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Chasing Freedom: Coming of Age at the End of Empire
In my home country, they call me a 'bornfree'.
Simukai Chigudu was born in Zimbabwe, two years after the end of its bitter war of liberation - a war in which his father had fought. This is the story of his childhood journey through the chaos of that new country's birth to Britain, where he arrived alone, a teenager, burning with ambition but utterly lost in ways he had yet even to discover.
Told with astonishing insight, his memoir describes the drama of his quest to belong and to succeed, and how his worldview was both shaped and shattered by Britain, ultimately setting him on a quest to uncover the truth of his parents' past.
In excavating their story alongside his own, he brings us closer than ever before to understanding one of the greatest upheavals in modern times - the freeing of a continent from colonial rule - not as history or politics but as a psychological and emotional force, one that divides families from within, even while those same divisions bind them fiercely together across time.
Simukai Chigudu was born in Zimbabwe, two years after the end of its bitter war of liberation - a war in which his father had fought. This is the story of his childhood journey through the chaos of that new country's birth to Britain, where he arrived alone, a teenager, burning with ambition but utterly lost in ways he had yet even to discover.
Told with astonishing insight, his memoir describes the drama of his quest to belong and to succeed, and how his worldview was both shaped and shattered by Britain, ultimately setting him on a quest to uncover the truth of his parents' past.
In excavating their story alongside his own, he brings us closer than ever before to understanding one of the greatest upheavals in modern times - the freeing of a continent from colonial rule - not as history or politics but as a psychological and emotional force, one that divides families from within, even while those same divisions bind them fiercely together across time.
352 pages, Hardcover
Published March 24, 2026
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Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews
March 26, 2026
1. This is one of the finest memoirs that I have ever read, it's in the same league of quality as 'Educated' by Tara Westover, however, what makes this book truly special is the manner in which it conveys an important Zimbabwean/African history lesson for its readers from the relatable lens of the author's personal history.
2. Beyond the Zimbabwean/African historical context, what is also impressive is how the author manages to tell a story of how such context weaves into global politics, whilst still ensuring that the human experience is at the forefront of the story.
3. Another interesting aspect of the book is how Simukai is able to draw a metaphor between Zimbabwe's decline during the Mugabe Era and his own personal struggles and the various coping mechanisms he deployed, including a stint with Christian fundamentalism.
I hope this book is successful and read by many!
2. Beyond the Zimbabwean/African historical context, what is also impressive is how the author manages to tell a story of how such context weaves into global politics, whilst still ensuring that the human experience is at the forefront of the story.
3. Another interesting aspect of the book is how Simukai is able to draw a metaphor between Zimbabwe's decline during the Mugabe Era and his own personal struggles and the various coping mechanisms he deployed, including a stint with Christian fundamentalism.
I hope this book is successful and read by many!
January 12, 2026
Brilliant
April 17, 2026
If I may be so bold, there is a way in which we can read Chasing Freedom as a Fanon-infused hauntology of the (post)colonial state and its capillaries, right down to the individual ‘bornfree’ who have never lived under direct colonial rule. Chigudu’s account of the promise of a free Zimbabwe, and its precipitous descent over the Mugabe years, is intricately intertwined with a filigree of tense parental relations, a tottering marriage, and a compulsive drive for forward momentum through educational achievement. It is often merely academic to expound on the so-called ‘legacies of colonial rule,’ but Chigudu, in a gripping narrative, furnishes an argument that colonialism suffuses the lives of those who have been set free but who have not found justice nor a channel for emotions that speak no words.
Britain is the clear specter in all of this, but parents do their fair share of haunting as well. The divides are what one might expect—white and black, metropole and colony, Rhodies and the rest—but Chigudu is careful to complicate such rude dichotomies while highlighting an oft underrepresented rift: that of parent and child in the conflict over what it means to be free. Chigudu’s father is a traumatized former freedom fighter who swears fealty to Mugabe’s ZANU(PF), and his mother is a first-generation feminist whose ambitions are often frustrated. In Chigudu’s telling, his appetite for excellence is whetted by a gnawing need to silence the intruding doubts about familial harmony, the state of Zimbabwean and Ugandan (his mother was from Uganda) politics, and the toxic mixture of admiration, envy, and resentment for elite, western-style prep schools and, ultimately, Oxford. These are, indeed, not disparate issues; they issue, in fact, from the same source, which is the unresolved psychological toll from the colonial past. Yet, by emphasizing the familial dimension, Chigudu makes us aware of multiple tonalities and timelines in which these psychic aftershocks are wending their ways through individuals, families, and, indeed, entire nations.
We thus have the startling contrast between Chigudu’s experiences with the white Zimbabweans whom he encountered at Stonyhurst and the intimacy of the friendship they formed as fellow teens bereft of rooted identities and experiencing extreme dislocation in England, and the pained silence of his parents who find it challenging to communicate in the emotional register which, if Chigudu is not exactly (and self-confessedly) adept, he is certainly more fluent. Make no mistake, though: this fluency is articulated through the backbreaking work of confronting oneself and the nature of one’s relationships; it was attained, in other words, via a long journey into the night. Chigudu’s memoir is, in this way, biography, primer, postcolonial polemic, and spiritual handbook, all in one.
The book is assuredly many things, and it is many things well, but though Chigudu is disarmingly—and refreshingly—honest, I am unsure if that honesty is truly unflinching. The one lacuna, I think, is a serious consideration of the role of class. While Chigudu is quick to accede that his family was part of the new Black middle class, I found myself wishing he had interrogated the opportunities that opened up for him vis-à-vis the rest of Zimbabwe. The gap in experiences between Chigudu and those who did not and could not attend schools like Saints or leave the country is barely accounted for. Chigudu acknowledges feelings of “cultural rejection and alienation,” but there is no sustained attention to why Black Zimbabweans called him a ‘salad,’ nor, in a memorable passage, why White Zimbabweans mocked him as a soutpiel (‘salt penis’) “because I have one foot in Africa, one foot in Europe, and my genitals dangle in the Mediterranean Sea, pickling in the brine of cultural confusion” (5). These are issues of race, certainly, and that is more than adequately addressed, but hidden in the derision is a sarcastic inflection of class differences as well, and I think the book would have been better if some of those socioeconomic dynamics had been deconstructed in like manner to the other riveting parts of the book which focus on race, family, politics, gender, desire, ambition, and their imbrication.
That aside, this book is an essential read and a valiant counter to those who might object: colonialism was in the past, why can’t we leave it in the past? We cannot leave it in the past because colonialism won’t leave us alone in the present.
Britain is the clear specter in all of this, but parents do their fair share of haunting as well. The divides are what one might expect—white and black, metropole and colony, Rhodies and the rest—but Chigudu is careful to complicate such rude dichotomies while highlighting an oft underrepresented rift: that of parent and child in the conflict over what it means to be free. Chigudu’s father is a traumatized former freedom fighter who swears fealty to Mugabe’s ZANU(PF), and his mother is a first-generation feminist whose ambitions are often frustrated. In Chigudu’s telling, his appetite for excellence is whetted by a gnawing need to silence the intruding doubts about familial harmony, the state of Zimbabwean and Ugandan (his mother was from Uganda) politics, and the toxic mixture of admiration, envy, and resentment for elite, western-style prep schools and, ultimately, Oxford. These are, indeed, not disparate issues; they issue, in fact, from the same source, which is the unresolved psychological toll from the colonial past. Yet, by emphasizing the familial dimension, Chigudu makes us aware of multiple tonalities and timelines in which these psychic aftershocks are wending their ways through individuals, families, and, indeed, entire nations.
We thus have the startling contrast between Chigudu’s experiences with the white Zimbabweans whom he encountered at Stonyhurst and the intimacy of the friendship they formed as fellow teens bereft of rooted identities and experiencing extreme dislocation in England, and the pained silence of his parents who find it challenging to communicate in the emotional register which, if Chigudu is not exactly (and self-confessedly) adept, he is certainly more fluent. Make no mistake, though: this fluency is articulated through the backbreaking work of confronting oneself and the nature of one’s relationships; it was attained, in other words, via a long journey into the night. Chigudu’s memoir is, in this way, biography, primer, postcolonial polemic, and spiritual handbook, all in one.
The book is assuredly many things, and it is many things well, but though Chigudu is disarmingly—and refreshingly—honest, I am unsure if that honesty is truly unflinching. The one lacuna, I think, is a serious consideration of the role of class. While Chigudu is quick to accede that his family was part of the new Black middle class, I found myself wishing he had interrogated the opportunities that opened up for him vis-à-vis the rest of Zimbabwe. The gap in experiences between Chigudu and those who did not and could not attend schools like Saints or leave the country is barely accounted for. Chigudu acknowledges feelings of “cultural rejection and alienation,” but there is no sustained attention to why Black Zimbabweans called him a ‘salad,’ nor, in a memorable passage, why White Zimbabweans mocked him as a soutpiel (‘salt penis’) “because I have one foot in Africa, one foot in Europe, and my genitals dangle in the Mediterranean Sea, pickling in the brine of cultural confusion” (5). These are issues of race, certainly, and that is more than adequately addressed, but hidden in the derision is a sarcastic inflection of class differences as well, and I think the book would have been better if some of those socioeconomic dynamics had been deconstructed in like manner to the other riveting parts of the book which focus on race, family, politics, gender, desire, ambition, and their imbrication.
That aside, this book is an essential read and a valiant counter to those who might object: colonialism was in the past, why can’t we leave it in the past? We cannot leave it in the past because colonialism won’t leave us alone in the present.
February 9, 2026
I received an ARC of this book and have been looking forward to it (took me a bit to get started since I have a huge TBR pile lol).
First off… this book is PACKED with information I never knew or forgot over time. I loved the way the author incorporates his knowledge of events with what he has been told by his parents and then the evolution as he learns the REAL history. This part is universal, I think, to some degree. Especially as children, we want to believe what our parents tell us about themselves and the world. It’s a real experience to find out that they are flawed and have misconceptions and cracks just like everyone else.
Chigudu’s relationship with his parents is both heartbreaking and curious. Even as an adult, they are very secretive about the truth of the status and depth of their relationship and as a child who saw a lot of strife at home, I could empathize with wanting, really NEEDING to know… why they were still (if not why they EVER) together.
Still with the memoir side…. I very strongly relate to the need to be perfect and exceed at everything. My parents’ sacrifices for me weren’t the same kind as the author’s… but between those and my desire to make them proud, good was never quite good enough. I hope he learns to accept his flaws and truly slow his pace. It’s very disheartening to always have to outdo yourself… it’s just not sustainable.
If the author reads this review… I SEE YOU. I may not be Zimbabwean but the struggles of expectations and identity are not unique to you… and your descriptions are vivid and so relatable.
I gave this book 5* knowing, as an ARC, there may be some changes. If this was finished it would be about a 4.9. Having some maps (especially with markings of the various refugee camps and the travels between countries) would be so helpful to better understand the length of travels and the overall geography. I plan on grabbing my Atlas diving back in (once I’ve had some time to think more on this book) for that purpose.
First off… this book is PACKED with information I never knew or forgot over time. I loved the way the author incorporates his knowledge of events with what he has been told by his parents and then the evolution as he learns the REAL history. This part is universal, I think, to some degree. Especially as children, we want to believe what our parents tell us about themselves and the world. It’s a real experience to find out that they are flawed and have misconceptions and cracks just like everyone else.
Chigudu’s relationship with his parents is both heartbreaking and curious. Even as an adult, they are very secretive about the truth of the status and depth of their relationship and as a child who saw a lot of strife at home, I could empathize with wanting, really NEEDING to know… why they were still (if not why they EVER) together.
Still with the memoir side…. I very strongly relate to the need to be perfect and exceed at everything. My parents’ sacrifices for me weren’t the same kind as the author’s… but between those and my desire to make them proud, good was never quite good enough. I hope he learns to accept his flaws and truly slow his pace. It’s very disheartening to always have to outdo yourself… it’s just not sustainable.
If the author reads this review… I SEE YOU. I may not be Zimbabwean but the struggles of expectations and identity are not unique to you… and your descriptions are vivid and so relatable.
I gave this book 5* knowing, as an ARC, there may be some changes. If this was finished it would be about a 4.9. Having some maps (especially with markings of the various refugee camps and the travels between countries) would be so helpful to better understand the length of travels and the overall geography. I plan on grabbing my Atlas diving back in (once I’ve had some time to think more on this book) for that purpose.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
An incredible memoir and analysis of the turmoil within Zimbabwe during the fight for freedom and the legacy of colonialism that Chigudu was faced with at every corner.
Coming into this with virtually no knowledge of Zimbabwe I was fearful I would get lost in names, regimes, and geography - but Chigudu was able to craft a immensely personal but yet sweeping narrative of Zimbabwe during the years of his and his parents youth & young adulthood. I learned so much while also remaining centered in Chigudu' journey, mostly surrounding his education, but also his struggles with mental health, religion, and relationships.
Excellently paced & deeply moving - don't miss this memoir.
Coming into this with virtually no knowledge of Zimbabwe I was fearful I would get lost in names, regimes, and geography - but Chigudu was able to craft a immensely personal but yet sweeping narrative of Zimbabwe during the years of his and his parents youth & young adulthood. I learned so much while also remaining centered in Chigudu' journey, mostly surrounding his education, but also his struggles with mental health, religion, and relationships.
Excellently paced & deeply moving - don't miss this memoir.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
This is a captivating memoir. Knowing little about Rhodesia or Zimbabwe, I read with a ferocity trying to gather as much information as possible in this brilliant book. What I learned about growing up in Africa is the powerful effects of colonialism that still linger today.
Simukai Chigudu traces his journey from Zimbabwe to Oxford with simple language but in a powerful voice. His mother left Uganda and met Simukai’s father in Zimbabwe. She is a force in this book. I loved her strength. His father is a cloaked figure in a way because he suppressed so much emotion - though as the author notes both his parents did which is what makes his stay in Ireland with a friend of his mother fascinating - here he learned a whole other way of living.
I liked how this memoir fleshes out the hypocrisy of colonialism. Simukai becomes a first, an only black among whites in many situations. And the irony of going to Oxford and seeing the Cecil Rhodes stature on campus illustrates this. As Simukai seeks to trace the impact of decolonization on him and his country, I think he finds that the trauma endures (PS: he is working to get the statute removed).
This was an excellent read. Highly recommend.
I’d like to thank NetGalley and Crown Publishing for allowing me to read this ARC.
Simukai Chigudu traces his journey from Zimbabwe to Oxford with simple language but in a powerful voice. His mother left Uganda and met Simukai’s father in Zimbabwe. She is a force in this book. I loved her strength. His father is a cloaked figure in a way because he suppressed so much emotion - though as the author notes both his parents did which is what makes his stay in Ireland with a friend of his mother fascinating - here he learned a whole other way of living.
I liked how this memoir fleshes out the hypocrisy of colonialism. Simukai becomes a first, an only black among whites in many situations. And the irony of going to Oxford and seeing the Cecil Rhodes stature on campus illustrates this. As Simukai seeks to trace the impact of decolonization on him and his country, I think he finds that the trauma endures (PS: he is working to get the statute removed).
This was an excellent read. Highly recommend.
I’d like to thank NetGalley and Crown Publishing for allowing me to read this ARC.
April 26, 2026
I wanted more of an intellectual memoir perhaps. For the author, you get the feeling that this was very much an exercise in self therapy - moving to a degree but quite exhaustive in the detail. There was an attempt to say that the personal history speaks of the national/international (colonial) history, and clearly this is true to an extent, but I’d now like to read something by him that sets out his current intellectual stall a bit more clearly.
April 8, 2026
I loved this, this is exactly what I want from a memoir wrapped up in a place and a culture I'm not familiar with. The writing and examining of feels and reasons for actions taken by his parents and himself, and the way the microaggressions followed him everywhere were really well done.
March 26, 2026
5⭐️
Fascinating mix of history and memoir
Fascinating mix of history and memoir
May 3, 2026
Highly recommend. Did not realize it was a memoir until I started reading.
Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews