that has been associated with South Africa's Truth and Reconciliation Commission under Archbishop Desmond Tutu, where Ubuntu was understood as an ethical foundation for healing and reconciliation. 

The Ubuntu section made me think differently about what it means to rebuild a society. 

Reading about these heroes sometimes Chatora lauds felt like sitting through a history lesson, but it was a history lesson I desperately needed. 

And then there was the late Edgar Tekere. He quickly became one of my favourites. He was unapologetic about what he believed in, and he understood what he represented. His courage made me think about what it means to stand for something when doing so comes at a cost. 

Because ultimately, this book isn't only about writers. It is about people who decided that their voices mattered. People who believed that their words could challenge systems, preserve history, question injustice and inspire somebody else to see the world differently. 

And perhaps that is why Unstoppable March of the Human Condition affected me so deeply. 

I recommend this book to young people and aspiring writers. Read it as a history lesson. Read it as a conversation about identity. Read it as a challenge to think about what you stand for. But most importantly, read it and ask yourself what you are going to do with what you've learned. 

Unstoppable March of the Human Condition is released on 3 November 2026 and available via Amazon, Barnes & Noble and in Zimbabwe Bhuku Store based in Borrowdale. 

++Reviewer Biography 

Nicole Kurebwaseka is a Zimbabwe-based book reviewer dedicated to championing African literature, self-help, romance, and thrillers. Driven by deep curiosity, she uses her platform to broaden perspectives, celebrate diverse voices, and share the enduring joy of reading.