Cililo (Funeral) - By Genevieve Shiaka

Written By: Genevieve Shiaka

Category: Short Story

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

Genevieve Shiaka presents her compelling short story, "Cililo (Funeral)," as a participant in the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. The narrative unfolds with an intricate exploration of human emotions, societal expectations, and personal struggles. Shiaka's storytelling is deeply rooted in cultural contexts and personal introspection, inviting readers to immerse themselves in the protagonist's journey as she navigates through life’s complex realities.

About the Work

"Cililo (Funeral)" delves into the intricacies of personal suffering and societal norms, set against a backdrop of everyday life. Genevieve Shiaka skillfully crafts a narrative that is both evocative and thought-provoking, employing vivid imagery and a reflective tone. The story captures the essence of emotional turmoil, resilience, and the quiet battles faced within closed doors, making it a poignant exploration of the human condition.

Cililo (Funeral)

Original Submission by Genevieve Shiaka

CILILO

Luyando peered out through the pale yellow curtains as fresh rays of sunlight streaked across the kitchen counter. She sighed heavily as she observed the suitcases and cool boxes laid out on the worn parquet floor, silently rubbing her throbbing arm before unlocking the creaky mukwa door.

Her phone beeped, jolting her slightly as she pulled it out of her pocket. It was the usual rise-and-shine Whatsapp message posted by Auntie Janet, one of the overly optimistic Senior Youth leaders at her local parish.

It’s never too late for a new beginning in your life.

Two heart emojis popped up before she exited the group, frowning irritably as she shoved the phone back into her pocket.

She exhaled and inspected the room carefully before returning to the door.

As she made her way out to the narrow driveway, she turned off the outdoor lights and picked up a suitcase, then placed it next to the rear passenger door of the silver Toyota Allion. She returned to the house and briskly dragged the other luggage to the car in a similar fashion.

She glanced out at the deserted road through the wire fence and rummaged her front pockets for the car keys. Realisation hit her and she paced back into the house heading straight through the kitchen, past the semi-furnished lounge and down the corridor leading to the main bedroom.

She hesitated for a moment before opening the door and stepping in. She slowly ran her hands over the unkempt single bed and caught a glimpse of her morbid figure in the smashed dressing table mirror. Her hollow brown eyes stared back at her as she ran her trembling fingers through her woolly locks. She drowned in the faded navy-blue tracksuit which had once hugged her perfectly voluptuous curves; now replaced with a gaunt survivalist frame.

She eventually spotted the keys, attached to a heart shaped keyring bearing the words ‘Forever and a day’. Fighting back fresh tears, she grabbed them off the side table leaving behind her unfinished read, ‘The Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work’.

As she unlocked the wrought iron gate it swung open. Two uniformed security guards strolled past the yard, deeply engrossed in a debate on who would win the World Cup 2022 tournament; an elderly lady stood adjacent as she steadily wrapped her brightly coloured citenge around her waist, before placing a steaming bucket of freshly fried fritters on her greying crown.

Luyando glanced at her dainty gold watch then quickly retreated into the vehicle. The engine purred to life, and she navigated onto the potholed gravel road; disembarking temporarily to lock the gate before returning to the driver’s seat. She closed her eyes and muttered a brief prayer.

“Lord, please forgive me. Give me strength.”

A frantic knock on her car window interrupted her and she blinked her puffy eyes open.

“Morning!” the shrill sound of Mulenga’s chirpy voice permeated through the closed window. She stood smiling at the car door leaning to the side as she belted out her vivacious greeting. Luyando fake smiled as she waved back weakly.

Mulenga blinked at her enthusiastically, “Aren’t you going to open the door?”

Luyando shot back a questioning glance as Mulenga teetered off to the passenger’s side in ridiculously high heels. She adjusted her skintight knee-length leopard print dress as she opened the door before plonking herself into the vehicle and tossing her laptop bag onto the back seat, atop the loaded luggage.

“Eish! Sorry girl, the car is in the garage again! That’s what you get for wanting a Mercedes right?’ she chuckled disconcertingly as she fixed her lengthy weave whilst checking herself out in the rear-view mirror.

Luyando leaned back as a whiff of overpoweringly sweet perfume engulfed her.

“Isn’t it a little early for you to be going to work?”

Mulenga cleared her throat, almost whispering as she confessed, “I have a disciplinary hearing. The Boss wants me in early so that we can conclude before banking hours commence.”

Luyando paused for a moment, mentally composing herself before responding.

“I’m not heading to work,”

“With all that katundu, I figured,” Mulenga huffed, eyeing her curiously.

Luyando contemplated momentarily, before responding coolly, “I’ll drop you off at Kaunda Square.”

Mulenga squealed in delight, “Thanks! You’re a star!”

Luyando nodded in silent resolve as she gradually launched the vehicle forward.

Mulenga scrolled through her iPhone frantically typing in responses to several Whatsapp messages, before settling on her camera. She flicked her hair and pursed her lips as she pouted and posed for selfies. She tilted the phone angle as she flicked to burst mode, including Luyando in a series of photographs.

She paused at the intersection raising her hand abruptly to cover her face, “Delete them. Now please.”

“Geez! Sorry…” Mulenga lowered her phone dejectedly and placed it on her lap.

Luyando ignored her sulky demeanour as she indicated and joined the main highway.

Mulenga sighed to herself, twiddling her freshly manicured nails as she refrained from picking up the device.

“So, where are you going?”

“My mother’s village.”

“Really? In the middle of the week?”

“I have a funeral to attend,” Luyando sighed exhaustively.

“Oh, I’m so sorry… I had no idea,” Mulenga mumbled feebly, “Who passed on?”

“Somebody close to the family,”

Mulenga gazed at Luyando, finally aware of her forlorn appearance and struggled to offer adequate solace, “Well it’s nice of you to offer support and even carry some meat for the family to prepare,”

Luyando blinked at her quizzically, “Huh?”

“I can smell it,” Mulenga scrutinized the cool boxes in the back seat, “Though you better get it cooking before dark, it won’t stay fresh forever,” Luyando nodded mechanically as she focused on the road.

“Isn’t your hubby attending?”

“He’ll be there,”

“Great!” she leaned over to the back and pulled out a bright pink make-up bag from the side of her laptop bag and opened the zip briskly.

“Speaking of… how is marriage treating you? It’s been how long now? A couple of months?” she winked at Luyando naughtily as she dropped down the passenger mirror and applied mascara to her lengthy lashes.

Luyando pursed her lips steadily, “Five and a half,”

Mulenga clasped her mascara abruptly and paused for a moment, contemplating what utensil to utilize to lather herself with next.

“Surviving’” Luyando muttered quietly.

Mulenga shut the mirror and gazed at Luyando pensively, “You know, my marriage hasn’t been perfect. Even in the first few months it wasn’t great. People have this notion about what it’s supposed to be, but it never pans out according to what they say,” Mulenga sighed thoughtfully and placed her mascara back in the bag as she went on, “It’s okay to say when things aren’t okay,”

Luyando slowed down slightly as Mulenga went on, “Bashi Junior? He might as well be my first-born child,” she muttered dryly, “You’d think someone who is managing a multinational corporation at his level would be more mature but no, not at all! He always wants something new to eat though he never knows what to actually choose, he leaves things lying around constantly, he’s unrelenting when we have arguments no matter how ridiculous his opinion is, he has no patience whatsoever… and why can’t he ever find anything?!”

Luyando chuckled lightly as she listened to her neighbour’s rant. Mulenga joined in, giggling as she went on, “Let me not even get started on how lazy he gets when it comes to house chores! The only place where he has endless energy is the bedroom!” she rolled her eyes dramatically, “I tell you, this ‘ukushipikisha’ nonsense has really messed us up!”

Luyando paused abruptly and took a deep breath, retaining her seriousness as she refocused on the road ahead. Mulenga quietened down as she noticed Luyando’s emotive retreat yet felt a sense of accomplishment for the brief comic relief.

They sat in communal silence as they drove past the myriad of stores, restaurants, banks, and government offices. All securely locked or bolted shut in anticipation of the trading day ahead.

Mulenga leaned back and peered at her sympathetically, “If it wasn’t for my husband, I would have intervened,”

Luyando halted as the traffic lights shifted from amber to red.

“I used to hear the shouting and screaming, the furniture being thrown around, the glass shattering… all hours of the night,” she shrugged shyly, “I’m a light sleeper’”

Luyando gulped and turned to face Mulenga ashamedly.

“I should have come, at least even once. I kept begging my husband to step in but all he would say was that we’re not supposed to,” Mulenga sighed in frustration as she rambled on, “Sometimes I would walk out, determined to come and knock on your door, then he would drag me back and we would start a fight!”

Luyando gripped the steering wheel tightly as the light turned green and she accelerated forward steadily.

“I hate that they are allowed to do whatever they want, just because they paid lobola. It’s ridiculous!” Mulenga raised her hands in apparent disdain clapping them together energetically, “It’s not right,” she shook her head in dismay.

Luyando shook her head guiltily, “I’m sorry that my problems caused you problems,”

Mulenga glared at her in utter confusion, “Are you serious right now? What are you apologizing for? It’s not your fault!”

Luyando retreated into her memory, mentally replaying the last argument she had with her husband as Mulenga launched into a speech on women’s rights and GBV statute. She shook her head briskly, as though doing so could eliminate the atrocious altercation, attempting to pay attention to her opinionated passenger.

“But then it stopped… what caused that?” Mulenga paused as she awaited a response. Luyando glanced at her inquisitively as she reiterated her query, “You guys have had silent nights for the past few days,” Mulenga smiled in relief, “What changed?”

A tsunami of emotions immersed Luyando and she stubbornly fought to compose herself as she whispered shakily, “I did,”

Mulenga squinted slightly in an attempt to understand the underlying message.

Luyando stared ahead bleakly as she simplified her statement, “I cooked his favourite meal… chicken.”

Mulenga chuckled lightly, “Wow, I wish it were that easy for my husband and I,” she proceeded to apply some lip gloss as they approached the CBD area. Traffic had picked up slightly and a handful of pedestrians were making their way to various destinations.

As they approached the concrete parking lot, Mulenga reached back for her laptop bag and pulled it to the front seat, placing her make-up bag back inside. She glanced at Luyando thoughtfully as the vehicle came to a halt, “I never said this before, but I should have… I’m sorry about your baby. It happened to us twice before Junior came along; I can’t say I know exactly how you feel but I just want you to know that there is still hope for your future,”

Luyando was taken aback as Mulenga reached in spontaneously giving her a tight hug before pulling away gently. She opened the car door and stepped out into the busy square, waving somberly before proceeding towards the bus terminal, leaving Luyando utterly unravelled.

Her phone buzzed again and a text from her mother popped up on the cracked screen.

Mwabuka buti mwanangu?

She finally let the tears fall. For her unborn child. For her husband. For herself. Through blurry eyes she responded.

I’m coming home Ma.

Bzzzzt. Bzzzzt.

Mulenga peered down at her phone screen as she settled back at her desk. Her colleagues had started to populate the office floor and she waved gregariously at them as she answered the call.

“Hello my love,”

“Hey wifey,” her husband’s cool voice cut through the phone, “How did it go?”

She leaned back into her chair and swiveled around smiling contentedly, “Not as bad as I thought babe, the Boss says she’ll only give me a verbal warning,”

“That’s a relief,” he beamed proudly through the phone, “Well done, I knew you would talk your way out of it,” he chuckled quietly, “They didn’t make you HOD Marketing for nothing!”

Mulenga grinned slyly as she lowered her voice, “I just had to my love, I have a reputation to protect. I don’t want to be stuck in this position forever,”

She noticed her colleagues gravitate towards the communal television screen as they sipped on their morning coffee, muttering amongst themselves as the morning news headlines scrolled across.

RTA REVEALS GRUESOME HOMICIDE…

The familiar jingle came to a halt as the suit clad reporter appeared on the screen, curtly announcing the tragedy, “This morning, along Great East Road, one life has been lost as the result of a head on collision between a Silver Toyota Allion and a Black Ford Ranger. Eyewitnesses say that the driver of the Allion who has been identified as Mrs. Luyando Phiri of house number forty-four Greenwood Road Northmead, had veered off the road as a result of exhaustion and crossed into the oncoming lane thus causing the head on collision. The driver of the other vehicle, Mr Patson Banda of house number seventy-nine Impala Road Kabulonga, is said to have sustained minor injuries and is being treated at the local University Teaching Hospital,”

“Baby, I’ll call you back,” Mulenga quickly cut the phone, despite her husband’s apparent contempt. She moved closer to the screen as she watched some of her colleagues shake their heads in communal sympathy as the reporter went on, “In a horrifying turn of events, it has been confirmed that the deceased was carrying the butchered remains of her murdered husband in what appear to be cool boxes, which were packed in the vehicle she was driving,”

A sea of gasps and murmurs ran through the room as Mulenga froze in shock before her phone buzzed her back into real time.

She answered the call, yet words failed her.

“Babe, why did you cut the phone so abruptly? You know I hate it when…”

She interrupted him clearly and slowly, “Have you left the house yet my love?”

“No I haven’t. In fact, that’s why I’m calling again… on my way out I found Buster lying lifeless on the lawn,” she heard a slight crack in his voice as he went on, “I think he was poisoned,” he muttered helplessly.

“Oh no honey! That’s terrible,”

“He must have snuck out and started rummaging through the neighbour’s bins as usual,” he sighed solemnly

“How can you tell my love?”

“Well I saw some chicken bone remains near his kennel and I know that he usually sneaks into that yard across the road, what’s the name of that weird neighbour of ours again?” she could hear his tone evolving into one of a vengeful nature as she recollected the early morning events.

“Luyando?”

“Yes that’s her! In fact I should go over there right now!” she heard his shuffled footsteps as he aggressively cut the phone.

“No baby, wait!” Mulenga tried calling him back but it just rang. She frantically grabbed her bag and darted out of the office again. She didn’t care about facing another disciplinary charge for desertion on duty.

THE END

*katundu – a Bemba word meaning ‘luggage’

*ukushipikisha – a vernacular phrase literally meaning ‘to be strong’. It is a cultural reference for married Zambian women along their journey and is encouraged by elders as a coping mechanism to survive and maintain marriages.

*lobola – bride price/ dowry

*Mwabuka buti mwanangu? – a Tonga greeting literally meaning ‘How are you this morning my child?’

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 organized by Hashtag Kalakar celebrates the diverse voices and talents of writers from around the world. This prestigious event provides a platform for poets and writers to showcase their work, fostering a community of creativity and literary excellence. Participants engage in a vibrant exchange of ideas and storytelling, enriching the global arts landscape.

We extend our heartfelt gratitude to Genevieve Shiaka for sharing her profound short story, "Cililo (Funeral)," with us in the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Her narrative invites reflection and emotional engagement, leaving an indelible mark on readers. Thank you, Genevieve, for your contribution to this celebration of global literary talent.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.