NoViolet Bulawayo’s short story, “Hitting Budapest,” won the Caine Prize for African Writing in 2011, and last month it won the Best of Caine award, in celebration of the initiative’s 25th anniversary. An assistant professor of creative writing at Cornell University, her novels, We Need New Names (2013) and Glory (2023), were both shortlisted for the Booker Prize.

Our editor-in-chief, Ukamaka Olisakwe, interviewed her after “Hitting Budapest” was announced as the winner of the Best of Caine award. They discussed the award, the story, her thoughts on crafts and publishing, and more.

Ukamaka Olisakwe: It’s an honor to have you here, NoViolet. I would like to start by congratulating you for winning the 2025 Best of Caine Award for your seminal short story, “Hitting Budapest.” The judges praised the story for its “powerful language, distinctive tone of voice, and bold, compelling storytelling,” which I think it so fitting, considering the impact that story had on me back in 2011 when I first read it and emotions it continues evoke every time I return to it. Could you talk a little bit what it feels like to win this prize, and the role the Caine Prize continues to play on the continent?

NoViolet Bulawayo: Hi, Ukamaka; thank you so much for having me. Winning from among such an excellent group of writers in the Caine Prize’s 25-year history is truly humbling, and I’m thankful to the judges for the honor. In terms of its role, the Prize remains the most prominent and exciting short story prize on the continent, and its impact speaks for itself, whether its launching careers, strengthening the African literary infrastructure, or helping put the African short story on the world stage. While we often celebrate the writers, we should also give praise to the Caine team, who’ve always worked super hard to make all these initiatives possible.

Uka: Darling and her friends in “Hitting Budapest” are unforgettable. I think what stays with me is the voice—how full of laughter and whimsy it is, despite the gravity of the situation which these kids find themselves in (you noted in an interview with Irenosen Okojie that the novel that precipitated this story, We Need New Names, was written during what you called “Zimbabwe’s lost decade…when the country really came undone”). Every time I teach that story and I and my students pose diagnostic questions to it, a sort of craft exercise, what my students always return to is that voice. It is deeply moving, playful, serious, unique. We see this quality retained in We Need New Names, which is an excellent model for writers who struggle with braiding laughter with grim subjects. Do you have tips for emerging writers or students who wish to follow this path? Perhaps thoughts about how you were able to thread these disparate tones to produce work that is so richly textured?

NVB: Voice is such a big element for me, for the simple reason that it can make or break a text. You may have perhaps read that the early drafts of We Need New Names were in third person, and told through an adult narrator. When “Hitting Budapest” came along, it did so with the promise of an alternate way of telling the story. The idea of rewriting the entire novel felt daunting at first, yet even before I finished, I recognized the lesson and its rewards. I was telling a grim, difficult story, and a playful voice allowed me to move through the trauma. The adult voice, on the other hand, tended to weigh the story down, and often couldn’t free itself from despair.

Humor helped with keeping dense moments tolerable—when dealing with painful subjects, it’s important to remember that the devastated are not necessarily stripped of humor, which is a very human impulse. Laughing through trauma wasn’t just a craft move, it was a way of saying the characters were not their circumstances, they were still people, and it humanized them. In addition, I had these complimentary layers that were either drawn from Darling’s character, or inspired by her world and experience (innocence, naivete, language, tragedy, exaggeration). The challenge was to shape these into a voice that could come off as effortless and honest.

Uka: And this brings me to the question of writing and confronting difficult subjects. There often are criticisms of the sort of themes African writers engage with. During a recent masterclass for young writers in Nigeria, one of my students had questions about the serious themes explored in contemporary African literary fiction, and we had an honest conversation about her concerns and the sort of thematic anxieties that literary fiction generally wrestles with or interrogates. I wonder if you have thoughts for young writers who wish to explore necessary difficult subjects but fear that their work would be flattened and disparaged as simply “trauma porn”?

NVB: I hope young writers understand that they have the right to engage with difficult subjects, along with whatever they feel like writing, and don’t need anyone’s permission.

Uka: This subject, I think, begs a thought for that charged topic of the state of publishing at home. In your conversation with Emmanuel Sigauke, right after you won the 2011 Caine Prize for “Hitting Budapest,” you noted that the state of publishing in Zimbabwe wasn’t at the time ready for a boom because of the larger issues on ground. Do you think that things have changed, the balance tipped even if a little in favor of writers who are writing and publishing from home? I also wonder what you think about the effect this has had on young writers who seek out platforms to share their stories, how past or present limitations have shaped the kinds of stories they tell—stories they feel will open doors abroad, give them a chance?

NVB: I wish I could say things have improved for writers on the ground, but unfortunately we still lack a robust literary infrastructure. In a way we’ve taken a step backward with the closure of Weaver Press, Zimbabwe’s foremost independent publisher. That said, it’s important to appreciate the fact these limitations have encouraged writers to look beyond our borders, and this is not entirely dire – Zim writers at home are benefiting from the broader African literary infrastructure that’s able to absorb them. This way, they are part of the robust trends shaping writing on the continent, and of course everyone else is publishing from wherever they are.

Uka: Many times, and especially during the masterclasses I facilitated for writers at home, I ask them to consider defining their practice and their literary ancestry. By ancestry, I mean the writers whose oeuvre they feel most drawn to and influenced by, writers whose works have shaped their craft. And many times, they say, NoViolet Bulawayo! The other time, a student in Ibadan waved a copy of Glory on the Zoom screen, showing off the pages she had marked. You really have become an ancestor, which I think it’s a beautiful thing. How conscious of you of this? How does it feel to know that you have inspired an entire generation of writers who are braving this beleaguered field?

NVB: I, too, was inspired by those who came before me, one day it will be the turn of the young ones to inspire the next generations. For now I’m glad to be read this carefully by our future writers.

Uka: Which brings me to this: who are some of your favorite young or emerging writers at the moment? Who do you think we should read more, publish more, teach more, and stay in conversation with?

NVB: The word “favorite” makes me uncomfortable, and even young too, as it can exclude writers who publish after the “young” years. But anyway, a list for today: TJ Benson. Carien Smith. Yvette Lisa Ndlovu. Wunpini Fatimata Mohammed. It’s a good place to say that the shifts in African literature in just the last decade have been pretty amazing. As Ellah Wakatama said in her famous lecture, “We Have  New Names,’” and we should make space for them all. 

Uka: And who do you consider your literary ancestors? Who are some of the writers who have defined your practice?

NVB: They are obviously far too many, here’s just five:  Elizabeth Moyo (my grandmother). Yvonne Vera. Toni Morrison. Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Edwidge Danticat.

Uka: Are you working on a new book?

NVB: I like talking about this part when the book is actually done.

Uka: Thank you so much for this opportunity.

Read “Hitting Budapest” here.

*Photograph by Nye Lyn Tho