

Life After Death

By Brian Ndingindwayo

Copyright © 2014 Brian Ndingindwayo

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 1494315114

ISBN-13: 978-1494315115

# Dedication

To My mom, Hilda

Who we shall always miss dearly

#

There are those who will say that there are too many people in the world. But how true is that? Let us suppose that this is the case. Would it then be logical to assume that the many disasters that beset the world are a benevolent force that we should be grateful for, and that wars, prisons, prostitution and hunger are all a result of the world having too many people on it? Could we then say that AIDS is the reaction of Mother Earth in trying to restore equilibrium? In terms of Christian canons, Jesus shed his blood on the cross to save the world. All those that express their belief in Jesus as the saviour of the world were saved through the blood. So is it a coincidence that the AIDS virus lives in the blood today? But where do we go from here, and who shall be saved?

# Chapter 1

The hut was murky and hot. Natasha was wedged in between the hot bodies of her sisters. Sleep was sometimes elusive. There were just too many of them in the room. A dozen was just too many for this cramped space!

Natasha tossed around uncomfortably. Someone else stirred and in their sleepy state, their legs became intertwined, one above and one below. A whiff of odour slapped her. Natasha choked a sharp retort of anger. She laid her head on her elbow. She looked at her sisters in the faint light of the moon. She forgave them, felt sorry for them even.

You snooze, you lose...

In the distance, she could hear the voice of her mother, singing and approaching. She had waded through huge mugs of traditional brew the day before. Now that there was none she was stumbling home.

Go away, go away, my blood

Take away everything

Please, go away my child

And don't you ever come back

Please go away my child

And don't you ever come back

Go and don't you ever think of your mother

I shall do better with another brew

Oh, go away my child

Because Tuzuka is no good for anyone

Hear, hear

Let me not ever smell you again

When another sunrise hits our back

Get away from the madness of your mother

And escape from the woes of Tuzuka

Tuzuka smells

It stinks of unwanted people

If you can, take them with you too

And go with them

Because, I tell you a tornado will hit this place

And when you return, they will all be in prison

A dog barked as she approached. A dozen more answered in the neighbourhood. She shushed them off. She called out, 'Natasha, come on, wake up! Don't you know the bus will leave you? Since when have dogs been more vigilant than people here?' Natasha stirred and cursed. She had not asked anyone to wake her up. Damn it, it was too early.

Her mother went into another song.

Stay with me, Kunyaanasa

I know they shall all go

One by one

And it's you who shall go with me

And you're lucky too

You will never have to succumb to travel that much

And worry as fast

You and I are one

Have you ever heard of a dog going to university?

I doubt it very much

No, dogs stay the with their masters

Dogs don't move that fast and far

That way they avoid human misfortunes

# Chapter 2

You're lucky Kunyaanasa

You eat and drink

And never have to worry

When your husband takes a third wife

You're lucky

But tell me Kunyaanasa, do you have a husband?

Guess you don't

That's why I say you're lucky, Kunyaanasa

Your mind is clean

So your ancestors bless you

Your life shall be one of purity

Because all your battles on earth are holy

You shall never have to fight a war

For the sake of the pleasure of the body

You're lucky Kunyaanasa

Because the ancestors protect you

You're lucky

The ancestors gave you a home

Blankets and people to care for you

You're lucky, Kunyaanasa, not me

I have never seen you sad.

Let alone trying to commit suicide

And when you die, Kunyaanasa

No one has to pretend anything

You see what I mean, Kunyaanasa

When each one of us dies

There will be a dozen false friends

Crying their hearts out

Priests, children, mothers and neighbours

All crying with one heart

I'm surprised at their complexity ???

And perhaps they should cry too

You hear, Kunyaanasa

Because each one of us here

Spends the rest of our lives

Chasing the wind

And when we come to the end of it

We die and go to hell

Kunyaanasa, please tell me

Have you ever heard of dogs going to hell?

And that's why I say you're lucky, Kunyaanasa

When I say

People never have to cry for you

Kunyaanasa, you're not the first of your kind I saw

When I came into this village

But you people are disciplined

You never have to conquer this village

A hut there, a field there, felling trees all over

And starve the rest of the Almighty's creation

For your own comfort and pleasure

Dogs have violated the world's virginity

And paradoxically made the world

A frightening place

For dogs

'Natasha,' her mother called again. Natasha flung the blanket away and rose. Hastily she threw the zinc door open and walked out into the night. The dog barked lazily from where it was sleeping on VaPfocho's lap. 'Now, make it quick, my child. We don't want the bus leaving you,' VaPfocho shouted. She had got the name as a result of her blunt speech.

Natasha circled the hut. She squatted behind a shrub, lifting her skirts. She sprayed the stem and at the same time peeked around for her brothers. Some of her jet hit her around the ankles. The whole homestead was now awake. It was a grand day. Natasha was leaving for the University and on a scholarship too! It wasn't everyday that people woke up to find they were at the Witwatersrand University in Johannesburg.

'The bus is coming,' Tambu called out. Everyone listened. It wasn't a bus, only the water buzzing on the fire. The next thing Tambu was crying behind the hut. Rumbidzai had beaten her. And then it was Rumbidzai crying. Desmond had beaten her. On and on like that it went, to and fro until nearly everyone was wailing uncontrollably. And that way they managed to waste half of the night.

Natasha watched it all and suffered it all in silence.

Finally it was time to go. Her father gave her a coat she didn't like. She hated her father for his treacherous behaviour. How could he have so many wives and children? Why did he do it if he could not get them properly educated? She didn't like her mother, either. She would probably be dead in a year. She was too weak, and she had let too many people abuse her. She had no idea how to get out of the circumstances she was in. Natasha didn't like vulnerable people. Her brothers were fighting the wrong battles. They worked too hard in the fields. And they reaped too little. None of them seemed to have the brains to coordinate an escape. They were weak, too. Someone was supposed to tell them: run away with your lives!

Her sisters were worse. They only talked about marriage and boys. She liked neither. She wanted to rest. Not to pull at blankets when they sleep in cold winters. She wanted to sunbath in the mornings. No, she didn't want to race to the damn fuck it well in the mornings. Surely, there was a place under the sun where girls could think about things other than cooking and sex. That place wasn't Tuzuka. They would never get off their asses, the damn girls! She would simply leave them with their woes.

When the bus ground to a halt, she quickly went on board as if she couldn't get away quickly enough. And when she said 'goodbye' for the last time, she meant it. They expected her to wave vigorously at them. She didn't. And that started a new era of her life.

Her first destination was Bulawayo. She would then catch a train to Jo'burg. It felt adventurous. She was all by herself, at last! She clutched at her coat distastefully, and hunched forward under the weight of her bag, whose zipper was undone. She walked miles in circles, trying to get to the Railways station. She asked for directions from people who were not patient enough to explain where exactly 15th Ave and Lobengula St. were.

The next thing she knew she was walking along a back alley. A man sat there among the waste and residue. He was greasy in complexion and flies kept worrying him in wave after wave of relentless attacks. Natasha debated if she would really do what she wanted to do. They had forced the coat on her. She had made plans. She lifted the lid of the bin. The man looked expectantly at her. To Natasha's surprise, he rose and came directly at her. She had time only to slip the coat in the bin and leave discreetly, the bag hanging lamely on her shoulder. There was a clunk of metal behind her as the man lifted the lid off the bin.

She stopped at a clothing shop. She knew exactly what she wanted, a slightly shorter skirt. The guard at the door stopped her. He gestured to the counter. He pointed at her bag. All around her, people were moving in and out. With their bags! She left her bag at the counter. She walked onto the thick carpet and was immediately caressed by the exclusive air conditioner. Suddenly, everything around her looked inviting. She decided to spoil herself for a change. She was going to buy something of quality - a dress for a staggering thirty dollars! She left the changing room a tall woman, with a dancing bosom and shapely hips.

She began trying to find the Railway station again. After another hour of clueless wandering a boy showed her the way. The boy made a sign by rubbing his thumb against the first digit. Natasha gave him two dollars. She was helpless against this spendthrift that she had become. She wondered if in the end she would have enough money left to take her to her destination.

# Chapter 3

Bulawayo is not poetic

It's chaotic

People, people, people

Oh, people will never leave me alone

Brother give me a cent

And leave me alone

People, people, people

Wherever I go in Bulawayo

I see people

People who will never give me a thing

I will hate them probably

And worse every day

They are so stingy

No, they are just people

There is a person in front of me

There is a person at my back

People and people wherever I go

There are too many people

And they are not given to sharing

Oh no, not in Bulawayo

That's what is wrong with you

You won't ever miss a meal

Or fast for a second

You're so corrupted by the food,

You carry around town

Come tomorrow

You shall be fatter than you were yesterday

Oh, people and people

I should have known

And I wasn't going to be a person.

Someone take these people away

Before they starve me out of air

Let them tramp on these pavements

Until they sink

It's so easy to hate them

Seeing how they run up

And down the streets

Chasing after the wind

Selfish people!

I bet today in the evening

Some will give birth

Here on the street

After all, they are just people

People who are also cockroaches, rats and ants

People, people, people

Please take them away

And free Bulawayo

Of sin

# Chapter 4

Even before the rains fall again, people are busy in the countryside. After the first downpour, they put seed into the ground. Before the year 1987 VaPfocho would have prepared her fields with oxen. The drought took away everything.

People had moved from flat pieces of land in the valley. They were now unproductive and spent time experimenting on the murderously steep mountains. There was now stiff competition to get land on mountain slopes despite protests from the village administrator that they were causing soil erosion.

What erosion, when we have stomachs to feed?

It was now known that VaPfocho was waking up early to pull up weeds from up the mountain. You could see her, a tiny piece of black, perched helpless against the mountain as you walk up from the village well. By the end of autumn, she had reduced the mountain to a white patch. Her two daughters often accompanied her, but they couldn't stand the blazing heat in the afternoon.

'If only your sister was here,' she said to her daughters. They both uttered something incomprehensive. They were tired. They needed to rest.

'We'll take a break,' VaPfocho said. 'But don't say I didn't warn you; this year we have to clear the whole mountain.'

So they sat in the shade and drank the brew. The brew didn't have sugar. Yolanda, the younger sister complained.

Yolanda's griping seemed to ignite VaPfocho's temper. 'Where do you expect me to get the sugar? Don't you know that the few cents your father has he spends on his new wife?'

The children knew it was time to be quiet.

In the many days that followed, VaPfocho and her children worked the mountainside. It was a dawn to dusk thing. You could see them walk home on stiff legs, hoes on their shoulders.

'You shouldn't worry my wives like that,' Tobias the village carpenter, called out on seeing VaPfocho and her offspring come down the mountain.

'The problem with your wives is that they have stomachs. When are you going to take them away?'

Tobias laughed while the girls shrieked.

'You're putting up a brave fight,' another woman called as they snaked their way around the compounds.

It started on a low note.

Lone grey clouds drifted across the sky, a wind accompanying them. These signs of impending rain were a great relief to VaPfocho and her children. They had been working on the mountain since morning. There were cakes of dried sweat on their skins. As the wind intensified the whistling and whooshing in the surrounding foliage also intensified. It sounded like a flooded river.

'The rain at last,' Yolanda said, with obvious relief. She stood at akimbo, hands on her blossoming hips and stared expectantly at the blackening heavens. Cumulonimbus clouds with dark anvil heads hung low in the South-Eastern horizon. The clouds made rapid progress towards them and quickly overshadowing the landscape.

'We better leave this place,' VaPfocho suddenly said.

They made their way downhill, but they were too slow. The scent of the rain was strong in the air. The rain could be heard whipping at the vegetation and the earth in the valley. The first drops fell on them as they came to flat land. Soon, it was a downpour.

They found shelter at the carpenter's home. The carpenter and his wife were making a fire. They ducked in without knocking, beating the chickens and goats by a close margin. People occupied the closest place to the fire, followed by the goats and then the chickens, in the natural order of their bravery. The carpenter tried to chase the goats out of the house. The goats, who couldn't understand why the chickens weren't supposed to go out as well stayed put.

'The ancestors have answered our prayers for rain,' said the carpenter's wife.

'You should not be doing this to my wives. I think it's time I brought them home,' said the carpenter, eyeing his roof, which was dripping and letting in the rain.

It was dark, and made darker by the rains. Lightning flashed across the sky and in the momentary streak of light, a clear outline of the land was visible. The talking came to an abrupt stop. The thunder that followed sent the goats and the chickens scattering about without segregation.

The rain subsided with time. The thunder became weaker. The droplets were reduced to fine sheets of soft rain. Through the door, they watched the small gullies rushing downhill.

'You helped us, Mr. Carpenter,' VaPfocho said conclusively.

'That's nothing,' he said. 'Let the woman take you out.'

The carpenter's wife walked them out and they proceeded home.

There was a surprise for them at home when they got there. The rain had been destructive, to say the least. It had taken the roof off VaPfocho's hut. The roof had collapsed in. They arrived to see people taking her belongings out.

VaPfocho threw her arms in the air and as she did so she also leapt into the air and landed painfully a few paces away. Soaked and wet she rolled disconsolately in the mud. Some people held her fast to prevent her doing any damage to herself.

'Heavens,' she cried. 'Why should the ancestors do this to me? Duma, Vakarabwi, haven't I brewed beer for you?'

'Don't cry like that as if you have lost a child,' her husband hushed her off.

'How many have I lost here?' she spat. 'And you didn't shed a tear.'

She turned away and cried all the more.

'You can't be seen doing that,' the husband complained.

Everyone did their best to cushion her sorrow and sense of devastation: the neighbours, the husband and his other wives until it looked like a dull dream. VaPfocho carried her belongings into the girl's hut. The happenings of the day took away her appetite and she wouldn't eat. She slept like a log. When the girls joined her after they had prepared their meal and eaten, they found her in their room, looking sad and forlorn.

# Chapter 5

Natasha started, worked and finished her degree.

VaPfocho watched as the world turned violently around her. Friends and relatives drifted away from her. Children regarded her with suspicion.

Her second born, Wadzanai was hastily married to a bearded husband of the Apostolic Faith church. Yolanda wasn't promising to be at home too long. Despite all this, VaPfocho still went up the mountain and worked herself almost to a standstill. She harvested just enough to keep herself going, and nothing more.

She still slept in the girls' nhanga. She tried to cajole her husband into putting up a hut for her. He turned a deaf ear on her. She realized that without a boy-child of her own, things would never work out.

They can't do all these things for you because you are defenceless, she would reflect. Things were this way for her because there was no male in her house to push things along. All the women with sons were getting along just fine.

Emotions got entangled in her mind. They got to her physical well-being. At times, she wouldn't even leave her room, the one she still shared with the girls. Her husband took her to the hospital. After a day and half in the queue, she was told she had high blood pressure. High blood pressure, she was told, is caused by thinking too much.

'So what do we do?' the husband asked.

'Just don't let her think too much.'

The woman nurse wrote something on the card.

'What's that?' VaPfocho asked.

'Prescriptions you got to buy.'

They had paid five dollars to see the nurse. Nothing less than selling a donkey would have made it possible to buy the prescription.

# Chapter 6

The world awaits you

Big and bad

Virgin girl

The world awaits you

Red as blood

That isn't the way to walk

Virgin girl

You flinch when you step on the ground

You imagine too many eyes on your back

Can't you stop thinking of yourself?

Virgin girl

You imagine too much

And lose your head

In places and wonders

You miss the truth

Wait for the blood

Wait till you're broken

It's the final testimony

It'll wash the red out of you

That'll change your life

You'll learn to love

And you'll learn the truth

At it will be all gone in one night

Virgin girl

On the cold night

On a warm bed

Top it a little with a little blood

You shall learn a thing or two

The sun shall shine in the morning

You will grope for him in the space next to you

He'll be gone

Broken promises

And here you'll learn again

First time sticks

And you'll ask

Where have you been?

What can I do for you?

You'll grow to love

What's more?

You'll realize you're just about full

You'll stop treading on land

And lose that useless flesh

Merging with the land

That little blood shall save us

From you

When you lose your first blood

And save this world

It was almost like a dream, and she wished it was.

It wasn't.

There was a faint rap at the smoky window. Nobody responded. There was a faint clunk of the knob. The window could be opened from outside, since some of the windowpanes had fallen off. Someone was climbing stealthily up the window. And he fell in!

She opened her eyes slowly. A tall man stood in the hut. Choosing! She might have wanted to scream. If she had tried, the sound would have died in her throat. If she was shocked, only God knows what she was when the man chose her. The stranger fell easily beside her. He nudged her. The hairs on her head stood uptight. She let out a nerve-shattering cry, leaping over the sleeping girls. She screamed the louder as she knocked into the wall.

'There is someone in here,' she cried.

The girls came out of their sweet dreams, nothing short of a scuffle. They got mixed up with the stranger easily. Dogs picked it up from the outside, begging without embarrassment to come in to solve the problem their own style. You wonder where the dogs were all along. Perhaps the stranger had brought some meat.

'What's it?' the girls asked in confusion.

There was total chaos again. Everyone suspected the person next to her was the stranger. Men of the neighbourhood heard something was amiss. Most fire brigades are still to learn to react as fast.

Men circled the hut with spears, sticks and stones. It was the sons of different women with the able-bodied men of the community. In the gloom of the pale moonlight, the women spotted a lone figure that was standing against the wall, broken by the sudden turn of events. The girls rushed to one side and in so doing exposed the now uneasy and sheepish stranger. The stranger stood there, awaiting his fate.

'Come out,' the men hissed from outside, having made sure all the girls were out

Everyone recognized the poor boy as he walked out of the hut: Tendai. VaPfocho just remembered something. He had of late been pursuing her youngest daughter, Yolanda, quite relentlessly. Her Yolanda, the adventurous and untamed Yolanda!

'Let us burn him,' one of the boys suggested.

'No, we won't do it here,' another answered, angry and harsh as pepper.

'Tie him up and we'll take him away to the bush. We'll give him a difficult time. And you're right, we'll come short of burning him.' The oldest boy from the younger wife was naturally taking charge.

They tied him. And he, quiet as a beaten dog, succumbed without a fight, only apologizing. 'I will never do it again, Fathers.'

'We want to make sure. After this exercise we'll be doubly sure.'

They led him away.

VaPfocho's skin crept as she heard the oldest boy calling, 'Bring us pepper. And sjamboks!'

She knew exactly what they were going to do with him. They were going to strip him naked. They were going to smear pepper on his genitals. And they were going to beat him until he fell unconscious. It was going to be amazingly painful.

# 

# Chapter 7

Yolanda couldn't be found. They searched high and low. They assumed she had gone to see an aunt. Next they thought she had probably gone to see an uncle, or perhaps a nephew of the family. They sent messages to friends long forgotten. But she seemed to have vanished.

At the end of the day, it was confirmed that Yolanda had not been found. At the end of the day, they gathered by the fire and tried to figure out where Yolanda was. It was unanimously agreed that VaPfocho knew where she had put the child. VaPfocho, being VaPfocho would bring the girl home when it suited her. And that was to be very soon.

A snake was found in the girls hut!

VaPfocho wasn't there. The girls reported to the boys. The sons of different women came after it with sticks, catapults and stones. It was quite a big snake, an endless coil of a black tube: the mamba. Indeed, everyone who saw it screamed the same sentiment: mamba! VaPfocho found the boys like that, armed but useless. Her instinct told her something was wrong.

Eventually, one of the younger boys who was the proud owner of a well-made catapult and a marksman of sorts, took a shot at the reptile and hit it just below the head, practically decapitating it. Then he aimed another stone into its back. From a safe distance VaPfocho hit the snake with boiling water from a pot that had been on the fire. Then everyone with a long stick was upon the besieged reptile. They kept hitting it long after it was dead. The oldest among the boys scooped the snake up with a long stick and carried it out. He put it inside an empty hole nearby and covered it with grass and dry sticks before pouring paraffin on the heap and lighting it.

He stood guard until there was nothing but ash. Then he closed the hole with soil and rolled a stone over it.

The girls wouldn't sleep in the hut that day. VaPfocho failed to understand why they wouldn't sleep in the hut if the snake was gone. It was the girls' minds that had changed. The hut was still the same. She used the hut and even wished they never came back. She desperately needed her own hut.

People were talking into the night outside the hut.

'We'll burn the hut,' she thought she heard someone say. Her nerves screamed.

'Come out.'

She rose and walked out silently, waiting for her fate just like Tendai.

'Witch,' another boy called.

'VaPfocho, tell us where all these snakes are coming from?' the eldest boy demanded.

'Shut up, shut up...What do you mean by that?' she demanded furiously.

'Witch, witch...' the other boys called. 'Impossible, we can't live with her. She will kill people with her snakes.'

'Yes, let her go,' a girl yelled from within the crowd. 'We're tired of her tricks.'

VaPfocho knew it was too dangerous to stay. She would have to move. She heard her husband's weak voice, trying to shush everyone else but to no avail.

She packed her belongings, which weren't much, and took a path that led to nowhere.

# Chapter 8

A message came home after a week:

I'm sorry, Mother. I am pregnant. I couldn't face Father. He would have killed me. I had to run away with Tendai.

Yolanda had eloped.

Natasha finished university and was employed at a commercial bank in town. Everything was going her way. She left her CV there one morning. Two months later, she was called for an interview. She was the only person who attended the interview. A week later, she was called to report for work. She had to miss a day, because she was writing her last paper at Witwatersrand University.

At the bank, they gave her cards: computerized keys to an apartment, her office and car park slot.

But there was a small problem: the door to her office couldn't open. She tried feeding her card into the hole from all angles to no avail. Several men tried the door with no success. The door couldn't open. Soon it was lunchtime. The caretaker suggested they take a break while he went to try and get a locksmith.

At lunch, a guard accompanied her to the basement to her car: a sleek Nissan Skyline. Tears stung her eyes: Natasha loved wheels. She had to remove the plastics herself. The guard grinned at her as she drove off, and she knew then that from then she would never take a guard into her bed.

She stopped at the gate as another guard came around to politely demand her credentials. She kind of liked it: dark tinted glasses, short skirt, and big boobs: a professional woman that carried a sophisticated look by knowing a little too much.

'Madam,' said the guard touching her cards as well as his hat. Natasha couldn't help noticing that he didn't even read her card.

Natasha shifted her gears, but there was no response. She lowered the accelerator, still nothing.

The engine of her brand new car had seized.

Miles and miles of empty space between them but bound by blood, VaPfocho knelt and prayed. Tears drenched her face, coming unchecked down her cheeks, salty in the mouth.

The fire was a soft glow in the middle of the hut. The smoke had subsided a little: ambers don't give smoke. There was a single hen in the corner, disturbed by her sounds. Kunyaanasa sat in the glow of the ambers, helpless and watching.

Her stomach throbbed. It was at the point of bursting. Her whole body was this one solid mass of pain. She recalled the nights she had spent the whole night asleep, and realized those were a blessing from God. We don't realize how important things are until they are taken away from us.

To think this could trigger a fresh outburst of pain. She cried again: Natasha, Natasha and Natasha

# Chapter 9

In the evening Natasha phoned her lover at the Parliament of Zimbabwe in Harare. A nasal secretary told her the Minister of Health was in a meeting, and she would take a message if Natasha didn't mind. Natasha insisted that she wanted to speak to Thomas.

She was put through. 'Comrade, Dr., Minister of Health, the Honourable Member of Parliament, Thomas...'

'Damn it, Thomas,' Natasha interjected. It seemed to her that Zimbabwe's cabinet ministers had the longest titles in the world. 'I got myself into trouble,' she added.

'What trouble?'

'I lost my job so I want to come home.'

'No, you can't do that, Sue. See, you can't go to Botswana, now. I bought that apartment for you.'

A temper seized her. She immediately confirmed that she wasn't the only girl in the minister's life: he had wives and madams. Above that he had more women and girls.

'No, it's me. Natasha.'

'Natasha, sorry. How are you doing, dear?'

'Sad. I'm coming home. And I will leave for my country home in Chipinge as soon as I can.'

She heard another phone ringing in the background. She was told to wait. When he returned, he said, 'So when are you leaving Jo'burg?'

'Today.'

'That's fine. I'll wait for you at the airport. Can you kiss me over the phone?'

Before Natasha could answer, she heard. 'Wait,' as he answered another phone call.

She heard Thomas swearing. 'You are a man from the Truth?'

'What's that you want to know about AIDS funds?'

'I have no comment on that.'

'Young man, that's asunder.'

'Hey, I refuse to comment on that. Just exactly where are you phoning from? I think you have a very big affinity for trouble. And I'm willing to give you just that, too'

'Not Thomas, you are talking to the Comrade, to Dr., the Minister of Health, and an Honourable Member of Parliament. And the law won't allow you to speak like that.'

Natasha, since this was on her mobile, knew she would be hit hard on the bills.

She hung up.

On a quiet afternoon, Natasha caught a plane to Harare. She set out alone to the airport in a cab. She had four suitcases. The cab driver had some hard time fitting them in the car.

As she sat alone in the leather seat, she reflected that this was the first time that she had ever gone back home. She also realized that being what she was, she had to go home on finishing school. She had never heard of anyone who was doing what she had done and got away with it. She just had to go home. All that considered, she still had some affection for Durban, Cape Town and Jo'burg. She was very certain she would come back some time.

They had a brief stop in Bulawayo. The last time she was here, she had toiled on foot. How time changes: now she was travelling on a plane.

She was expecting to see the Doctor on arriving at the airport. He wasn't there.

Her temper flared. She dialled him at his office.

'We're not taking any calls from journalists, madam. Sorry.' And the phone was jammed in her ears before she could rebel.

Her temper building steadily, she dialled him on his mobile phone. Damn him, if he wasn't coming, he should have simply said so. Natasha would have made plan B. Damn it! She felt cheated.

His phone was barred from receiving calls.

And as she looked around wondering what she would do with the four suitcases, she saw a man approaching. He stretched out his hand. 'Sipeyiye. Sipeyiye Mohyi.' He said.

Natasha stretched out hers too and shook his timidly. 'I don't suppose we have met before, have we?'

'No, we haven't. But since Dr. Dumka couldn't make it, I thought I would help.'

'You work for him?' she asked.

'And where's your luggage?'

He was a wise man and in no time he had taken charge of everything. He drove a Mazda 323. It was a far cry from what Dr Dumka would have driven: a Mercedes or a Jaguar.

But Sipeyiye was alive and young. He was a good listener and held intelligent conversation.

'How is Jo'burg?'

'Great, I guess. I will miss it. But there is no place like home, and you know it. I had to come here, at one time or another and afterwards start strategizing again.'

'Thomas has a great home there, girl, isn't it?'

'Yeah. I have been there once myself, when he was hosting a big party. That's a real splendid home that he has.'

'Been to Cape Town myself. Believe me, he has a mansion. And in the evening you will be looking at the great Table Mountain. That's him, imagine, I'm telling him, you have looted enough out of the government coffers. Slow down. He's telling me to fuck off.'

'You speak as if you're great friends.'

'Sort of. Ever seen his mansion in Cape Town?'

'What you talking about, man? I go there every weekend.'

'Yep, so where do we go from here?'

'Sheraton. I want to catch a bus to my country home early morning.'

'Sheraton we shall go,' he said as he snaked through the traffic.

'And, Mr Sipeyiye? I mean, have you done defence driving?' she asked. He was driving rather dangerously through the traffic.

'Yep. In North Korea.'

'Well-travelled too, aren't you?'

'Yep, I had to go there and do martial arts and all the dangerous things. I still spend most of my spare time strengthening my body at RIM Martial Arts. The world has never been a safe place for me.'

'We share a common interest there. I'm a great fanatic of martial arts.'

'I guess some day we shall meet at RIM in Bulawayo.'

After the refreshing bath, Natasha did her makeup. She covered her eyelids with white shadow shimmer. She used burgundy eyeliner extending outwards. Along the lashes she wore black mascara. She shifted her emphasis from modern classic to updated, chic. She went into the lounge and found Sipeyiye working on his laptop. He dropped the lid as she approached.

'And Mr Sipeyiye, you haven't told me you work so hard for a living. And exactly what do you do for a living?'

'A journalist. Ever been very low in the ladder on a sick salary? That's me.'

'What are your qualifications?'

'Only a poor degree in Media Studies. Oxford.'

'I'm impressed. And what paper are you working for?'

'The Truth of Bulawayo.''

'Yeah, and where exactly do Thomas and you meet?'

'Damn Thomas. You know what I think? I think you smell good. And what's more, I think you look good.'

Natasha felt her blood rushing to her face. She realized she had to be very careful today. She might end up in his bed. And she'll be very popular with Thomas. She said a lame 'thank you'.

'Time for supper now, my dear. You will blush later.'

She felt him fumbling for her hand as they walked to the dining room.

'That's very uncivilized, Mr Mohyi.' She jumped. 'You're taking advantage of a stranded woman. And that's not very fair.'

'Sorry, you very faithful to Thomas, too, aren't you?'

'Very.'

'And I'll leave you alone only on one condition, that you promise me one thing: tell me how, when you met Thomas. I only want to confirm.'

'I will do that.'

As they talked at the table, her phone rang.

'Natasha, where are you? It's Thomas.' She was told. 'I've been looking for you. How did you leave the airport?'

'I'm at the Sheraton. Come straight to the waiting room.'

'So what else do you have to say about the minister?'

'Nothing much.'

'And have you been in London with him?'

'Not me.'

'So who does he go with?'

'I really don't know anything about the London you want to talk about, Mr Sipeyiye.'

Sipeyiye has begun to pack. 'And where are you going?' Natasha asked, alarmed.

'An Internet shop.'

'I can't read you. Internet Shop?'

He stretched his hands. 'We might meet again. You are a beautiful girl. Thanks.'

And with that he walked off.

Just then he saw Thomas walking in through the door. They brushed against each other with neither a glance nor a word as they passed the door. Natasha couldn't understand it at all.

Dr. Dumka was smartly dressed in the latest suit.

'Who was sitting here?' he asked as he planted a kiss at her temple.

'Sipeyiye.'

He nearly spat. 'Sipeyiye who?'

'Sipeyiye Mohyi.'

'Damn, where's the son of a bitch?'

'He just went out.'

The doctor practically ran out of the room.

The first thing Natasha noticed in the morning were the headlines. They all said something about Dr. Dumka and the AIDS money. The Truth went further to explain how the minister had externalised the people's money to put up a mansion in Cape Town. It explained how the minister had even opened an account with a Swiss bank. Natasha left Harare in a hurry before Thomas could put a hand on her.

# Chapter 10

VaPfocho could hear every sound in the dark because of her pain and worry. You can never sleep when your body is on fire. Today, there was someone trudging in the homestead. She thought she heard the sound of heavy luggage been thrown to the ground.

She heard, 'Mother.' She would recognize the voice even in another lifetime.

'Natasha,' she croaked.

Natasha opened the door. She groped her way to her.

'Mother;' she called again in the dark.

She was only inches away from her now. She came nearer still now. Natasha's fingertips brushed her forehead. Natasha recoiled.

'You are wet,' she accused.

'I'm sweating.'

'It's dark here,' she complained, again.

Natasha sat beside her in the dark. She wore a peculiar smell in contrast to the natural smell in the hut. VaPfocho didn't like it. And for another instant, VaPfocho doubted her daughter's capacity to handle the work that lay ahead of her.

'Where's the candle?' she asked again. Natasha was afraid of the dark, and the future that wasn't promising to be alight either.

'There is no light,' she said matter-of-factly.

'There always has been no light.'

'What's the problem?' Natasha asked.

'Everything,' her mother responded.

'Mother.'

'That' s what it is. Everything is the problem.'

Natasha groped for the fire. She knocked a few twigs together. Ambers flew in the air. She blew into the air, not easily. And she choked from the smoke. The fire came alive, illuminating the small hut. Her eyes stung.

She looked around the hut distastefully.

Her country roots and this is where they had taken her again. It all came down to this hard mat and the groans of pain from nearby. The smell of cow dung was in the air. Even Natasha herself doubted her capacity to change things. Where do you begin when things stand like this?

But despite all this, she knew she had to be here.

She wondered where her sisters were when their mother was suffering like this. And people at times we forget the greatest joy in life: to give. And if we can't gather that, God may just take away even the little that's left. She had no doubt in her mind that her sisters were doomed.

That night, she made some resolutions. She would say goodbye to the carpenter. It is no good to impose your suffering on people who have nothing to do with it.

She would put up a hut somewhere. She was now looking inside herself to find strength. She would take her mother to the hospital. She would go to Harare to try finding a job. And maybe she would take her mother there.

She woke up very early on the day that followed. She asked for a bucket and a towel from the carpenter's wife. She gave her, with a slightly crinkled face. Natasha explained, very politely and without even using the word AIDS that she would not contract any disease by sharing a bucket.

# Chapter 11

Natasha tried all odds. On a certain morning, she gathered all the blankets and her mother's rags. She carried them to the Nyazvindete River. She had some tough time washing them. In the afternoon, she came back from the valley.

The hut that her mother was sleeping in was dirty and smoky. She went around and gathered some cow dung. She smeared it on the walls. As she did this, she came across some papers in the hut. Dusty, ruffled papers thrown carelessly about the hut.

She had expected this, but still when she looked at the papers, they shocked her. Written in an upright, quick handwriting, they proclaimed VaPfocho had visited the hospital five times. They announced in the end that she had tested positive for HIV and been discharged.

She found herself breathing in rasps.

'Mother, we'll put up our own hut.'

VaPfocho gazed at her daughter. She stared at the distant hills of Gona. She gulped lustily at her brew.

'I'm talking to you, Mother.'

VaPfocho yelled. 'Where did you hear of women putting timber on their shoulders to put up a hut? You're mad, Natasha. You have gone out of your mind. Do you hear me?'

'We have to do this, Mother. It will be easier for me to take care of you if we have our own place. We're grateful for what the carpenter has done for us. But we should move off. We don't want to burden him by expecting too much from him.'

'You have never wanted to stay with me here, have you? I smell. I'm rotten. That's why you don't want me here. I should have known. You should have stayed in Joni selling your body.'

'Excuse me.' Natasha tilted her head, totally amazed.

'And you'd pretend you don't know what I mean, too? You have a very, very big hole between your legs.'

'Would you stop it, please? Say something sane.' She almost screamed.

'What sanity do you know? What do you know, anyway? I'm far much older in the ways of Tuzuka than you can ever be.'

Natasha's face heated as the tears rushed to her eyes. This was not the first time her mother had raised her temper. Neither was it the last. Her Mother was impossible! She had come to the point of calling her that, too: impossible! VaPfocho would never appreciate all that Natasha had done. Really, if anything VaPfocho would make it all thorny. Natasha was losing her faith in the good things of life.

Natasha bolted out of the house and stormed into the woods. She stamped violently upon the rough ground. The knotted grass and tore at her feet. She stumbled and fell. Not once. She always rose more determined. She began a frenzied small jog. Her body was hot. Despite this, she felt capable and almighty.

She stopped abruptly. All around her was a thorny wall of greenery. Her breath came in audible rasps.

She was on a nervous breakdown, she thought. She turned, clutched and hugged the trunk of a msasa tree. The bark tore at her chest, raw and dry.

She was wasting herself. She was supposed to be somewhere else, growing spiritually. Here, she was caught in a common problem. She was tied down by her history. She was rotting to eternity while she still couldn't move an inch.

How she wished to be free! She had never volunteered. Natasha had never said she wanted to save the world from pestilences, incurable diseases. She simply wanted to be away and free. The very least they'd do is appreciate it if she would stay here another day.

Damn it, why would she waste her time thinking of it, much less wishing it? She was trying to plant a love that would never grow. She should have known all this and acted accordingly. The problem with her: she was never growing up.

She cried earnestly, the tears falling down her cheeks onto her neck and on to the grass. Tears, saliva and mucus mixed on her chin. They trickled down slowly. The thick fluid dripped unchecked to her breast.

'If she could...if only...'

She jerked from the impulse.

No, it couldn't be her thinking. She had never wished anyone dead before. Least of all, her mother! She cried the louder. She had been tested. She was giving in. 'God, why do you let this happen to me?' That was the single question she was asking herself a dozen times each day.

She cried until her eyes were enamel white. She cried for the better part of the afternoon. Eventually, she hung limply to the tree, spent.

She turned and looked in the direction of her mother. She disengaged herself from the tree. The bark was smeared with mucus and tears.

She walked slowly back home. She feared again, more than anything else, her mother's explosive anger.

VaPfocho sat alone blocking the door to the hut. She was deadly quiet. When Natasha asked to go in, she rolled aside.

'Where are you coming from?' VaPfocho, asked softly. There was a stony calmness in her. It would not be too long before she exploded again.

'I've just been walking around.'

'You don't lie to me,' she glared. 'Moving around and crying? Is that the same thing? Since when have you started telling lies? Tell me, when did you start lying? Who's corrupting you?' She pointed an accusing finger at her.

'It doesn't matter what I have been doing, Mother. I am old enough to care for myself.' She had her hands on her hips.

'It doesn't matter for sure.' That quietness in her voice again magically calculated to disarm Natasha. Natasha was caught off-guard. And then like a maggot wriggling in flesh her mother waded into her with her next words, 'When I spend the whole day without sadza. When I crawl on my knees to reach for the water, when I mew and bray under this pain. There you're my child, to tell me it doesn't matter.'

Her mother's words stung her to the bone.

It was easier to be quiet, Natasha realized. She could argue and reason, but she would never win. Very soon the carpenter's wife would be craning in, attracted by voices. She was not just about to explain it was a small squabble again.

She stared at her mother. In that single instant, she summed her up, again. A face ridged, fashioned that way by daily tempers. She suffered from self-centeredness. She would never relax, get to look around and appreciate love and nature. She had a problem, and a big one at that. She had waged a war ever since her inception and she wanted the whole world to revolve around her. No ways, any ways, Natasha swore.

VaPfocho looked into nothingness. She had been doing that in as long as Natasha could remember her. Her mouth twisted in a selfish grin, ugly as ever. Under her bony face were taut fibres, tight on a scaly skin. Natasha told herself she didn't have a mother. All her efforts to have one have failed.

They didn't exchange another word on this day. Every word was bound to be opposed. She prepared her supper quietly. She cooked more than what was necessary. She made it a point to tell her mother that there was something in the clay pot. She left it there.

# Chapter 12

Her body assumed a new function. She realized it when she knelt down to wash her mother's body. Her mother's body had a reeking, human stink. And as she looked at her greying body worn down by continuous pain, she felt the tears warming her eyes. She knew why she had to come back from South Africa: her mother needed her.

'I don't want a bath,' her mother protested.

Natasha said something politely. She didn't want to say much. She knew she was weak and that would betray what she was feeling for the woman who lay in the bath.

One sunny afternoon, and after selling the last of her belongings, Natasha left for Harare. She explained to VaPfocho that she, VaPfocho, would remain behind, and there was no other way to do it. She emphasized however that she wouldn't be long.

When she set foot in Harare, she went straight to the Herald building. She asked for all the papers in the previous fortnight and jotted down the phone numbers that had anything to do with accountants. She visited a typist and prepared a CV. She posted them to the various addresses, without an idea on how she would get her response.

She also visited a Government Office that claimed to have the responsibility to distribute AIDS funds. The building was dilapidated and squashed between other tall buildings.

'There are no AIDS funds,' a secretary told her between mouthfuls. She was munching a pie at 8:30 in the morning.

'What's that she wants?' a man asked as he passed the reception. 'Bring her in, please.'

And so Natasha followed a well-dressed man along until she was ushered into another office.

Natasha asked how she could get AIDS money for her mother. She did it in a low tone, noting the office was too close to the reception. The man she was talking to, in turn did not give a damn. It was clear that Natasha wouldn't be the first to seek the muscle of Dr Timothy.

The man explained to her that a quarter of the Zimbabwean population needed AIDS levy rescue. He explained still that up to date, only two thousand people had received that fund. He went further to say that he had played a major role in half of them getting the fund.

'I'd do you a favour,' he said moving with great authority in his swing chair. 'You'd get the AIDS levy, all right,' he continued. 'But not before I look at the insides of your knickers.'

Natasha returned home in a hurry.

# Chapter 13

She woke at first crow. It was still lemon grey when she walked along the edges of the carpenter's fields. She left a trail of sagging grass along her wake. She was afraid of the night around her. Still, she dreaded to have to wait for the light that looked so distant away. She knew she had to continue.

The night, the promise of the light, the fear, and the resolution: that summed her on the morning.

Natasha was going to put up a hut.

The night had softened her temper. She had woken up with a new spirit. Although afraid, she was resolved. Putting up huts was supposed to be the men's job. She realized now, that she had spent the better part of her life with a wrong idea. She walked aimlessly in the morning shadow of the vegetation. She had not the slightest idea which trees to fell for the hut.

Guess work did it. She spotted two straight, thorn trees. She began to cut them. As she worked, the sun warmed and heated her body. Her back burnt. Sweat plastered her back. She worked harder still.

She sat on a rock then lay on her back. She wondered how indeed she was going to finish putting up a house at this rate. Her back ached, and dearly longed for water to drink. She fell asleep like that. She woke up, a quarter of an hour later.

She picked her timber. When she put it on her shoulder, it prickled and tore her shoulder. She tried her head: women are stronger on the head. The two poles rolled and sat uncomfortably. She made a plan. She would the logs one at a time. As she approached the carpenter's fields, she dropped it and went back for the other one. When she had finally managed to bring both of them home, it was already dusk.

She dashed to the river. She bathed, trying in vain to leave all the blue ticks that had latched onto her at the Nyazvindete. She came home at sundown with the tin dangling on her head.

Her mother had eaten the food she had left in the pot. She didn't want her mother to eat cold food. On the day though, she had been left with no choice.

VaPfocho was sleeping and snoring quietly. They had not talked to each other since morning, and Natasha dearly wished to talk to her. She was a different person altogether if she wasn't talking. A lovable mother, dignified...

There was no wood for the fire. She ducked off to the end of the fields. She made do with the carpenter's hedge. She came back to her mother laughing and running.

Her mother was awake. 'What's it?' VaPfocho looked annoyed.

She put the kettle on the fire. It boiled easily with the msasa wood.

'I'm not bathing,' VaPfocho protested when she heard water poured into zinc.

'Who said you're bathing, Mother?'

'You think I don't know you're putting that kettle for me? Don't baby talk me. I said I'm not bathing. That's almost all there is to it.'

'Come on, Mother. Don't be a bother again. You know I have to prepare supper. Besides, you haven't asked me where I have spent my day.'

'Where were you?'

'In the bush cutting timber for the hut.' She waited for the impact. At that time, she expected a physical clap from her.

VaPfocho just stared at her.

'You were telling the truth, Mother.' She added. 'It's not easy to put up a hut. I went into the woods in the morning. I got only two straight poles. Then, I didn't know whether to put the poles on the shoulder or head. And you know what I did?'

All the while her mother was just looking at her, with no sign of emotion. VaPfocho slept on the reed mat, hands under the head. Now, she propped herself up with some difficulty and listened, ears alert as a hare.

Natasha felt her heart move inside her. Today, she was cheerful and healthy. If only I could be able to control my temper, Natasha scolded herself.

'What did you do?'

'I cried out your name, Mother.'

VaPfocho chortled. She fell into vigorous coughs. She stretched and wriggled on the reed mat. Natasha rushed to her side and knelt down next to her. She wrapped her mother in her arms.

VaPfocho showered squirts of mucus on her and herself. When she calmed again, Natasha wiped her mother's breast with her dress.

'Get away,' VaPfocho hissed as soon as she got a supply of air. 'Get away.'

She wasn't polite.

'I was only trying to help,' Natasha retorted. Temper clouded her.

'I was only trying to help,' VaPfocho mimicked.

'Mother!'

'Yea.'

'The water is waiting.' She tactically avoided another row.

She reflected deep as she prepared water for her mother. These ups and downs in her spirits were killing her. She wanted to understand the world from her perception. She needed peace. She was failing.

'Whatever, she'd say to me. Whatever she'd do to me. Whatever happens. I'd be here, loving better than yesterday. All the mistakes are mine. My mother is always right.'

She looked into her faults and realized that her mother wasn't wrong. She was sorry for the burden she had put on her. She noted, and almost got shocked, that almost all of their arguments had always been about whether or not Natasha should do something.

# Chapter 14

The rumour spread like a bushfire that a woman was putting up her own hut. It became common knowledge that Natasha was occupying a hill without permission. Some women Natasha met at the well remarked that it was a bad omen.

A messenger came to tell Natasha and her mother that they were wanted for a hearing at the headman's kraal. Natasha told her mother: she'd dash off and hear what he had to say.

VaPfocho swore by her dead father, that she had no child who'd go anywhere. Asked if this wasn't a breach of contract, she replied she was going to see the headman herself. Natasha feared for the health of her mother. All that walking up and down gullies! On her return she would be in a fit of coughs again. They resolved to go together.

But VaPfocho asked for brew before they left.

They approached the headman's kraal and there before them unfolding like a scene from a cinematic episode were children coming out of the huts and women looking from behind granaries. A couple of girls took them to the higher place where the men were! They took places into direct soil. A girl came with a reed mat too late. VaPfocho sat comfortably into the earth. Natasha stirred and sat in the outskirts of the reed mat.

The headman spoke. 'It's a good thing you came to see me on a short notice. I didn't want to bother you. Indeed as we understand you're not feeling well these days, VaPfocho. Your pain is our pain.'

VaPfocho twisted her mouth into an ugly grin.

'The issue, as you might guess is of the hut you're putting up the hill.' He gestured in the East. He paused and looked timidly at VaPfocho's mouth.

He continued, 'I understand your plight and duty, young girl.' He gazed at Natasha. 'I still find it a bad omen, with all the men around here that you're putting a house on your own like that. I don't want things like that happening here in my land.'

Natasha was approached by a number of the boys. They pointed out she was too old. Really, most of them were just past eighteen. They could do her a favour, they said, and marry her. That way they'd save her from life's awkwardness. A woman needs a man, they said.

One of the boys was the headman's son. No, it wasn't a single one of the headman's boys that approached her, actually. He had a lot of boys, this headman. The headman was simply saying: Natasha get married. Your husband will look after you and your mother. And then she'd get a piece of land. That was the way it was supposed to be done in Tuzuka. You don't waste time here, to build another life somewhere. It's bred here and destroyed here. You build your career inside a man and a string of children.

'Besides,' the headman continued, 'your conduct there is wrong. You're occupying the people's land without permission. You know when it comes to that I'm helpless in defending you.'

'So you're saying I shouldn't put up that hut, Headman?' VaPfocho spoke for the first time. She curled her legs beneath her.

'No, that's not what I'm saying, Grandchild,' he denied vehemently. 'It's up to you to decide to continue or not. But you're both women and a home is put up by a man.'

'So why did you call me here?' VaPfocho insisted.

'So that I could advise you on this problem that you're brewing, Grandchild.'

'Oh yeah, that too. The problem I'm brewing?'

Natasha saw the brew begin to work!

VaPfocho rose, quick as a girl. 'That's not what you're saying, James.' The headman changed into James instantly.

VaPfocho stared into the headman's face.

'What you're saying headman is: I'm a witch.' She pointed at the headman. The headman recoiled.

The headman called to his wives to hold her. For a man shall not hold a wife who's not his! The women rushed at VaPfocho. They stopped as a torrent of words rushed at them, too.

'Yea, I'm a witch. If it weren't for me, people wouldn't die in this land.'

All eyes on her, she walked listlessly around and before them.

'You James,' A finger at the headman again. 'And all your dirty wives tell me: where did you put five children? Five children!. Tell me, where did you put them: five children? It's Pfocho. Fine, it's Pfocho. Today, a human-eating python is found in your granary. Who keeps it there? It's Pfocho again, isn't it? Don't just sit there, tell me. And you James, ever since you came back from Joni, your trunk has never been opened. Twenty years, and it's very closed. Go on, say something. Say, it's Pfocho's.'

Natasha had heard these tales before. Witchcraft and Wizardry, her mother and the headman. It confused her. She didn't want to believe it. It was ridiculous. Yet it raged so loud around her. It was a powerful rift in Tuzuka that would rift the best of relations and friendship. She had never imagined though she'd ever hear it shouted in her face like this, like a Sunday sermon.

Natasha bowed her head in embarrassment.

There was an icy silence when she said it.

She added. 'No one wants me here. Godfrey's wife's death, it was I. Godfrey's child's death it was I. Everything you pile it on me, won't you take some James?'

She stood still in her wake. She glared at the headman.

Unexpectedly, and much to everyone's surprise she started at the buttons of her shirt. She struggled with it only momentarily. The shirt fell to the ground. Her flesh, pale as ashes emerged from it.

'VaPfocho,' wailed the headman as he realized it was the skirt that was coming next.

There was a wave of disapproval. There was commotion. A rush of feet in different directions as everyone tried to be the first to leave the place. The headman mixed with his wives and children as they fled without dignity.

VaPfocho ground her teeth in anger. She scowled. She spat and walked around the place naked.

'Sons and daughters of witches,' she called at their back.

Natasha raised her face. All the while, she had her face bowed. Now, she came to confront her mother and her brutal reality.

VaPfocho shouted all the way back to the carpenter's home. The headman's wives and children followed the soliloquy until it was out of earshot, and told the tale many years after.

# Chapter 15

The two poles she carried were the wrong type. The carpenter saw them as he was going around his fields. He advised her. After a week they will be sagging from their own weight. In a fortnight, termites would be eating the timber. After that, it would take just a small wind to knock them to the ground.

She started to work in dead earnest. She stole tricks from the carpenter's huts. She'd find thorny, hard wood. It was not easy. Firstly, the carpenter's wife was not always not using the sharp panga. And for the supporting wood, the sharp panga wasn't adequate for chopping down the trees. She had to borrow the carpenter's axe. The carpenter had doubts on whether at the end of the day his axe would be as sharp as when she had set out with it.

And it had become so embarrassing for Natasha to borrow anything in those days. It increased her sense of helplessness. And as time progressed, she realized she had to borrow almost everything.

She dug holes onto the hill the headman had forbidden. This was land unoccupied by anybody and in the East of the village. It was a little hilly, too hard and therefore unsuitable for Agriculture. This was the reason people shunned it. But as soon as Natasha put several holes into the ground to mark out the hut, she received several threats from villagers who claimed they were yet to be given this land.

There is no land without a master.

She would trot around the whole globe and she'd still get threats everywhere. She stayed put, sometimes with polite responses. At other times she retorted with her own counter threats. This she kept away from her mother. Despite the show she had put up at the headman's homestead, she wasn't sure whether Natasha was to put up the hut.

Her mother came around where Natasha was putting up the hut. It wasn't genuinely to admire the hut. It was to complain about her empty stomach more often than not. And in these cases, Natasha would dash back home to cook for her. After midday, when the sun was orange in the west she would come to spend a few hours again before she dashed off again to fetch some water in the valley. Cooking would follow in the evening.

Her back ached into the night. She could hardly sleep. Besides her, her mother groaned from the pain. Now and then she'd lumber outside to relieve herself or vomit. Natasha had to monitor her closely. Curses were hurled at her on why she was waking up in the middle of the night if she hurried outside with a calabash of water for her mother to shake the vomit off her mouth. If she didn't, there were more curses on why she hadn't followed her outside. Not surprisingly, the nights were as tiresome as the days she spent putting up the hut.

Asleep, at times an idea would come to her about how she had put a pole in the wrong place. She would discover yet another place in her sleep to get the woods. And when she woke up in the morning, it would be confirmed. At times though, it wasn't the case but all this, she went through and bit and bit, she made progress.

Wadzanai came to see her.

'I can see right through you,' she wailed at her.

Natasha tried to cover her bottom in vain.

'That's not my idea of a good joke.'

'Get away.' She laughed heartily. Her sister descended cautiously. She had already put up a wall of thin entwined thin sticks. Now she was making her Pythagoras on the roof.

'How are you Wadzi?'

Wadzi looked at the crooked roof critically. She shielded her eyes from the blazing afternoon sun with her hand and examined the structure. She exclaimed on several occasions.

'That roof will fall, I tell you sister.' She still remembered to call her sister, Natasha mused as her temper welled. 'This is a cause of concern, I tell you. This roof is going to collapse with mother in there. I suggest you call some men to do it for you. And I don't know, I don't think it's a pretty sight seeing you hanging at the edge of the sky like that with all your insides dangling below you. What about if a man comes along?'

Natasha listened to the long lecture.

'I thought you'd help me put up the roof.'

'How's mother?' Wadzi countered.

Her sister chose a place in the shade. She fanned herself to combat the heat.

'I thought I should just pass by, and see what progress you're making.'

'No, that's very nice.'

'I'm defending you against the whole world. What I hear people say breaks the heart. It's not a good thing being an enemy to the whole village like that.'

'I really don't care what they say, Wadzi. People are people; they can always say what they want.'

'No, it's not that. That's not a problem. But if you have a sister who's bound to you by blood, you expect her to do better than that.'

'I've lost you. Can't you say what you want to say in lesser words?'

Her voice dropped to a conspirator's whisper, 'Yolanda.'

There was an eerie sound in her ears. She feared what her sister might have to say. 'What about her?' Despite herself, there were tremours in her voice.

'Surely, it beats me. But I can't believe what I heard her saying about mother's illness. Not from my sister.'

Natasha was afraid to ask for more. Her heart was so fragile now. It was capable of breaking with another single word.

Wadzanai continued. 'I don't want to believe mother got any disease from anybody who is not father.'

'Wadzanai,' Natasha eventually said. She smacked Wadzanai on the lap.

'It's nothing of my making,' she protested vehemently. 'I'm just restating opinions that are around.'

'I stand on Yolanda's side. She wouldn't have said that.'

'I don't blame you. At times, the most unexpected things happen in life. Anyway, did you bring anything to drink here?' She rose and scanned around. She spotted a calabash around the newly put up wall. She had always known Natasha to put mahewu in it.

'Anything still remaining in there?' She walked across to the wall. Natasha watched her as she paced across the new homestead. She had now passed that moment of bloom. Her legs have grown too big on her. She no longer walked with that elegant swing of girls. Instead there was a tired touch on her. She was gone, Natasha realized again.

Natasha looked at the sun in the west. She had been sitting in the shade. She was feeling hot. The sweat that had plastered on her body now felt itchy on her. She decided she'd go and rest early.

# Chapter 16

It was pure joy to see her hut proud and lonely on a hill from the valley when she came from the well in the setting sun. This was an achievement. Her skin had been scratched. Fats had been burnt off her skin in the searing heat.

One sunny morning, she carried all that they had to their new home. It wasn't much. On the first trip, Natasha carried the reed mat and two blankets. Her mother had a tin and clay pot. Natasha returned alone on the second trip to carry a bucket of maize. It is impossible to imagine the joy this little event brought to her heart.

The hut smelled of fresh cow dung smeared against the floor. The moonlight fell through holes in the walls. Natasha lay awake feeling all the joy of success and freedom. Had they not told her this was impossible? And where now were she and her mother sleeping? She felt free too. The carpenter and his wife had been so helpful. It wasn't fair to burden them again by staying with them considering what the entire world was saying.

She also knew she had to do more than that. She had only brought a bucket of maize. With grace, it'd last them a fortnight. She had to find food. There had been food from Non-Governmental Organizations. It was tough to find these days. It was very difficult to register to get donations: it was even more difficult to get the food. At the very least one had had to have one whom they knew along the chain of distribution.

# Chapter 17

She grew into a beautiful woman. After a year, she had lost all the useless flesh. Her face smoothened. She walked with a quick gait. She hardly ever fell ill. She laughed and smiled a lot. That she did with caution, making sure she never laughed at anyone for the wrong reasons. She loved reading, and usually at night she would lean towards the candle and read the old books and the bible.

1992 would go down in History as one of the worst years in Tuzuka. People waited patiently for rains that never came. Those who were defiant put seed in the ground. The seed never came up. A strong wind buffeted the land. The grass dried up and cattle trampled it. It disappeared completely.

People's fears were confirmed: there would not be enough to eat for the next twelve months. Natasha and her mother found themselves in a difficult situation. The price of maize shot up. That's to say nothing on that it became scarce.

Natasha made counter plans. She fenced a portion at the homestead with thorn bushes. She dug it and started a garden. This was a difficult undertaking, and she had to go into the valley to fetch water to water it.

She made a miracle. After only three months, she was able to start harvesting vegetables from the garden. She added tomatoes to it. Tomatoes attract baboons. The baboons that were often seen roaming miles away paid her a single visit and harvested her four months' work.

Natasha was angry. 'I'll kill those baboons. I'll kill them all, one by one until they are all finished.'

But she didn't slow down there. On the same day, she dug the garden again and put fresh seedlings in the ground. After a month, the tomatoes were ready.

When the baboons came again, Natasha was ready for them. She made a small cage, the size of a man's head. The cage was made of meshed wire, leaving a small opening just to allow a hand into it. And God knows where she found a maize cob. Natasha placed a maize cob in the cage.

She nailed the cage attractively to a tree. She waited. Indeed the baboons came again after three days. Natasha saw them descending from a mountain to reap where they hadn't sown

Just as she had expected, the male baboon saw the maize and it beat everyone else to cage. It forced its hands into the cage. The cob plus the maize, and the hand couldn't come out.

Natasha, brave as a man, came out of her hiding place. She ran like a maniac towards the male baboon, the yellow dress plastering her skin. The other baboons saw the panga shining in the air and ran for dear life shouting abuse. The male baboon, short of ideas, closed its eyes with the other hand still glued to the cob.

Natasha ran toward the baboon still, mercy wasted in the air. The baboon cried as she lifted the panga in the air, a long shrill sound of a young baby, one last begging for mercy. Natasha was adamant. The panga came down fast and sure on the baboon's neck. The baboon gave another sound: this time a slow growl of a defeated bull.

The blood gushed out. It surprised her, blinding her vision with red smoke. It caught her unaware: the colour and smell of blood arousing the lust long forgotten in her. As she lifted the panga again, her breast tightened, painfully blooming to hard knots.

She brought it down in a trance, her loins tightening between her legs. The baboon jerked and spurted. It laughed and cried. She harked at it, until the life was finally driven out of it.

# Chapter 18

It amazed her how they converted the killing into a party. Natasha carried the baboon and hung it from a tree. She skinned it all by herself as VaPfocho watched and ranted besides her. She cut it into small pieces that she spread around the fire.

VaPfocho sat beside the fire, spitting and pulling strands of meat into her mouth. By the evening, they were sitting together beside the fire, drinking and eating the meat.

Beer and the smoke stung their eyes.

VaPfocho looked at the child sitting next to her. No love is greater than that between mother and child. She had tried all her life, not to give her any love. And in most instances, she had been successful. She was set in her ways many times, but she wasn't presented with a lot of choices. Over the years, she had grown in love: you get to be stronger through the lean days. It was confirmed. And if there was anything she had waited for on earth, she knew she had achieved it. As she looked at her daughter and the boundless love she had for her, she knew she had reached her peak. And when you reach this stage, you know you're dying. You can't go any further.

'Natasha, I'm sorry, my child. I kept you here. You were supposed to be somewhere else.'

'Where's that coming from, Mother?' She avoided her eyes. And that was precisely the problem with her child: at times she thought she was too soft for the world.

'You know precisely what I mean: I shall always be grateful.'

'I love you, Mother.'

'I know you do, my child. I hope things will be different tomorrow.'

'I'm not sure that's what I want. I think I'd like to freeze time here. I learnt a lot from this place. I think I'd have been spoiled only too badly if I had stayed in Jo'burg.'

'You'd have to leave this place and find yourself a job and a husband.'

Natasha laughed.

'And why are you laughing?'

'It's difficult finding a job. Worse finding a husband.'

'It won't be. Go to Bulawayo.'

'Bulawayo, you say.'

'Bulawayo, not Harare or Jo'burg. Go to Bulawayo you'll find a job.'

They sat together there talking about all the issues that were hot in their lives. Natasha was tired and after midnight she drifted easily to sleep. VaPfocho still sat beside the fire, singing to herself.

Tomorrow will be a fine day for us

The sun shall shine again Tuzuka

After the blood

And all the unclean blood is gone

Lord, help us again

As we walk this road

Worn out by pain

Into the journey unknown

VaPfocho died in her sleep that night. Natasha woke up at dawn to see her, happy as ever and sitting by the fire. She didn't cry herself. There was no need. She knew her mother had to die somehow. She knew whatever she had wished to accomplish, she had waited for it all. She had endured all the pain: with the patience, counter attacks and in her eyes, she knew her mother was victorious. She covered her easily, and went out quietly to tell the rest of the village that VaPfocho was no more.

# Chapter 19

Her mother was buried on the second day. She had never received so much love like she received on her grave. Wadzanai was there, and so was Yolanda. They leaped and crawled on the ground for their dear mother. They stole the show, even managing to convert the loss solemnly to be theirs.

'Poor, Wadzanai,' people said.

'She has always been her mother's favourite.'

And then an after thing, 'Natasha – the first born who was in Joni,' said a frowning woman looking suspiciously at Natasha.

'The ashes shall go to the ashes,' the priest of the United Church of Christ intoned. 'The dust shall go to the dust.' He sprinkled dust on the body. VaPfocho was a tiny piece of material, so poor, in reeds. Few people could afford coffins here; even then there were always rows on who'd pay. Your sons might have to work in South Africa or Harare to achieve that. VaPfocho was an underachiever.

Death is also a time for reflection.

'Incurable!' spoken with necks tilted. And then came the spitting!

Natasha stumbled into that too. She had ventured into an unwelcome place. Behind the huts, in the bushes the women were there helping themselves. She had to hide until they were through and gone. She couldn't come face to face with them.

People dispersed in the afternoon after lunch.

Natasha found time to talk to Wadzanai. Wadzanai had been crying the loudest. Her eyes were swollen. She was also recovering quickly, too. Natasha wondered how people managed that, actually.

'What're you going to do now, Natasha?'

Wadzanai was looking at her, her chin upturned. The child hung limply in her arms groping for more milk.

'Do what?'

'About everything, since now Mother is...' She fumbled for words. She couldn't think of a word to replace 'dead'.

'I will leave,' she told the truth.

'Leave?'

'I can't stay here the whole of my life. You know that. I've got to find a job.' She liked the effect these words were having on her sister. Everybody was assuming that Natasha was here to stay.

But Wadzanai had her own plans as well.

'It's because...' she ran out of words again. 'I want to come back home.'

It was Natasha's turn to exclaim. 'Why?'

'I can't stay with my husband anymore.'

'But surely, you can't leave when you've got three children already.'

The child was getting bored with the never-ending conversation. She tugged at her mother's nose to attract her attention. Wadzanai held the little hand in her palm. She thrust out her breast at her. The child sucked lustily at it.

'If you can't live with him, I guess you will have to come back home,' she finally said. 'There is no reason you should live with him unless you just want to do so to keep up appearances.'

'No, that's not the point. I actually wanted a place of my own.'

'What's the problem with your husband really?'

'He's beating me up. He's claiming I've got an affair. I've got none. No, that's not the problem either; some woman wants to take my place.' Having known Wadzanai for all this time, the husband was probably correct in alleging she had an affair.

'So you're giving in?'

'Can I move into your house when you leave? The boys don't seem to want me back home. My husband and they are at loggerheads of late.'

'When I leave, of course you can come in. I don't know when I will leave though. I need money. There are some debts that mother and I kept piling. I also need money for the fare.'

'How much do you think you need?'

'A lot of it... two hundred dollars at least.'

'I can give you that.' She appeared impatient. That wasn't surprising. There was a good hut and the garden that Natasha had put up. If she decides to make a good head and sell later, her turnover would be three times more.

'Then it's fine with me.'

'I will bring the money today, in the evening.'

It was dusk now. Natasha surprised herself by rushing home and taking her few belongings down to the river for washing. In two hours, she was through and hanging her yellow floral dress and a pair of cotton shoes on the line. She was looking forward to see her sister again. Wadzanai came in the evening with her luggage: a single bag, and three children.

They slept in the same hut that day. In the morning, Natasha woke early to catch the bus. She waited for three hours. At three o'clock in the morning, she made her journey to Bulawayo.

# Chapter 20

She would spend her life going round in circles. That wasn't impossible. The bus pulled up tiredly at the City Hall in Bulawayo. It was still the same conductor and the same driver who had driven her some five years gone. She found that comforting and appreciated the remote companionship.

The last time she had been here she was a wild dreamy girl. Now, she was a desperate, searching woman. She was less ambitious now. She had grown up and had tempered some of her ambition with some pragmatism.

She strapped her bag on her shoulder. She took exactly the same route she had taken before. It was almost dark. She had to find a place to sleep immediately. She bought a newspaper, the Truth, as she waited for the red robot to change.

She opened the classified adverts. Vacancies? There was nothing on accounting. But there was something on women guards. Minimum qualification was advanced level. No chancers. Vacancies weren't easy to find in Bulawayo, either.

'You know where to find cheap accommodation here?'

The boy who was selling newspapers looked quizzically at her. He had been asked many questions that had nothing to do with newspapers recently. And he didn't like it.

'You can try the Railways,' he said impatiently.

The Railways, she had been there before. She took her way uptown. She walked along Tongogara St. When she came to the 13th Ave, she saw RIM Martial Arts centre.

'RIM Martial Arts?' she said aloud to herself. She wondered where the hell she had heard that name before. It had to do with that guy Sipeyiye. She also recalled Bulawayo was Sipeyiye's first home. She wondered idly if he was in there entertaining a woman.

She passed on and approached the 15th Ave. The boarding house she was shown was broken down and crowded. That didn't bother her. She had been in worse situations before. A place to sleep that was cheap, that would suffice. The last time she had had comfort was two years ago, and she was going to pretend she minded a small bed and a pillow.

She shared the room with five others. The good thing was they each had a bed. The others disappeared just before midnight. They came back in the dawn, reeking of alcohol and men. Natasha understood them very well: jobs were scarce in Bulawayo.

Natasha woke up early. She was the first to use the clotted water out of the pipe. She went out. She came back with a newspaper. It was very much like it was yesterday, only that on Saturdays they seemed to put in less adverts.

At dawn, she went into town.

She spent the whole day moving about Bulawayo. At one time she went to the park. She saw an elderly man who was reading a newspaper. It wasn't the Truth that she was reading. She borrowed the Herald that had its base in Harare. They weren't in need of accountants, either there.

She continued loitering the streets. She returned to the Railways in the afternoon. She kept her bag on her. She wasn't sure what the girls in the hostels might do to it whilst she was away.

She came again to the 13th Ave. This time she actually peered in the lobby when she passed by RIM. There was no one except a coloured girl on the desk. People who are alone are easier to talk to... She turned and passed the lobby again. Of course, she was alone. She entered.

'Can I help you?'

Natasha realized she wasn't supposed to be here. The place was too posy. The girl wrinkled her face. Natasha was just coming from Tuzuka.

Natasha responded in an extremely nasal voice. 'Sure, can I find Sipeyiye here?'

'Sipeyiye?'

'That's what I said.'

She didn't offer her a seat. She dialled on a red phone.

Natasha's heart raced.

'Ok, never mind,' she resigned.

The girl watched her suspiciously as she left.

When Sipeyiye came along, dripping sweat, the coloured girl actually left her desk to point at a curious girl in a yellow cheap dress that was looking for him. Natasha had now crossed the street and was making her progress uptown.

She didn't notice the man she had met two years ago at the Sheraton stalking at her.

# Chapter 21

She moved with the bag strapped on her shoulders. Sipeyiye crossed the road impatiently against a solid row of cars. He followed his prey. He walked a few metres behind her. He wasn't going to risk losing her by staying on the other side of the road.

She moved with a swift gait in her tight cotton shoes. She had on a thin yellow dress, easily swept into the air. She held it unconsciously against the light breeze. From this position, Sipeyiye could see the thick imprint of her knickers against her cocky buttocks.

Natasha...

He was confused. The Natasha he knew, sleek as a snake and lifting legs gracefully on thick piles of carpet, checking into another lavish hotel. The Natasha he had last seen did not totter about on foot around town, but on four wheels. Flashy wheels, for all that he knew. She didn't put on cotton: silk would do better.

She stopped. Sipeyiye also stopped. She looked behind. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her bending to strap herself off her bag. The dress rode up her legs. Nice legs, Sipeyiye noted.

She waited, looking uncertainly in all directions. Sipeyiye also looked behind him. He looked at his watch. He pretended he was a care-not guy. Natasha didn't recognize him. He had put her lover behind the bars. He was probably the cause of all this – cheap gear and all. He wouldn't come in the open and declare himself until he was sure what was going on.

He felt a twang of happiness at the thought that she had been looking for him. But what's that which had made her change her mind and leave before he saw her? Nothing less than that he was a guy and she was a woman.

His heart leapt at this prospect.

She picked up her bag. She crossed the road. Sipeyiye crossed the road. It seemed he was going to cross a lot of them too. No big deal. He would cross mountains, deserts, oceans...He might even try it through the open space to the moon if the need arises.

They were now close to 15th. She stopped, looking up a dilapidated flat uncertainly. She stepped in.

Sipeyiye stopped in front of the building. About it were signposts, all bearing strange names. People here provided a variety of services from knitting, typing, phone shops, hairdressing...

Sipeyiye entered the flat, every second expecting to bump into her. He came to a dull passage. He scampered up some creaky stairs. He saw her in a tiny room, sitting around the door but in his line of vision as he walked along the corridor. The sign above the door read 'Typing Services'.

He waited outside. She came out later with sheets of paper, passing him in the dark without a second glance. Sipeyiye followed her out and back to the street. Now, they circled the building and came to Railway Courts. This time she entered the flats without a second thought.

Sipeyiye pursued her. He was stopped at the door.

'What do you want here?' a man shouted at him. 'These are women's hostels.'

'Women's hostels?' Sipeyiye looked uncertain. 'But you're a man.'

'Get out of here!' the man screamed.

Sipeyiye walked out in a hurry. His quarry was probably renting here. He would take a break. They would be together again first thing in the morning.

Meanwhile, he returned to the Typing Services. He found the Typist on her way out. She would do him the service still, the girl told him. She had an old computer that filled most of the space. On pushing a couple of buttons, it rebooted. Very slowly.

'Good,' Sipeyiye said. 'There is a girl who was here just now. Do you happen to remember what she wanted?'

'About fifteen minutes ago?'

'That's it.'

'She was preparing a CV'

'Have you saved it?'

'I always save everything I work on.'

'You will have me a copy?'

'It's the same charge,' She crinkled her face into a bargaining scowl. 'You see, it's the printing that's expensive. It doesn't cost me a thing to type.'

'You will get the money you want, all right.'

The dot-matrix printer hearing this went do-do-dat beside the monitor.

'Five dollars,' she said, handing him the papers. He squared her. He was immediately engrossed in the CV. Outside, in the setting sun, he looked at it more carefully.

Surname: Chuma

Name: Natasha

Date of Birth: 14 April 1973

Place of birth: Chipinge

Address: 14 Railways, Bulawayo

He went further. Of interest was experience. She had worked as an Accountant at the a Bank in South Africa. The time of service and the year weren't there. Even the time she left. But one thing was for sure: she was no longer at the bank.

He checked his time. 5:37. About the time the editor was supposed to be in the office, doing the last touches before the paper could be printed at eight. He rushed back to the car and left for the Truth.

The deputy editor was there. Sipeyiye asked him to take his duties, giving no particular reason why he was busy today. The deputy editor didn't question him.

Now, Sipeyiye sat behind his desk and retrieved the minister's information from his computer. Words rushed at his monitor. He read them as he had never done before, so engrossed. This was the file he had worked on two years ago.

Was a blessed guy, this one, he mused to himself looking at the former minister in an immaculate suit walking beside the president at State House. But then, Dr. Dumka was now behind bars. Might be there for three years for the misuse of funds.

Sipeyiye was jealous of the guy. In fact, in his own definition, no man was allowed to do better than him. He was mad at men who drove long, shiny and expensive black cars. He didn't like men who could afford international trips. He didn't tolerate men who took all the beautiful women either.

This has been the driving force all his life. Jealousy... And in it, the opportunity for other men to be jealous. He had spearheaded the attack on government officials, until the board was convinced he was the man to lead the paper in its new mission to be the best-selling paper in Zimbabwe.

Now, he was riding high.

He repeated his favourite saying: this part of the world belongs to us.

Poor fella. He looked at the pictures of Dr. Dumka again. By the time you come out, I will be having a house in Khumalo. I will be having a Jaguar. I will be having...he smiled to himself, your girl actually.

# Chapter 22

He heard footsteps in the secretary's room adjoining his office. Nobody came into his office without phoning except Kathy. Kathy was a senior environmental reporter.

'You will talk to me, won't you?' she crooned from the door. She hugged at herself.

'You know I will, honey. How was your day?'

'Fine.' She moved closer to the table. She pushed away a set of books across the table. She perched on it. She faced Sipeyiye, her legs dangling in the air. Sipeyiye had for years had the urge to touch those legs, but he has always refrained. The golden rule for work is you shall not touch. Stay professional.

'It's a good thing you have come,' Sipeyiye droned.

'What's it?' she was receptive to the tone in his voice. She crinkled her face, expecting to hear some bad news. She wasn't bad this Kathy. She would treat you to millions of smiles, and still remain faithful to her husband.

Now, Sipeyiye asked about her husband, 'How's Reuben?'

'He's fine.' She laughed. 'He was also passing his greetings to you.'

Of course, she was lying. Reuben was never to know that he sometimes sat with his woman in the office alone like this so close to darkness at 6:49.

'What's it that you wanted?' she asked.

'A definition.'

'Surely, you have a lot of dictionaries in here.'

'A definition, of course. What's love?'

'What?' she jumped off of the desk. 'Let me try it. It is that feeling that possesses one when you're filled with an uncontrollable want of the other sex.' She was pacing the room listlessly. She waved her hands in the air like a preacher. Sipeyiye couldn't help smiling. 'It's a combination of all the good things: giving, sharing, protection... It is uncountable. It's focused. It's gentle...I could go on the whole day, dear. But you can't love me; you know Reuben would kill you.'

She turned back to the table. 'Ok, don't just shout it yet. Let me guess, you're into some high romance?'

'What about if I give you a little task to do my dear Kathy?'

She had her hand flat on her chest. 'What now? My, are you in the eighth sky after all?'

'You said it.'

'Then I'm jealous,' she pressed her cheek on the backside of her hand.

'Come on, don't be silly,' Sipeyiye snorted, snapping at her hand. He dropped a kiss at her forehead.

He told her his story. She warmed up to it.

'That's tricky,' she sighed when he had finished. 'But then where exactly do I come in?'

'I want to establish contact with that girl. But I don't want to frighten her away by rushing the object of my affection.'

'And what exactly is that?'

'I love that girl, Kathy. Today, what we'll do is this: I will put adverts in the Truth and tomorrow, in all the other papers in the country. The other one would be for the accommodation available. The other one would be for the situations wanted. She would respond to the adverts. You will handle her.'

Kathy began to understand.

# Chapter 23

Dawn touched the tall buildings at the Truth. The morning sun glowed outside. The lights died in the streets. Dawn found Sipeyiye in his office. He acted like a mad man, punching the computer furiously. He would complete today's work before sunrise. And then he and Kathy would go on a little errand.

'On my way,' Kathy phoned to say.

Sipeyiye worked faster. These were top stories he has been trying to restructure overnight. Then he looked at the material that gave him a sleepless night. There was a knock at the door. Kathy entered.

'Good,' he said as he left the desk. He entwined his hand into hers. They went out. 'And where are we going from here?' Kathy enquired. They set out, Kathy coiled up in the bucket seat of the Pajero. She was loud and high.

'Sipeyiye and I are going on a little errand.'

'I can't believe I'm giving you away, honey.'

'I guess I'm going regret all this.'

She talked to herself all the way.

At this point Sipeyiye responded. 'You give Reuben away first, dear love. That's a fair bargain.'

She exclaimed, 'and three children?' She made a face. 'You're mad, Sipeyiye. Raving stinking mad. 'You would think she meant it. They parked outside Frank House.

'You wait here. I'm coming.' Kathy didn't want to be left behind. You don't tell her that, actually. She wanted to know what exactly it was that Sipeyiye and the director of a property rental company would be doing up the tall building. This wasn't a bad thing for the director who loved company. He kept on grinning at the woman.

'What do you want this flat for, Mr Mohyi?' the director after a lift and many doors, two receptionists and a private secretary. 'I understand you've a place at the moment. I can't imagine that you failed to pay rent?'

Sipeyiye laughed. Of course, these guys were in business to let you live in for a fee. He had never imagined himself failing to pay for a roof over his head, though. No, not from the moment they made him the editor of the Truth. Because now, the Truth was selling in millions.

'Somebody will live in it.' He slipped out his chequebook. 'I will cover the expenses. How much?' He scribbled Frank Agents in front of 'Pay To' in his chequebook.

'Six hundred dollars a month.'

In spite of Sipeyiye's need to prove a point, he winked. His bargaining was very poor. He had called for an urgent place. It never occurred to him that the rentals would double

'I will pay two months in advance. Anyway...'

'That's fine. You pay at the Accounts department downstairs.'

'So where's this flat, Frank?'

Frank shipped a form for him to fill across his mahogany desk.

'It's Teddy court. Main and First.'

'Ok,' Sipeyiye accepted a bunch of keys from him. 'Kathy and I are leaving,' he said. He noticed the director steal a glance. 'And while you're at it Frank, Kathy has just been telling me she's married and has three children that she's not going to leave in a hurry. Didn't you, Kathy?' Kathy smiled faintly. The director smiled shyly.

'You're so sexiest,' cooed Kathy in the car, as they drove towards Teddy court.

'I told you to remain behind,' Sipeyiye accused.

Teddy court wasn't the flat Sipeyiye would spend the whole of his life dreaming to live in.

It was unfurnished. The windows, although all of them were still in place, showed the first signs of aging. Doves crooned outside. The windowsills, inaccessible were littered with their droppings.

'We'll clean up and furnish it for our little Natasha,' Kathy volunteered.

'Yeah.'

They went out into the street. They came with a broom, handy- andy, a mop, a bucket, and window cleaner. Soon they were busy. Kathy swept the floor. Sipeyiye followed scrubbing. Kathy thought that was funny. It took them half the day.

They had lunch together at noon. Sipeyiye had his back to the wall. He always did that when he took Kathy out. They left for Sipeyiye's flat, six blocks up the street, and in the 10th Ave. It was nothing very different to Teddy court. But at least in it was a single bed. Very thin mattress. The walls were smart. Furthermore, you wouldn't hear neighbours playing rumba music next door.

Sipeyiye had a single set of sheets. He had a single blanket. He was willing to dispose of his table, cooking stove and his single bed for Teddy Court. Kathy dissuaded him. He would starve. He would catch the flue. And that wouldn't be any good to Natasha.

Sipeyiye laughed.

Kathy got two blankets, a mosquito net, kitchen utensils from her place. Meanwhile, Sipeyiye drove into town and signed cheques on a new stove and a headboard. They met at dusk at Teddy Court.

They didn't always agree on where they should put the headboard. That took them a good part of an hour. The issue was resolved when Kathy said she would scream. Sipeyiye was afraid of being discovered with other men's wives in secret places. He did care too much for the juicy headlines that would appear in the rival papers. He gave in.

They finally managed to arrange the furniture into some order. In the evening, they left for a bar outside town. Sipeyiye was happy to hear Kathy say if her husband would ask where she had been, she would say she had work that ran overtime, and if Reuben had issues with it he was free to call the editor of the Truth. At least, Kathy wasn't an angel. He was dealing with another human being after all.

'To Natasha,' Kathy lifted her glass.

Sipeyiye lifted his, too. Their glasses touched and clinked in the air.

'And Sipeyiye,' she added. 'And for the full life that awaits the two of you.'

Sipeyiye drove Kathy home in the evening. He drove her past the gate and stopped three homes away.

'And Sipeyiye ...take care,' whispered Kathy as she left the car.

'I will, dear. What about meeting you tomorrow morning?'

'And this time I will meet the girl?'

'This time you will meet the girl.'

'But, Sipeyiye...don't phone. I will phone if there is any need.'

Kathy walked the hundred metres back.

Sipeyiye drove home.

# Chapter 24

Sipeyiye glanced at his watch. Past nine! He patted a yawn. Kathy sat beside him on another day. She was talking unceasingly. He was listening and missing a girl at the same time.

They kept an eye in the direction of the Railways Station.

Suddenly, Sipeyiye became very still.

Kathy followed his gaze. A tall woman was leaving the dilapidated building of the Railways lodge station. She had a cheap bag she carried on her shoulder. She picked her way across the road among pieces of paper spiralling in the wind. She came close to the Pajero. She cast a casual glance as she passed by.

Sipeyiye's heart missed a bit.

She walked along. Sipeyiye and Kathy ran short of words as she disappeared behind a corner.

'That's the girl,' Sipeyiye said.

He checked on Kathy.

She wasn't impressed.

'Now, would you follow her, honey?' Reluctantly, Kathy clicked the door open and descended. 'Keep phoning,' he called at her back.

'Excuse me...'

Natasha glanced up. 'Mind if I look at your paper?'

Natasha looked quizzically at the intrusive woman. She was sitting alone in the sun. It might have been within her imagination, but she didn't like the way this woman kept glancing at her. She was homely and motherly looking, though. Her hair was ripped open at the top, giving her a soft look. Her cheeks flashed with pearly, a tone that detracts from the eyes. She wore a long bias cut berry cardigan dress. She had a ring on the second finger, and Natasha immediately confirmed she was a married, harmless woman. The crystal beads around her wrists and neck shone in the sun.

Natasha passed the newspaper to her. The woman flicked through it, seemingly looking for a specific article. She came to the end. She closed it.

She perched herself at the end of the bench.

'Promising to be a good day,' the woman said conversationally.

'Sure.'

She sat there, seemingly short of words. She flicked through the paper again. She came to the end of it. She folded it onto her lap.

'Sometimes, I do come here in the morning. I like this place when there aren't people around.'

'So you don't like me around here, then?' Natasha returned with humour.

'No, dear.' She was looking into her eyes. 'Solitude... it's a good thing, but we all need contact. When I'm sitting here looking at the blue sky, that gives me time for reflections. It's unfortunate the youth of today only have to spend their lives in groups.'

'You've got children?'

'A handful of them. And yourself?'

'No...'

'It's a good time just before you have children. I miss it a lot. It's a time of solitude.'

Silence again.

'So do you stay around town?' she tried again.

'Not really. At Railways.'

'Why, Railways is in town for all that I know.'

'I'm here temporarily.'

'And where's home?'

'Chipinge.'

'Heavens, that's in Zimbabwe.'

'Eastern Highlands. Ndau area.'

'Oh, yes, I know. And if you don't mind, my pestering you...what brings you here?'

'You wanna know the truth?'

'Nothing, but the truth.'

'Looking for a job.'

The woman looked at her sorrowfully.

'Jobs are difficult to find these days. You've got qualifications?'

'Accounting degree. Witswaterand University. South Africa.'

'I know.'

Natasha raised an eyebrow. 'Now, now, don't you think you know too much already?'

The woman waved at her dismissively. 'You'll get a job.'

Her words took Natasha back into the present history. Her mother said the same words. And here she was, exactly the same words being delivered to her in the same somewhat off-handed manner as if work was easy to find.

'What's it, dear?'

'What?' Natasha realized she has betrayed herself. 'Nothing, nothing...' she covered foolishly. 'No,' she said later. 'It's just that my mother said exactly the same words. I mean, exactly the same words.'

'Really? What a coincidence!' Kathy said merrily.

There was an icy silence again. 'Your mother you say...Mothers always have some very funny things to say.'

'You're a philosopher, aren't you?'

'You'd be a good mother if you try, Natasha, won't you?'

'It's frightening being a mother. As you said, youth is a cherished moment we should all defend aggressively.'

Natasha rose dismissively. 'You will mind if I leave you now?'

Kathy rose also. 'Kathy. Kathy Trishma,' she said. 'We hope to meet again, don't we?'

Natasha offered her hand. 'I'm Natasha Chuma. We hope to meet again for sure.' She walked away without glancing back. When she was sure she was out of Kathy's sight, she turned. She could see the woman. She was still in the same place. Later on she glanced in her direction. She obviously wouldn't see her hiding behind shrubs. The woman rose and started towards the road. Her tall frame immediately disappeared in a black Pajero whose doors opened on their own as she approached.

# Chapter 25

Natasha popped into Greens supermarket on her way back to the Railway Station. She bought herself a pint of sour milk for lunch. They provided food at the Railways, but she realized if she were to buy the stew every time, she'd be without any money soon.

In the queue, she met Kathy again. She was grabbing some chips herself. Kathy called it a wonderful coincidence, looking into her face. She added she wasn't busy herself that's why she was just loitering around and buying chips.

Why, she added as they left the supermarket, she would even accompany Natasha to her place. That will give her even more time to kill. As they walked on the pavement, Natasha thought she saw her Pajero parked in the parking slot. She thought, though that would be prying so she shouldn't talk about it.

'I also stayed at the Railways myself at some time,' said Kathy, 'but then the standards were better.'

'Sure.' She was a funny character this Kathy, so comfortable with strangers, thought Natasha. No, she didn't want to believe that. But then she couldn't get hold of an explanation.

'Would you like to come in then, Kathy?'

'I will just pop in and see where you stay. I might want to come see you again. Won't that be wonderful?'

'I will sure like that.'

They crept into the hostels. The other girls were all there walking about naked except for their underwear. Natasha could see Kathy looking at them with distaste.

When Natasha accompanied her to the gate, she asked, 'Wouldn't you like a place of your own Natasha?'

'I would, of course. As I rightfully pointed out, my dear Kathy, I'm looking for a job. If I'm successful on that, I might start talking about a house. How am I supposed to pay for it; I haven't got any money at the moment?'

'I understand you, dear. What about if I find you a place? You will pay me when you get a job.'

'That is too generous, don't you think?'

'It's not. It's rational.'

'But I might never be able to find a job, you notice?'

'I've minded that, already'

'Let me think about it. Where's this place that you talk about?'

'I will try finding something in town so that you can still visit the park when you wish.' Kathy grinned at this.

'That's ok with me. You know I'm really grateful for his, Kathy. Now, I want to ask you a question.'

'Fire off.'

'What about if I don't want this flat, Kathy? What about if I don't trust strangers who crowd my life so quickly?'

'Don't you mind about that, dear. I'm telling you this: you will occupy this flat in the 1stAve. The place is Teddy. The No. is 10. And what more...' She fished something from her pockets. It turned out to be a bunch of keys.

'There are the keys.' She thrust them in Natasha's reluctant hand.

Natasha turned around without another word. In her ears, she heard the word Teddy Court ringing again and again. She just put the keys into her tattered bag and drifted to sleep except that she didn't sleep. It was midnight that she thought, in addition a tattered bag and one lone dress; she has been through a lot to face anything. She asked the first girl to come back to the lodge where exactly Teddy flat was.

# Chapter 26

Sunrise saw her pacing down towards Teddy Court. She got up the stairs confidently. She managed even to say good morning to the couple she met up the stairs.

She knocked at No. 10. There was no response. She tried the door. It was locked. She keyed in the key. The door opened. There were a few chairs round a wood table in the lounge. The floor was neatly swept in spite of that it was aged. She proceeded straight to the passage. All the doors were open.

She got into the bedroom and sat on a double bed. It felt so new on her skin. She began to go through the directory. She found what she wanted and it was Trishma. A male voice answered at the other end. She asked to speak to Kathy.

She came on the phone. She was told it was Natasha and her flat was occupied. Kathy was glad. She promised to turn up later on the day to see if Natasha was well provided for. That suited Natasha and she said she would be waiting all day. Kathy thanked her and told her she was now beginning to think.

At dusk Kathy turned up at Teddy.

Natasha had now the opportunity to find answers to all the questions she hadn't been able to ask on the previous day.

'Kathy, you can't just give me this place. Tell me, what exactly you want?'

Kathy replied, 'I repeat, nothing. I'm lying: I want to see you're well provided for.'

'That's a shallow answer, and you know it.'

'Whatever you want to think... Is there anything else I can do for you today?'

'No, but remember this. Whether, you're genuine or cheating, I will be praying for you all the time. I will pray that, now and forever, God blesses you.'

Teardrops fell out of her eyes.

'That's nice of you. But don't you begin to talk about that. I'm only a woman with children and a husband. My heart breaks when you talk to me like that.'

Kathy rose and walked off to the kitchen. 'Can we make ourselves some coffee, dear?' She plugged on the electric jug. Natasha followed her to the kitchen and sat on a chair.

'I'm sorry; Kathy, but I don't really know you. Are you married? And God, you're always boasting of your children. How many are they?'

'A bunch of them my dear Natasha: three. If they were in here, one of them would be bathing in the kitchen sink. The other one would be spilling water on the floor. The third one would be scalding himself with hot water. I really don't know what to do with them.'

'And what do you do for a living?'

'I'm an environmental reporter and a damn good one too.'

'See, I told you you're always boasting.'

Despite the joke, Natasha could hear her blood pumping to the ears. 'There is only one paper here. I guess you work at the Truth.'

'You're right, I work at the Truth.'

'You know Sipeyiye?'

'Yeah, the Editor.' And then, 'Why should you scowl like that? Anything the matter?'

'Nothing Kathy, it's just I know him as well.'

'It's all right. I shall not ask where and how you have known him. Some other people have accused me of knowing too much already, you understand?'

Despite herself, Natasha managed to laugh.

'I didn't say, Kathy. Oh, my, you know you're never friendly. Come on, tell me of this monster, Sipeyiye. When did they make him the Editor?'

'He has been there for a year now. And he thinks that's all that matters in the world.'

'Of course, I know him. He's very rough. Likes rough talk and crude humour?'

'Is that so?'

'Yeah, and where's he staying now?'

'I'm not sure. I'm told he has a flat in town. They want to throw him out because he doesn't always pay his bills in time. I talked to him on this other day. He said he doesn't mind because he will be moving into a double storey in Khumalo soon.'

The two women were deeply engrossed in their conversation. The kettle began to sing.

# Chapter 27

Natasha began to lose hope that she would ever find a job. Kathy came to see her as much as she could. At times they went together into town, to the park and that helped her to unwind. Day after day, she read the classified adverts to no avail.

Her money only lasted her a fortnight. Kathy helped her with money. She always tried to give it to her indirectly, but Natasha was by now getting a little embarrassed. She began to avoid her as much as she could.

Natasha began to take solace in drinking. She drank the brew from cheap beer halls. On this day, she was already there when the Sun City opened at nine in the morning. Kathy had, for several days, tried to look Natasha up at her place but found her absent. Natasha had not mentioned to Kathy that was sometimes drank. Kathy was a motherly woman. Natasha was sure that Kathy wouldn't approve of it.

She noticed a few individuals casting knowing glances at her as she walked into the blasting music. She bought herself the brew and sat alone at a vacant table. Natasha had no problem with beer. She could drink for 24 hours straight. That was outside the norm of what was expected of women. The difference with other women was that she would always find her way back home.

She gulped at her drink for about an hour. A couple of men came to speak to her. They always found it hard to believe she was a saint despite coming to this place. But she liked some of them too, in their dirty overalls, men who talked of an increasingly difficult life in Zimbabwe and their countless children without making sexual advances.

In the afternoon, she carried two pints of lager to her flat. She hoped Kathy wouldn't turn up. As she clambered up the stairs, she could feel her knees were weak and her body was pleasurably hot. That was what she loved about beer. She was going to lie down now and never wake up. To hell with the job, wasn't life good just like this?

The phone was wailing as she entered. She rushed to it.

It was the human resource manager at one of the branches of Old Mutual. He wanted to know if she could turn up for an interview.

Natasha asked him, 'Which Interview?'

'We're phoning in connection with the CV you left with us. We're glad to announce you're one of the candidates that we'll be interviewing tomorrow.'

Natasha came short of saying she had never left a CV at Old Mutual.' She remembered in turn that she had had one too many.

'Thank you so much. I will turn up tomorrow.'

As the words sang into her heard, she tried to recall the day she had left a CV at Old Mutual. She couldn't recall the day. She couldn't recall ever giving anybody her number either. She toyed with the idea of phoning back and asking them if they had phoned the right person. She decided that that would the dumbest thing to do when you're looking for a job.

She immediately took control and forgot about drunk. She washed the reek of alcohol off her single dress. After that she put it on the line on the veranda. She polished her shoes until they were glossy.

Essential chores done, Natasha lay on the bed in her bra and panties and tried to think. She woke up at sundown. She was now convinced she had never sent a CV to Old Mutual.

'God, let your wish be fulfilled. I don't pray for a job. There are many women without jobs than those with and life has gone on. There are thousands of people without a roof over their head. I have a place to lay my head, and I don't even know where it came from. If I deserve it, I know I will get the job.'

She thought of phoning Kathy. That didn't appear very intelligent. She dreaded having to explain if things didn't go very well for her next day.

Then the interview came.

Nobody spoke to anyone. Everybody thought the other might get the job ahead of them if they shared ideas. At the front there was a young woman of about twenty-five. She had a mop of hair on her forehead. She was inappropriately dressed in soft-spandex blend fleeces. Men would find it difficult though to keep their eyes from the mesh lace bust. She clutched at her envelope and looked intently at the wall.

The girl in the middle was white. This one would be using her colour to push through. She was huge with well-defined cheek bones. She had on a sling back on her feet with points but no details. Her jacket had horizontal Satin stripes. The sleeveless skirt featured a scoop neck. If Natasha had wanted to talk she would have talked to this one.

Natasha realized that all that they talk about in books did not always work. Just go for an interview and hear what they ask. After all the questions they ask in South Africa are different from here.

A smartly-dressed woman came to the door to announce. 'Can Elizabeth Cook come in?'

The while girl smiled broadly. She paced gracefully towards the room leaving a trail of Cologne in the air. She came out fifteen minutes later, not smiling and in quick angry strides. Natasha watched her disappearing at the end of the passage and hoped she wouldn't come out like that.

Next was a girl called Carol. This girl was not so sure of herself. She clutched at her envelope nervously. Natasha's guess was that this was her first interview. She didn't come out in fifteen minutes. Natasha began to fear they might have given her a job already. She began to wonder if she shouldn't actually peer in and see what was happening.

'Natasha. Natasha Suma,' the smartly- dressed woman called out Carol was leaving.

'Thank you,' said Natasha. 'It's Chuma, actually.' The woman smiled. She tried it again and came with another name. Natasha corrected her. When she came up with Tahoma Natasha gave in and said that was right.

Three men and another woman sat behind an informal pewter table. Natasha was ushered into an empty seat. She remembered to shake hands before she sat down. After that she sat down in the plum chair. The table had a distressed finish and twisted frame design. Natasha joined her hands together and entwined her fingers into each other. She waited for her first question.

'Your surname is so difficult to pronounce.' The woman at the table laughed. Which language is this?'

'Zulu, Ndau, and Ndebele I guess all that is correct.'

'You have never cared to know who you're?'

Natasha's voice turned serious. 'I did in many ways. But I haven't really been bothered about tribes. I guess that is correct too, because knowing yourself goes beyond tribes. As it is now, knowing that I'm a crossbreed of Ndebele, Zulu and Ndau is enough.'

'Good, tell us about yourself,' asked the first man. The woman who had asked her a question was scribbling something in her book.

The name, they already know. That will be redundant. 'I'm the first child in a family of three. I grew up in a...' Rural, she debated? That sounded rather primitive. She thought quickly. 'I grew up in a country home. I attended my junior school at Tuzuka.' Tuzuka was nasal and it sounded uptown enough.

'I did my high school at Tuzuka High.' Most people she knew would have said Secondary School. 'I got a sponsorship to study accounts in Jo'burg where I later worked for a major bank. I had to come back and attend to my mother who was ill here.' She had skipped a lot of detail on dates and numbers. She hoped they would not ask her how many months she had worked at the bank and how many years she had been sitting at home. 'In short that is me,' she added.

She toyed with the tips of her fingers.

'If you had a choice, you will return to South Africa?'

'I used to have that idea. But now that I have come here, I now appreciate a lot about my home. To put it in other words, I'm home-bound.'

'That says a lot,' chirped in the other man. 'You must be very close to your mother?'

Natasha digested this one quickly. She did not wish to invite sympathy by openly declaring that she had had some difficult time and her mother was now late.

She tried something mild. 'I guess you're right. We all get to be very close in times of pain, and discover a lot about each other that we didn't realize in separate lives. She's a great woman and my hero, you're right.'

'And to take you back a little, what exactly were you doing at the bank?'

Natasha consulted her university notes. She hadn't really done anything.

'I prepared budgets. I was also the responsible user of the system we were using and I reported to the Finance Manager.'

'You must have been a great loss to the bank then?'

'Probably, but I'm not the only person who was using the bank's ICT system. There were many others who were good at it as well.'

'Ok, Natasha say we offer you a vacancy here, how much money would you want?'

She wasn't supposed to say something too high. Of course every company is conservative. She wasn't supposed to say something too low either. That would make her appear too desperate.

'I am looking at two thousand dollars a month.' She said without hesitation. Accountants are not allowed to fidget with figures. They can either take it or leave it.

'And the benefits?'

'A car, pension, a house and medical coverage.'

'Thank you, Ms Natasha,' the woman said. 'Can we reach you in three days?' She was quick to add. 'Don't contact us, we'll contact you.'

# Chapter 28

She had stayed at the apartment for a month. The postman began to know her. She was waiting for him as he put his bike against the wall and came about with a bunch of letters. He didn't put anything in letter box 10. And despite that Natasha was standing right beside him as he muttered and dropped letters in the letterboxes, when he peered over his shoulder as he drove away he actually saw the same woman opening letter box 10.

'You're the unbelieving Thomas Ms,' he called.

'And you're an unfaithful messenger,' she called. 'Where's my letter?'

The next day, the postman saw her hiding behind the stairways. 'I have eyes like a hawk, Lady Thomas.'

'Don't you continue calling me that, you short man.' He was indeed short.

'I might be short, but I tell you what, I brought your letter,' he announced.

The letter was immediately swept from his hand. Then he had to watch the woman helpless with joy.

'Oh Ms if you don't know what to do, hug me.' The short man stretched his hands.

'I would have tried, short man, if you were taller.' Natasha shouted back at him.

Natasha climbed quickly up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. She called when she was on top. 'And don't forget to come for tea tomorrow.' A friendly gesture...

'I will be right here at the same time. Instead of hiding behind stairs, prepare me some good tea. This bike works on tea.'

Natasha dialled Kathy straightaway.

'Kathy, I'm so happy. I found a job.'

'That's beautiful. I've known you would get a job. Where's this, and what's the job title?'

'Accountant, Old Mutual.'

'Wonderful. Can I come over right there?'

'Of course, dear Kathy. Come let's celebrate.'

Kathy turned up in half an hour.

'I never applied for Old Mutual,' Natasha burst as Kathy walked in.

'Really?'

'I'm confused. Confused and happy.'

# Chapter 29

Natasha was home sick. On her first pay out, she was already trying to find an excuse to go back home. But at the end of the month, she realized she had so many things to do that she couldn't even spare a hundred dollars to go home.

By payday, Natasha had a credit account at Myles. She felt she was obliged to move out of the flat. When the month was over, she wrote a cheque to Kathy. When she presented it, Kathy said she was never going to deposit it. And she never did.

A week after payday Natasha moved out of Teddy Court. She didn't have much, but she had now managed to tear her yellow dress into a mop.

She wasn't feeling very bad about it. She spoiled herself at Myles.

She moved into a flat at Ascot. Suitable for a single lady, ran the advert in the Truth. When she got there, she realized the place could accommodate three people even. The room was empty, spacious and airy. She was able to get a bed on her newly-opened account at Myles.

# Chapter 30

The retreat at the Riverside Hotel was most welcome. It was a break from the monotonous work. Natasha looked forward to this grand social gathering. She'd also do with a new wardrobe. Three dresses for the two days. She picked a sheer layered dress from a place in the centre of town. At Collection Prive, she bought herself a matching turquoise suede pair of sandals and a chiffon dress.

Having slept for the whole day, she woke up to shower at four in the evening. She put on an embroidered chiffon dress with black and gold braided bodice. She touched her lips with a faint margin of lip Lacquer. She had her hair styled with a chop of short unfinished edges. A dignified touch of messy. It gave her a teenage illusion.

She wasted time on a chilled watermelon cocktail. It got her into a warm expectant mood.

There was a knock at the door. A man in uniform was the door when she opened it..

'Ms Natasha.' He grimaced at a paper. 'I'm supposed to drive you to Riverside Hotel.'

'I'm finished actually. I don't suppose we have met before. Who sent you here?'

'I don't know the name of the man.' He stomped on his boots impatiently. 'It will be very inconsiderate of you to send me away though. He has already paid.' A pleading scowl already.

'That's fine.' So considerate of Old Mutual to send her a car. A car for everybody. How many cars, and surprises? Twenty-five, plus...

'You've got luggage?' he asked.

'A small monarch.' She pulled the door open. He trudged in.

'Sit down. Let me take it.'

When she came back, he was standing. He relieved her of the monarch.

There was a lone car in the parking bay. Dimly lit by the streetlight, the car was a soft glow on a light day. The driver hustled ahead to place her bag on its tail fish in time to hold the door as she approached. She settled in the back seat. The Hyundai supported her spinally. She stretched her legs onto the roomy space. A touch of light on them, they were round and lustrous. She reached for her fluffy brown bag next to her. She wanted to phone... whoever it was that had organized this transport. Some women were too beautiful to be sent for and driven unaccompanied on a night like this. How many people could resist her? If this man wasn't a saint, he would surely be sitting here at the back with me by now, she was thinking.

On a more serious note, the question she would have wanted to ask was: who has sent this driver? Not now of course. She loosened her grip on the bag. It was too rude with them having carried bags and held doors for her.

There was nothing to fear. The car was already negotiating homely-lit driveways. Neon light burnt ahead of them, in outrageous blue: Riverside Hotel.

The driver helped her carry the bag when she disembarked. She wanted to give him a tip. He disappeared as she searched for small monies in her wallets. She yelled at his back. Another man was already hurling her bag on his shoulder.

'Ms Chuma?' he asked. He was also in uniform.

'Sure. But why don't you leave my bag, man? I have seen too many uniforms and sleek cars today. It's beginning to frighten me.'

They stepped onto the lush carpet in the lobby. Curiously warm in here. She tried to speak to the Receptionist. The man who was carrying her bag just hustled along. It appeared as if it wasn't necessary to ask directions from the lady behind the desk.

'I will take you to your room,' he said. They waited for the lift.

He left her at the door to the room. Natasha was quick this time. The man recoiled from her money. He called it an insult, and more. 'I've already received my money,' he explained.

The room wasn't locked.

She dumped her bag on the double bed. How can they give her a room without keys? She made straight for the phone. A stylish, immobile and cordless handset at the end of the room...There was a paper on the side table. She glanced at it casually. Vocational plan. She picked the directory.

She lifted the receiver. Then, she thought she heard a shower running in the room. She turned. It was from the bathroom, actually. Even worse! The man had led her to the wrong room.

'I should have known that he was too clever.'

At the end of the bed was a male diesel watch, she realized again.

She rose. She pressed her ears to the keyhole. Confirmed. There was someone bathing in there.

'Who's in there?' she called.

The shower stopped. And then, 'Sipeyiye.'

She didn't want to believe what she was hearing. She yelled again, 'Sipeyiye who?'

'Sipeyiye Mohyi.'

She walked across the lush carpet slowly, now more sure of herself. She perched herself at the end of the bed. She rested her laps on the elbow. The dress fell gracefully in the curves of her laps. She waited patiently for him to come out.

# Chapter 31

Sipeyiye took his time. His heart beat acutely. He eventually came out, though. Natasha was sitting on the edge of the bed, composed. Her eyes didn't follow him as he walked across the room. He crossed her line of vision. She's as still as a grave, he thought.

'Well, how are you?' he asked.

No answer. Her eyes took up his. He rolled his martial art suit. He put on vaseline.

'I'm fine.'

Sipeyiye almost panicked when he heard her speak.

'You like parties?' he asked comically. He smiled wryly at her.

'Sure, I do' She said it slowly. Very slowly.

He laughed raucously. He slumped himself on the quilts. He quickly checked himself. He grabbed the phone.

'Two cups of coffee. And if you can still make it, curried fish cakes as well.' He said in the phone.

He picked up his Chinese suit from the built in wardrobe. He crossed the room, and pulled on an ironing board. As he waited for the iron to heat up so that he would iron his trousers, he said, 'I sent a taxi. Reasoned you might need it.'

'Thanks.' Her teeth were clenched. From his vintage point, Sipeyiye had the advantage of observing her without being observed himself.

'And you sent the potter to carry my luggage too.'

'Reasoned you might not be able to carry your own bag, too. Am a genius myself, see?' He smiled again, pretending to mock her.

'No that's not all,' she insisted, 'You found me a flat.'

'Of course.'

'You found me a job.'

'I did.'

She rose. She nearly matched his height. 'And now you want your pound of flesh, no mistake?' And then Sipeyiye didn't know what to say to that one.

'I repeat, Sipeyiye, what do you want from me?'

Sipeyiye was relieved by the knock at the door. He intercepted the tray as it came in. He put it on the table. He pulled the table close to her.

'There, I'm a gentleman,' he offered. 'I don't know what you're on about at. I hope we never fight over this again.'

'Go ahead, and have your coffee, Sipeyiye. I'm out of this place.'

She rose ceremoniously. She left. A faint clip of the door. Sipeyiye looking at the damn door. He picked the phone.

'A girl wants to change rooms,' he said in the mouthpiece. 'Tell her all the rooms are occupied.'

The woman on the end protested. 'Who're you?'

'The editor of the Truth. And in case you still want to come to work tomorrow, you will do what I tell you.' He felt sorry to speak to a woman like that. He added, and cheated. 'My wife is running away from me. A small squabble. She's just in one of her moods. I'm just not about to let her embarrass me on a big party like this.' The woman laughed infectiously. He was relieved. He smiled.

He looked at his watch. 8:15. Good, he will be thirty minutes late. What do they call it? Fashionably late. But his eyes caught the tray at the table. He settled down to eat. He ate the two shares. Not that he hadn't called for room service when he checked in at 4. When he left, he was worse than someone hungry.

He got into the hall at 8:50. Everyone was settled. He made a point of making sure everyone would see him. Dolly Parton was playing. The easy beat of Tomorrow's Forever wafted into the air. There was a tidal wave of Mr. Sipeyiye. They had reserved his place where he wanted it.

The centre of the room had been cleared for quicksteps. Two-gether. Black dinner jackets and bow ties. Silk and high pointed shoes. All a far cry from his Chinese suit. Others sat at round marble tables, swirling vodka, Amarula cream and champagne...Old Mutual was fifty. And we made it to the top. His journalists and cameramen were snug at a front table doing their job. Taking little of the drink and dance. More pictures and words.

He spotted Natasha. There goes his heart again. Stop it, he told himself.

'Your seat there, Mr. Sipeyiye,' a lady said. Sipeyiye knew where his seat was supposed to be. He crossed the room amidst chants of Mr. Sipeyiye. Good party, this...he admitted. He liked this movie star thing. They will probably find a place at the first page of the Truth.

And then he bowed and planted a kiss at Natasha's brow.

'Dear,' he said. There was horror in her eyes. But then this was a respectable party. You don't want to act as if you're only coming from, he recalled the CV, Chipinge.

'I'm sorry, I'm late.' Opposite them set another couple. Sipeyiye couldn't make out. The wife wasn't bad. He offered his hand. The wife braced it eagerly.

'Mr Sipeyiye, we were beginning to fear you might not turn up,' she said.

'You should have known that's highly unlikely. I've got an errand here.'

'How're you, sir?' He bowed to the man. He took the man's hand. It was less enthusiastic. Sipeyiye shook him vigorously.

'Are you the Director?' He stole a glance at Natasha. If she'd have her way, she'd go, and probably wipe his kiss imprint on her forehead.

'Actuarial Scientist, actuall,' he said haughtily. Sipeyiye wasn't impressed. If he had come before the Age gone by, he was to earn more than the Director. Now they were working as Accountants' Assistants.

'I tell you what, Mr Sipeyiye? This is going to be a great party.' He said.

There came many others, hovering over their table. Each time Sipeyiye would make sure. 'There, my fiancé. If it wasn't for her I wouldn't be here today.'

Natasha wasn't left with a lot of options, but to shake hands with each of them. But with time she thought it had become too much.

She said her thanks to the actuarial scientist who was still enjoying his party. The actuarial scientist looked shocked.

'What's it?' he asked. He liked company.

'Nothing serious,' she said. 'A headache.'

'She probably needs some looking into,' the wife. Sipeyiye immediately knew how most actuarial scientists spend their hard earned money: on their wives.

'No,' Natasha objected. 'Some lying down will do. And you guys, let me not spoil this for you.'

She rose and left. No word to Sipeyiye.

'Mr. actuarial scientist, see you tomorrow if the champagne doesn't destroy you.' He realized he didn't know his name. It was too late to ask. The woman laughed with gusto. The man flinched.

Sipeyiye followed upstairs. His heart was beating again. Too much adrenaline! He got upstairs to their room. 'Our room,' he muttered.

Natasha was hurling a bag out. They were supposed to knock into each other. Lucky enough, Sipeyiye didn't have an anger to match her's.

'May I know where you're going? At least I will be able to explain in case something happens.'

She carried her bag. She waited for him to clear out of the doorway. A full grown up girl. Spilling breasts heaving up and down. Translucent lips, ripe and ready. Faint make-up on the face, the pretty woman shining through.

It wasn't that either he liked best. It was the young face and the maturity in the face. It was the defiance in her. The refusal to respect authority when it was there. It increased the price and the will. Not that either. He wanted a mother. He needed a shepherd for his soul. Many questions crossed his mind. Earnest questions like, where was I?

On second thoughts he left the door. He followed her to the lift. They waited as it clipped up. 6...4...3. A drunken couple descended. Natasha talked to them. He held the button. Sipeyiye kept quiet until a couple had disembarked from the lift. He said, 'I've already talked to the administration. They're just short of rooms here.'

'I'm not looking for any rooms.'

'Wherever you're leaving to Ms Natasha. Let me just make sure.'

They emerged at the lobby to the horror of the receptionist. She stared at them without a word. People don't leave hotels in the evening. The best they can do is to check in.

A strong wind buffeted them at the door. Sipeyiye protested. 'We'd catch cold here.'

'Who asked you to follow?'

They walked together on the dimly lit driveway. Once a guard met them on the way.

'Who's it?' he roared.

'We want to meet the road there,' Sipeyiye replied. The guard's temper cooled when he saw the woman.

He was happy when he saw the relief on Natasha's face. Now they continued walking. He wanted to walk close, but there was this bag between. Once he thought of changing sides, but he was afraid to behave as a teenager. And there wasn't the least chance that he would be allowed to carry the bag.

Now they had come to the road. They crossed it and waited on the other side. Sipeyiye willed no car to come. He was afraid a car would come. No car came. The road was engraved on the steep slope. Just behind them a deep valley showed. And there was the thick smell of urine around them. Mosquitoes buzzed around them. Each time a fly landed on him, Sipeyiye would stomp exaggeratedly.

'Too many mosquitoes here,' he yelled. 'I will go back.' He knew Natasha was afraid. A lady has got to be afraid. 'I'm going,' he said again. 'Come, I will carry the bag. I was lying I will find another place. It's dangerous here.' There was more reasoning in his voice. He didn't wait for an opinion. He just snatched the bag and crossed the road. There was faint protest of, 'My bag. Please bring my bag.'

But he was relieved to see her follow. He went back to the hotel. She trailed behind. He was confident too that the cold was biting into her, because he was beginning to feel it himself.

They came back at the lobby. The girl at the switchboard was overwhelmed. Sipeyiye said a flirting good evening as he passed. She smiled back. He was disappointed when Natasha's expression didn't change.

# Chapter 32

They came back to where they had started.

Sipeyiye neatly put the bag in the locker and locked. Natasha crossed the room and settled in the settee.

'I will talk to Kathy,' Sipeyiye suddenly blurted.

'There are things I can't understand here,' Natasha suddenly said. She was restless.

'I guess you're not alone in that.' Sipeyiye answered.

Sipeyiye grabbed the phone by the mouthpiece. 'Look here, I'm the last person who should be doing this to you. But feelings overpower us. And I can't just pretend there is nothing I'm feeling for the rest of my life.'

'You've got feeling, that goes beyond having people arrested, Sipeyiye?'

'Love is a strong emotion.'

'And what do you know about love?'

'That I love you, that's all.'

'You're proposing, aren't you?'

'At least, I'm beginning to get to you.'

'You're not. And right now, I'm leaving.'

Sipeyiye sprang across the room. He seized her hand. She struggled, tiny and weak in the strong grip.

'I will have you arrested for indecent assault, Mr. Mohyi. I will scream.'

'Go ahead and scream.'

'If I were you, I would stop joking. I can ring the police, Sipeyiye.'

He dragged her across the room. 'I will phone the police. You will tell them I love you, that's right?'

'I've told you, you abuse that word.'

He picked the phone. 'Police!' he shouted in the mouthpiece. Then gently,' Natasha would like to speak to you.'

He handed the phone to her. She recoiled from it. He thrust it in her hand. 'There, won't you speak to your dear friend?'

She took it lamely. "Actually...Actually,' she fluttered lamely. 'It was nothing really. I will hang up.'

'What?' she screamed. She thrust the earpiece close to the ears.

'I never knew that was you. He never said. How're you Kathy?'

She listened. She smiled.

'Really?' She was still stiff.

'Thanks, hey. I think you want an explanation of what is happening here.'

'I will tell you. Sipeyiye is sitting on the bed. He is wearing his wonderful suit. He has now turned around to look at me. I guess he's happy. Tell you what: he's smiling? Goodnight, Katharine.'

She hung up.

'Well.' She crossed the room. She sat in the settee.

'What did she say?'

'She said we too aren't going to smile for the rest of our lives. She's speaking from experience.'

'That's a lie. Of course we'll. What do you think?'

'We got an option. We smile now, and cry tomorrow. Or we never smile at each other again. In that case, we'll both and understand and you will leave this place now.'

'I don't understand you.'

'The circumstances we're meeting are wrong. I wish us to both understand that it's impossible. The night that surrounds the plush bed might suggest we do. We can't. We'll play ourselves cheap. And when the light shines here tomorrow, we might realize behind us, there might have been nights darker than today. It's not only on this bed that you have made people sleep, Sipeyiye. You have also made it for Chikurubi - dungeon and hard ground. That possibility, pleasure and pain, side by side, scares me.'

'I will take your points one by one.' Sipeyiye crossed the room. He sat on the armchair. Natasha occupied the other end. 'One, Dumka. Two, Dumka Three, Dumka. And why won't I tell you the truth?'

'What?'

'That was all because of you.'

'Impossible.' Natasha gushed out.

'When we met first time, you were already in it. And I guess you were already vying for the Editor. It's your politics, you men. And please don't let it include me.'

'Dumka was a good guy. He had enough money. Oh yes, he was willing to spend it, too. Was...'

'That's blackmail. Talk of yourself. I hate people who try to make move by using other people.'

'It's not everything that you hate that won't do. Neither is it that everything that you love, will happen. No, what I meant is, it's not every time that people say when they are in love. And right now from the way you look at me I know you love me.'

Natasha shied away. She directed her gaze to the ground.

'At least you're beginning to prove to me that you're a woman. And Natasha, do you know what time it is now?'

She cast a glance at her watch.

'What's it?'

No answer. He took the unresisting wrist into his hand. The hand was thin, but firm.

'11:45!' He shifted and sat in another settee. His heart raced. 'I don't think we're going to find any lift to town. Not now, and never.'

'What makes you believe that?' She was a little unsure of his proximity. The eyes betrayed her.

'The reason is I'm sitting here. I think I'm the happiest man in the world. I would like to freeze time. I don't care for another life, even after death. I want to stay here at your side and listen to your heartbeat. That's a reassurance. Even a confirmation. The world is real. God loves me.'

'Can you feel my heartbeat, for sure?'

'I can, and it beats in unison with mine. I've had it every day of my life. I just didn't know it was yours.'

'What about if you're lying to me, Sipeyiye?'

He looked at her with naked curiosity. 'Hearts support life. It's hearts that bring us here today. I quote, "'For God so loved the world that he gave his only son that whoever believes in him shall not perish."'

'That's the Bible you're quoting, Sipeyiye.'

'At the right time, too.' She was looking the other side. He stole inches across the settee.

'Now there's something I want to know.'

'What?'

'Where did you get this beautiful body, Natasha?'

'Beauty is a complex subject. It lies in the eyes of the beholder. And the other thing I have learned to believe: never believe a man when he says you got a good body when you got six walls right around you. They lie. At their best they will be making advances.'

'There you go again!'

'The beauty of the body is very deceiving when you have had a good party, and when you nudge across the sofa like that.'

'You're difficult, aren't you?'

'I prefer impossible.'

'And right now. What's it: heartbeats? No, heart attacks. It will save us heart attacks both if you move back to where you were sitting.'

'I want to sleep on that lap. I'm tired, and what time is it again?'

'You will look at the time. Don't strangle my wrist again.'

'Heart attack?'

'Stupid.' She stretched her hand at him. It was 3:20. 'But honestly there is something I want to know,' she said. There was alarm in her voice.

'Go ahead.'

'Why do people get tired of loving after some time? Don't you think it's a bad scenario if say you put all your efforts into loving somebody, only to realize that the person isn't what you were dreaming?'

'That's stupid. And right now, I'm fighting the urge to jump and lay my head on that lap.'

'Laps are for children.'

'You're right, do you like children?'

'I don't like them in the fanatical way like the rest of human race. But do I like children? I do. Frankly speaking, sometimes the thought of a child puts me off. It's horrible.'

'In what ways?'

'In many ways. I got a feeling at times, I don't need any child. It's selfish. There are many beautiful things out there that I can expend myself. No, probably that's not right. I'm a perfectionist. I'm too wise. I'm afraid of my replica. Or worse, I'm afraid I may not have a child who thinks the way I do, who does what I do. Then I may think of myself as a failure. I hate to talk of myself. About you, this age, why don't you have a child?'

'Long story.'

None of Sipeyiye's tricks worked. At five in the morning he was chased out of the room. He left with nothing, except his keys. He drove all the way back to town with a body without a heart, because he had left all of it at Riverside Hotel. Of cause he had lied that he didn't have a car!

# Chapter 33

I need you Jesus

To be my vision

You're the way

The Truth, and the Life

Teach me understanding

Teach me to pray

Oh, I need you Jesus

To be my vision

You're the way

Let me understand once more

The sense of the blood

The covenant on Calvary

The blood to serve this world

This is my blood

This is my Bread

Eat it in remembrance of me

I will come again

When you see this happening

Wars, pestilence, famines

Incurable diseases

The times are near

The second coming.

On that night

Before I knew you

You saved my soul

And delivered me from sin

Let me not forget

I don't know,

Tomorrow there will be another drought

Could be another war

This vast land of the black

The book tells me so

Teach me to understand again

Natasha broke two glasses on the day that followed. She broke the first one when she noticed Sipeyiye walking through the balcony coming at the side of the pool where they were sitting. She gave all the intangible reasons as the caretaker swept pieces of broken glass away.

She broke the second one when Sipeyiye's voice suddenly boomed behind her without her expectation. She apologized again to the caretaker. This time she asked to send him.

'Where do you want to send me?' He was shocked. Imagine, he had already swept two broken glasses in two hours.

'Just around.' She scribbled something on a notepad paper: I guess the next glass I'd have to break it on your head. You can't always be doing this to me.

Irritated, the man impatiently delivered the message to Mr Mohyi.

'Wait a minute, man.' Sipeyiye was quick. He scribbled at the back of the note: And who'll you love, Natasha?

The man nearly clicked his tongue as he delivered another message to Ms Chuma.

'One more message, please.' She scribbled something at the back, in a very unreadable handwriting at the bottom of the paper.

The man walked back, shuffling his feet rebelliously. He even said something aloud about people's feet and the glasses that were still on the floor.

Sipeyiye stared at the paper, trying in vain to read. The words dawned on him slowly and he hugged the back of the man who was walking away quickly, afraid that they might be sent again. The man nearly lost his temper, having listened to most of President Mugabe's speeches and his stance against homosexuality. He shook Mr. Mohyi off him. He only calmed when he heard about the money.

'Man, you have won five hundred dollars.'

That was difficult to resist.

'Why sir?' he wondered as he saw Mr Mohyi scribbling something in his chequebook.

'Five hundred, sir, you mean? Are you sure it won't bounce?'

'Man, can you read?' Sipeyiye asked. 'There read.' He handed the man the paper.

The man read it aloud and very slowly: I love you, Sipeyiye.

# Chapter 34

Her eyes ached as the sun hit them. She was incredibly hot. She quickened her step along the wood floor. The smell of bile rose up her throat.

'Natasha,' a voice shrilled from behind her. It was Susan, or Sue as they called her. She wasn't much, just somebody she knew. She merely waved her off and walked on.

She could make out quite a number of men sitting in the shade. Some were just ducking in the pool. Sipeyiye wasn't there. Maybe he had been hooked up at work.

No problem.

She squatted in front of the tape and turned it on. She overdid it. The water jetted out in torrents. All she had wanted was a small gulp, which she swallowed gladly. A gust of air swept past her. Surprisingly enough, the mistake had a good effect on her. She suddenly felt cool, her nerves calming again.

She checked for Sipeyiye again, just to be sure. He wasn't there.

She walked out. In the hall, most of the women had already gone. Sue, too. She jog-trotted to the first floor. As she walked along the corridor, she could hear the showers running in the men's changing rooms.

She pushed open the door labelled 'women changing rooms'. Here too, most women had left. She un-slung a key from her neck, the one to her closet. She pulled out her sandals, her sweater and a snake-pink hipster.

She pulled down the blinds around her. She stepped out of her martial arts outfit.

She glared at the mirror behind her for a moment. And that wasn't unusual of her. She maintained she was still country. She had an extremely smooth face, but she didn't use obvious make-ups. Her legs were firm and strong. They had to learn to survive the hard way when they had to walk some long distances during childhood.

Beauty is an attitude really. It starts from the way you feel inside. She had absolutely no regrets about everything that she was. Today, she had made her hair into a solid bob. She turned around and massaged her stomach, starting from the pelvis. She squashed her breasts. Hard, full nipples... She drew in air. Her stomach was still as flat as a punctured tyre although she was now expecting a baby.

It amazed her how she was suddenly elevated to having a child. She had never included that on her life catalogue. Her childhood had been hard. There were times when she was convinced that one way of avoiding the sort of problems that had beset her childhood was to have as few children as possible. But now that she was making one she found that she loved the idea.

She slipped into her clothes and threw the marital art suit in the laundry basket. Of course, all the clothing was labelled. Tomorrow afternoon, everything will be washed and ironed. She stuffed her phone in the pocket. She left.

She went down the stairs into the foyer. She ticked against her name to indicate she had left. She checked on a list of the other the names, those who had come to RIM Marital Arts today. Sipeyiye's name wasn't there, all right.

She had left her Jetta thinking she would drive in Sipeyiye's Pajero back home, or alternatively walk with him. Bulawayo is wonderful to walk on a Saturday. The traffic is thin and the crowd would be spacey. It was to be a treat with the sky a clear blue above them. They would watch the sun turn red in the west.

Today, she did it alone, rather absent-mindedly, with her hands stuck in the pockets. She wasn't even being careful with the traffic. It's a wonder there wasn't even one driver who popped his head through the window to shout at her.

She came to a supermarket that opens on Saturdays. Its front was teeming with vulgar urchins, though. Because most of the supermarkets would be closed on a Saturday, they all drifted here. They sold bags made from sacking and offered to help carry groceries. They also begged for money, rather making the cosy supermarket unfriendly. This, plus the fact that they always waited for the slightest opportunity to give people trouble, Natasha opted to use the space between the parking lane and the tarmac.

But a small boy saw her and came rasping after her, 'Sister, sister, can I have a dollar?'

Begging had become commonplace in Bulawayo. She often wondered if the world was so over-populated that there was too much pressure on resources? You go anyway, you meet outstretched hands. This was more than she could cope with.

'A dollar, sister,' he repeated persuasively.

She fumbled in her pockets, not exactly to give, but to get rid of the boy. But a woman who had just done her shopping and should have been driving away suddenly became reluctant to do so. She was obviously waiting to see if she could witness how Natasha's encounter with the urchin would end. Natasha became aware of her as her hands turned wads of money in her pocket.

Natasha turned to the boy, whose eyes were still pleading. She looked at the woman again, who wore the face of an experienced city dweller. Then she turned at the boy again. She recalled: give the street child money and tomorrow they will be two.

'You think I grind money,' she shouted at the boy. 'I don't have even a cent'.

And with that she hustled away with the rage she could muster. She heard the banging of the Mazda's doors, the woman leaving satisfied with her show.

She squinted over her shoulder. The boy had turned way, very much his old self, unaffected by the harsh words.

Twenty minutes later, she opened the door to her apartment. 'Lonely, lonely,' she muttered to herself.

Life was going more or less according to plan. She had taken her chances when they came along. A combination of factors had contributed to the upgrading of her life: hard work, intelligence and just plain old good luck. Now she had a good degree in accounting, as well as a good job.

Her sisters had followed their own paths, which always included marriage and strings of children. It was always the same thing, always doing that very same thing they were not supposed to do. In the end they all married abusive and ungrateful men that gave them hordes of babies and many other problems besides

It was this cycle she wanted to break. There were too many of them in that place not to tread on each other's toes.

They hadn't been able to share because there was never enough to share. Natasha pondered over all this, reflecting also on that perhaps her withdrawal from her family had been a bit too much. Now, she knew only too well that nothing less than another death and yet another funeral gathering would bring her back to talking terms with her roots. Her mother's death some years ago had broken her last link with her people out there.

But there is a whole lot of life that lay behind watching sunrises and sun falls.

There wass a full life that's there beyond champagne in the evenings. Or holidays in Cape Town. Or adding another zero to the bank account.

She wanted a family. She desperately needed a family. She massaged her stomach again. Inside her lay life. She had missed a period. Today, she was going to tell Sipeyiye.

She waited for Sipeyiye, sipping lemonade and watching television. She waited for about an hour. She had a puzzled feeling inside her, but she couldn't exactly pinpoint why. She gave up her plans for preparing supper and waiting and drifted to sleep.

As she entered her bedroom, fine droplets of water started pelting at the window. She shifted the curtains to look at the city below sprinkled with lights. She could smell the water. She watched the rain building into a steady torrent. Then she remembered something: the boy she had seen in town and how rudely she had treated him. He was in the rain now, she thought. Nobody cares about him, not me either.

She remembered her evening prayer as well, but didn't appreciate the reminder. Guilt tore at her mind. She knelt down beside the bed all the same reciting the Lord's Prayer, her voice shaky with emotions.

# Chapter 35

The rain hammered down the city. The lights now tinkered against it. In the tall building, where her apartment was few lights glowed in the darkness. Most of its inhabitants had drifted to sleep. A few though were watching late movies in their lounges.

Unlike most of them, Sipeyiye still stooped up the stairs, muttering curses.

The rain had poured down on him without any mercy from the car. It dripped down his head. It had soaked into his shoes. They squelched.

He smiled as he reached the door. He fed the key in the door. He turned it and withdrew. He looked at it again and smiled.

You're welcome to my heart.

It had happened only a month ago. Natasha was a difficult girl. It took time to be close to her. Like those awful days when he had to come and knock and knock before she opened the door because she would be asleep then. Or not expecting him, although awake.

Then the other day, he saw the key in the jacket's pockets, wrapped, with the message: you're welcome to my hut. Well, hut was cancelled and replaced with heart. Wasn't that romantic, man? He had said his thanks in the evening. She had denied it. But the handwriting was her's. Perhaps, she was still frightened to surrender her heart. And that wasn't a problem. Not a problem at all.

Natasha wasn't there in the lounge. He checked the kitchen. There was no one either. The stove was cold. So the supper wasn't prepared. The fridge hummed, and the clock tick-tacked in the lounge. Besides the two, the place was dead quiet.

He headed for the bedroom.

Natasha was listening all the while but unwilling to get up. She had lain on the bed, awake and tossing around. The sheets wrinkled around her. She heard the foot-thuds approaching. The door creaked open.

Sipeyiye grumbled as he entered. She stole a glance at him. He was terribly soaked with water. He perched on the bed. He peeled off his socks.

'Evening,' he said as he rose from the bed. He flung his shirt on the bed. 'The rain caught me off guard.'

He crossed the room to plant a kiss on her forehead. Natasha giggled.

He changed into his martial arts suit.

'I thought you were coming to RIM today,' she said after a while.

'I thought I would come as well, I was just too busy.' He carried his wet clothes out. A moment later, he announced, his head craned in the door, 'You didn't prepare anything here. I'm awful hungry.'

'I'm sorry, I was just ...well, and I didn't feel like preparing anything.' She wished she had prepared his food.

He shut the door.

She could hear the rattling of utensils. Sipeyiye was preparing his food. Sipeyiye and food! She looked at the watch beside her. It registered past midnight.

Outside was the distant hiss of rain. She was being allergic to it. That boy! Talk to somebody and you will feel better. For a brief moment, she was tempted to share this with Sipeyiye. But how could she phrase it. The boy in the street wasn't going to appeal to him in any way. Nothing less than death especially that of the great North Korean leader would.. He was so insensitive to everything he has never taken to bed this Sipeyiye. She lost her temper.

He popped in again. 'You can have a bite,' he offered.

'I'm ok'. She knew she would go for it eventually. His effort meant a lot to him. It just didn't appear right to accept it right away.

'If you can't come, you know what I will do: I will force you?' He crossed the room. He flung the blankets away from her. Natasha lay beneath, huddled in a thin nightgown.

Sipeyiye stood over her for a moment, looking down at her. Natasha loved to be admired. He bent over. He slipped his hands beneath her.

Natasha kicked about. He arrested her in a stronger grip. 'Now there isn't a thing I enjoy more than a challenge.' he grinned.

She freed a leg. As it touched the ground, Sipeyiye stumbled into it. There was going to be a disaster, but Sipeyiye took her down with the grace of a cat. They stumbled into an untidy heap with Sipeyiye on top.

The action caught them both unawares.

'Now look what you've done.' Natasha charged to cover up. She knew she was wrong, though. That did it: Sipeyiye looked around apologetically.

'Oh, my arm,' Sipeyiye howled. Natasha looked at the hand still beneath her. She quickly figured pain was false. He was obviously acting up. She might have landed thunderously on it, but could not have hurt that rocky, lean hand of his.

'Oh, my leg,' he wailed again, perhaps having forgotten he had started with the arm. They were so near to each other that they were breathing the same air.

Natasha could feel his heart beating on her nipples. His smell clouded her nostrils.

She was almost surprised by his nearness. Something that goes beyond what the eye can see, perhaps. Child games didn't suit him well. He was too serious a man in general. He was an underachiever who dreamt of power and money. However, dreamer that he was could not afford to play games all the time. Natasha could see that he was trying very hard to give their relationship a chance.

He scrambled up, finding balance at her upturned leg.

She followed him to the kitchen.

At times she was really surprised at Sipeyiye's efficiency. The floor was clean with no litter. The dishes lay smart on the table. The stove was spotlessly clean. She arrived in time to see him do the last touches to it. She stood behind him, hunched at the shoulders. She massaged her stomach, recalling she had his child.

Today, right now, she would announce it to him.

They sat over hamburger, spaghetti and tomato soup. Natasha had very little appetite, so she merely pushed the food around her plate, hoping it would escape Sipeyiye's attention.

'You're eating?' he queried.

'Sipeyiye, you're a kind and capable man.' She just wanted to keep him talking.

He switched attention to her. He growled and was immediately occupied with his food again. He said that should remind him to buy an umbrella in town next day. He swore that wouldn't go through this twice without suing the people who put the garage at the back of the flats. She realized that she had to have a go at the food. IF that didn't happen she could expect a squabble or two

After the quick meal they put dishes in the sink and sat over a whisky. Comfortable in each other's company they began to talk the night away.

'Sipeyiye, you're kind of a capable man,' she repeated, circling the rim of her glass.

'What's this talk?' He was aglow. Natasha was amused by his sense of triumph.

'Well, it's this woman you talked about this other day. I wonder why a person with a head over her neck could possibly walk out on you, considering what you have done to me.'

'No', he objected. 'It was a mistake. It couldn't work. I still had my career to nurture then. I was only twenty-nine. Hadn't left for Oxford and North Korea. She fell pregnant, and I had no option but to abandon her, at least for that time... but, I haven't been able to meet her again.'

Natasha wasn't sure she enjoyed the turn of the story.

There wasn't even a hint of regret in his voice. All she wanted was to keep him talking.

'So you just left?'

'I hoped to come back to her, but when I came to Bulawayo, I couldn't find her.'

'How do you feel now?'

'Nothing, it's behind me. Come to think of it, it's some thirteen years behind me.'

'You frighten me, Sipeyiye.' Her voice trailed off. 'Especially when I'm expecting your child like this.'

The message hit him unawares and his eyes dilated. Natasha couldn't immediately make out what he was thinking. He hammered the table with his hand and the whisky sloshed out of the glass. 'Oh, the baby,' he bawled. He was overwhelmed. 'You know, I've waited just too long for this.'

'Natasha and I are getting married,' he declared.

It was still raining outside.

# Chapter 36

Sunday morning...

They pushed the trolley between them. They talked. They shouted at each other over artificial anger. They teased each other. They were in a haven of their own, and were playing a game very close to the heart.

'I'm dying for some mutton.' He threw what seemed to Natasha to be some 5kgs of meat into the trolley, never glancing at the price.

'We'll never be able to finish this,' she protested, taking it out. She replaced it with a smaller one.

'And don't forget I'm feeding two people now. I don't want my baby weighing anything below 5kgs.'

Natasha stopped. She breathed in. 'You know exactly what 5kgs is I hope, because I might as well die.'

'And you know the words you shouldn't be using, for example, words like "die". Come on, girl, we're beginning life now.'

'Can you stop it, Sipeyiye?'

The supermarket was full, but it was never too full in this part of the city. The prices always scared people away. They wheeled two trolleys to the purchase point, after they had gone around rummaging for an hour or so. After they had gone through everything they wanted also meant a lot of alcoholic drinks. A bright day, they were determined to make it. Natasha thought with mild worry that soon she would have to quit her drinking habits because of the baby.

Sipeyiye wrote the cheque, and they left.

Really, it was Natasha's brainchild to come here for shopping. Although it was enjoyable, usually all the spare time they had, they preferred to do something else, not shopping. Shopping, they usually did individually and hurriedly. And her own reason for coming here wasn't exactly shopping, but the boy she saw yesterday. It's only that she couldn't always sneak away from home alone when Sipeyiye was there.

As they walked out of the supermarket, her heart raced. And she didn't know why he was having so much effect on her. She surveyed the big veranda ahead of her, but couldn't make out the boy.

'What's it?' Sipeyiye turned around when he realized she wasn't keeping pace with him.

'Nothing. Am I not following?' She wished she hadn't come along with him.

The car was parked behind the supermarket. They snaked through the crowd as they headed there. As she turned around the corner, she saw the boy.

Her gaze fixed on him as he approached. He was painfully young for the life he was living, not anything above twelve, maybe. He was beautiful, but his beauty was hidden beneath dirt and worry. Natasha knew it only too well, having grown up in it. You don't quickly appreciate this kind of beauty. And beauty is an unusual gift, also. And if you pray hard, too you might realize beauty as a very unusual gift. It violates all that you have ever heard of: clothing, colour, place...

Here, she was mesmerized with the boy in a yellow fading shirt. His hair was thick and matted. A thin film of sweat had formed where hair meets the face. His face, though not washed, was smooth, shining in unison with the sun. As he approached her, Natasha actually realized he smelled. She was taken miles and miles into History: Tuzuka. The smell had no beginning or end: it was simply always there if you're married to the sun and the land.

He felt her gaze and jerked around in all directors. And he was jerky, too.

Natasha lowered the gaze to make herself less hostile. Usually when you do that, you're likely to attract more attention than making a face.

Manata seemed to know this too. He immediately broke away from the others. He came directly to her.

Natasha wasn't going to live with it for the rest of her life. Today, she was going to pay him off what she owed him. And so, she walked even slower, wanting to increase the gap between Sipeyiye and her. Sipeyiye was never to know about this, let alone play part in it.

He approached, and still Natasha continued towards him. Let him ask first, she thought. That way it would always appear natural. She didn't want to attract curious glances.

'Madam,' he finally said in her face, half expecting to be turned away like a neglected dog.

'Yes,' she responded in a half whisper. She was surprised at how shaky her voice sounded.

'Can I've a dollar?'

'Oh, sure you can have more than that.'

'Natasha,' Sipeyiye bellowed at the top of his voice. Quite some number of people turned to look at her.

She quickly slipped out a number of five one-hundred dollar notes from her handbag and thrust them into his hands. He looked at her, unbelieving, but Natasha didn't wait to see much of his response because she was already hurrying towards Sipeyiye.

Sipeyiye had stopped and the last part of the ritual happened in his eyes. He stood akimbo, obviously confused by such an event.

'Not much, only a ten dollar note,' she lied as she joined him.

'Ten dollars?' He didn't look very convinced.

'That's what I said.'

They walked in silence and came to the car. Sipeyiye packed their purchases in the back of the Pajero, and they abandoned the trolleys. All the while, Natasha wondered how long it was before Sipeyiye's shepherding antics became boring and just hoped she would be used to it.

'Do you do that often?' he asked as they drove out of the parking lot.

'What often?'

'Throwing money at every poor child you see in the street.'

'You see, he has been too long on me. I thought maybe I might make the difference today.' That wasn't exactly a lie. She had met the boy yesterday, but too long on her mind he had been. She had a sleepless night thinking of him, listening to Sipeyiye's groans in the early hours of dawn.

He didn't say anything after her explanation. She wasn't sure if he understood her. He probably didn't know what she was talking about.

Manata couldn't believe his luck when the woman thrust the money into his hands. Or was it a girl? Money can do you anything. He would buy food. He might even go for a bit of entertainment in the evening, perhaps a cheap movie.

He recounted it again the fifth time.

'Five hundred,' he said again to himself, palming it like it was pure gold.

Money, money, money!. He didn't remember having loved anybody the way he loved this woman. He began to look forward to seeing her again.

# Chapter 37

That week she caught the flu. Although flu was nothing serious she worried about catching in the hot season.

'Maybe it's the dust,' Sipeyiye suggested. 'So make sure you stay away from all dusty places. Do you stay in the office while it's being swept?'

But the bug intensified at an alarming pace. Within a week, she was moving about with a pack of tissues. Her neck would hurt when she coughed. 'But this is flu,' Sipeyiye again. 'It can really send you crazy if you're not careful. Stay away from dusty and cold places.'

One night she was startled from sleep by an alarming cough that shook her whole body with almost unbearable pain. The muscles of her throat threatened to rapture from the coughing. Her head began to throb badly. The pain was unbelievable. Never before had she had such flu.

She bit her lower lip, and cast a look upwards as if to seek divine intervention. Sipeyiye lay there next to her, snoring blissfully and quite oblivious of her predicament. She wondered whether she should wake him. She decided not to because he was likely to fuss too much. It would then be ambulances and doctors. She was almost certain of that. He worried too much. No, she would not wake him. She was tempted like Brutus to say to him, 'Enjoy the honey-heavy due of slumber.'

Still, she coughed. She wriggled around the bed. He was damp with sweat. Her stomach answered to a hollow ache.

'Are you ok?' Sipeyiye suddenly said from his sleep. He swung the blankets away and half-sat. He flicked on the bedside lamp. 'You're coughing,' he observed. His eyes glowed, catlike at her in the lamplight.

'It's not serious, but I can't settle down to sleep, that's all.'

'This is bad. I will get you the syrup.' He swung out of bed and padded out to the kitchen.

There was a distant swish of night vehicles in the background. It was raining mildly. She could make out the sheets of rain hitting against the window. She wondered what time it was. It must be after midnight she decided. She withdrew her hand and tested the temperature. It was just fine.

'Try this,' Sipeyiye, said as he came back into the room.

He sat on the edge of the bed. He poured her a teaspoon of whoops. Natasha straightened up to accept it. She was immediately racked with coughing. She was driven to the edge of vomiting.

'I can't take it,' she whispered between coughs.

'Just try. This can only make you better.'

But she began to cough even more. As the new spate of coughing seized her doubled over in pain and felt the hot tears stinging her eyes.

'I've never seen flu like this,' he said. 'Better I call the ambulance,' he added, just as she had feared.

'We'll drive. I will manage.' She was still shaking vigorously.

'And that will save us time, too. I don't like the look of this.' He lurked up and swung the wardrobe open, his side. He put on a pair of trousers and a shirt. From her compartment, he took out a furry coat and threw it at her.

'You slip into that.'

She eased out of the bed and slid into her sandals.

That didn't make her feel any better, and she had to lean on Sipeyiye for balance.

'The coat,' Sipeyiye reminded her as she took the first step to the door. He wrapped it around her, and she slipped into it.

'Now, you can walk. Take it slow.' He slid his hand around her and led her to the door. Like a snail, they went in the passage, the lounge and eventually out.

Now, the clunk of metal as Sipeyiye unlocked the doors.

As she descended down one step, Natasha realized she couldn't help it. Her stomach felt like it had been rammed. Even the most minor stretching sent sharp pain coursing through her whole body.

'I can't,' she said. 'I can't get down even a single step.'

'Not even one?'

'I can't.'

He looked around her like a man looking at a tyre puncture. 'I will carry you then,' he offered. 'That's if that isn't painful as well.'

He squatted in front of her. Natasha crouched at his back and wrapped her arms around his neck. She was still coughing vigorously. He straightened up and began down the stairs, one step at a time like an undertaker.

'You know what?' she said with a catch. 'I'm enjoying this.'

'I should have known,' he peeked at her, and touched her lips with his over his shoulder.

They got to the emergency department where Mr. Mohyi was told to wait outside while they attended to Mrs. Mohyi. Mr. Mohyi liked it, even too much: Mr and Mrs Mohyi. He was even planning of getting himself a flu once they were through with hers and wondered idly if the sisters didn't have anything to place in the newspapers because that wasn't going to be difficult. Look man, isn't this a good hospital?

But he didn't like it when they made him wait for an hour only to come and tell him that Mrs. Mohyi had been admitted for tuberculosis.

'You can't be serious,' Sipeyiye exclaimed at the nurse.

The nurse who had other things to do replied. 'You can come along. You will see her. I think the doctor has finished with her now.'

He followed along the long linoleum flooring. In the room that he was shown into was a single bed. On the bed was a tiny figure in hospital swathes.

'Natasha,' he called.

'Sipeyiye.'

'What's wrong?'

'Nothing. I thought only that I might stay here for a while. I thought you were rather crowding me.'

At this point the nurse even afforded a smile.

'Come on, Natasha, this isn't the time to joke.' Sipeyiye pressed his hand to forehead.

# Chapter 38

She stayed in hospital for a month. It was unpleasant. Her days were unpunctuated. She spent most of the time indoors. She missed the wind and the sun. She had no complaints about anyone though; she just wanted to be on her damn feet again.

Her days started with the coming of the elderly women in blue uniforms and white aprons to clean up her room. A gentle knock in the morning, and it was always one of the two women, either the big-breasted one or the skinny one. They announced the beginning of a new day - a new day in hospital!

Natasha walked out, her dry cough pronounced after the sleep. She sat in the sun for an hour, as the woman diligently cleaned up. If Natasha was lucky, a woman, one of the patients, came to chat to her. If she wasn't, it was a man, worst of all, a doctor, who stared at her bulging stomach with resentment. Tough man, she thought: I'm already taken, she would think idly.

Doctors think they have a right to every beautiful woman.

She returned to her room to throw herself on the bed and look at the white ceiling. A nurse, wheeling her breakfast, often saw her like that. And how she hated food these days! A cup of tea and one thin slice of bread, and she was stuffed up. Besides, coughing made her lose her appetite.

The doctors came after breakfast. The doctors busied themselves with her cards. She didn't like it. They never told her when she would get out. And she even got furious. She would have appreciated it very much had one of them given her some indication of when she might be discharged.

Sipeyiye came in at lunch. And he never failed, over-weighted with presents, magazines, get-well-soon cards, fruits... He was never tired of it. He piled presents on her. Natasha, rural-bound as she was, didn't like flowers. What difference did they make? Sipeyiye did not mind never minded. He stayed for an hour and left.

The afternoons would see her wriggling around the bed. The bed that was freshly made in the morning ruffled again, with magazines everywhere: in the blankets, under the bed, on the bedside table...Natasha never made up her mind. The first moment she would be in the blankets. The next moment she would be lying on top of her blankets. And yet the next, she's sitting, always starting to read up an article, but never finishing it.

But it was her mind that was playing tricks with her. She was thinking of a certain boy. The boy on the streets!

Sipeyiye returned again in the evening, between six and seven, after the doctor's last rounds and her supper.

'Sipeyiye, when am I gonna leave this goddamn place?' she asked. 'I can't help it anymore.'

He buried his head in his hands, and sighed. 'I wish I could take you out, but you know I can't. And you can't, because you have the baby. We can't take chances with that.'

And the baby, that was it. The baby, meant so much to them. The baby bound them firmly together.

Sipeyiye gone, she would lie on the bed again, the feeling of loneliness stronger. She barely went to sleep until midnight. But even then, she hardly slept for more than two hours. She woke up with a strong cough, again.

Again, when she was a little stronger, she thought of the boy.

Her discharge was a surprise, even to her. A Wednesday evening, and the doctor was doing his usual rounds. All of a sudden he said, 'you may go home now, Natasha.'

She didn't sleep that night, and it was like somebody who had been told about her first airplane flight. 'At last,' she wailed joyfully in the middle of the night.

She rang Sipeyiye in the early hours of dawn, after having failed to get through to him the whole night. That morning, to be exact, thirty minutes later, Sipeyiye arrived at the hospital.

'You needn't tell me anything, honey,' he said as he hurled the packed suitcase on his shoulder and dragged the other one with the other hand, impatient to get her home. 'I can't breathe,' he said breathlessly as he fired the engine. 'Natasha and I are going home.'

'Pardon,' Natasha snapped, a little sharper than she had intended.

'Natasha and I are going home. Khumalo is the home.'

'It can't be,' she exclaimed, now with controlled calmness. Joyously she added, 'I should take my wardrobe with me. I'm too fat for your trousers. See what you did to me.' She massaged her stomach and laughed.

That yielded a laugh from Sipeyiye, which Natasha imitated, racking the whole of her body. Sipeyiye watched her over his shoulder, surprised that Natasha could now laugh.

Natasha pondered on why she had put him off. It wasn't because she wanted clothes. She wasn't even sure she needed them until she was ready to go back to work. She had never discussed it with him, and she wasn't the type that does anything before thinking twice. Or was she too careful, now that she was carrying his child?

'It's because I thought you should have some rest,' Sipeyiye clarified. 'You won't relax well at your flat. You need somebody to do all the dirty work for you. I can't be available all the time, like last night. John is there at my place, always snoring, but we can't move him into your apartment, lest we'll be crowded.' John was Sipeyiye's gardener.

'I understand,' she said.

But when they got there, she didn't take her clothes straightaway. Instead, they sat down and engaged in a long talk. Sipeyiye wanted to permanently move her out immediately. Natasha excused herself though and entered the bedroom to sleep in the afternoon.

'Well...' he said after a while and stood beside the bed, his hands inside his trouser the pockets. 'Are you sure you're ok?' He felt her forehead.

She got out of the bed in a reflex, to prove him wrong. She paced across the room, and leaned over the dressing table. She inspected herself in the mirror. She could see Sipeyiye in the mirror as well, his tall frame firm and gazing intensely at her.

'You have been a strong man, Sipeyiye, which goes without saying. I don't doubt your capacity to love me for a life time, even two.' Sipeyiye cracked a smile. 'But ....' her voice trailed off. She turned around at him. 'But ....well, you're sort of impatient with me.'

He didn't reply then and she walked towards him. 'Now does that hurt my old boy?' she asked, inviting a smile and tracing a finger along his cheekbone.

He did smile.

'Well, you always have your way, don't you?' he said resignedly, throwing his hands into the air. He left the room, leaving her to lie down and sleep; only that she didn't.

She shifted the curtains to the window, and the light streamed in. She blocked its way, taking the slanting rays into her face. She gazed at herself in mirror again. She wasn't impressed with what she saw. Too bony! She eased the window open and a flood of cool air rushed in. Across, she could see another block of flats, but there were no people around. School and work!

It was promising to be a fine day, of moderate temperature, too.

She was feeling just fine to go along with it. Who said she wanted rest?

She began to plan what she would do for the day. Martial arts? No, maybe she wasn't yet strong enough for that. The shopping would do. Maybe, she would be able to see that boy, after all.

And that boy!

Her heart threatened to leap out of her. She left the room.

She had woven a yarn!

Sipeyiye was in the kitchen, preparing something Natasha didn't even bother to know. She leaned at the door and watched him from behind.

'Mr. Sipeyiye,' she called.

'Mrs. Sipeyiye.'

Natasha laughed

'You see,' she paused. Only then did he turn around at her.

'What's it?' he asked, alarmed.

'I just thought maybe we need not depend on John at all. I will be having a baby in eight months. Maybe, we just need a nanny instead.'

'We need a nanny and a gardener, of course.'

'No, I don't want a lot of people around me.'

'You don't like him.'

'Maybe, we don't need him after all.'

'I can't read you.'

She left the kitchen and Sipeyiye followed, having lowered the temperature to the stove. They sat in the lounge.

'There is a boy I know whom we can employ.'

'Why the boy now?'

'No, I don't want servants Sipeyiye. I just want a living soul around me.'

'What about the baby?'

'We'll see then. I meant it for the mean time. I'm just against the idea of moving out at the moment.'

'Any other reasons I don't know of.'

'We're happy here, aren't we? Come on, boy, let's play romance once more.'

She curled her lips in a smile, slowly twisting her mouth to one side.

'You can't tell me you're not even looking forward to the baby.'

'No,' she wailed with emotion. 'I'm.'

There was an ugly silence, which trickled goose pimples on her skins. She was afraid. Afraid of what? Following her mind. No, this didn't seem really true to her. Seeing a boy in the street and suddenly here she was, compromising what she believed in. She had never been so hurried in her life.

Sipeyiye still sat there, one of his legs jammed on the coffee table.

'You're a bit difficult today. Could it be that?' He gestured to her stomach with eyes.

That was it. She had won it. She didn't need to be told that. She could see with the joy in his eyes.

# Chapter 39

Manata saw the tall, slender woman across the road. She was loitering intentionally. Manata scratched his head. He didn't trust his senses. He was too crazy for money. He had run into dozens of women, having mistaken them for the woman who shoved wads of money at him. He'll surely get into trouble one of these days, he reflected.

His encounter with the woman changed his perception of people. Before, he hated the rich for their indulgence. The woman proved him wrong, though. There are some nice people within the generally bad society.

Of course, men were generally bad. Like that man who beat him up for merely asking for money. Women were better. Especially women like that woman he met. He had just hoped the woman would appear again, but she didn't. He would just run into every woman he saw in black, anybody he likened to the woman. He didn't mind if she wasn't, only it inconvenienced these women, but he had learnt to see her in every woman.

A person can take the place of somebody, he realized again, surprised at himself. There were times when he met a person - it could be anywhere, a bus maybe. They might not talk, but in his sub-consciousness, his mind would register the person.

The disaster came when he met, or thought he had met the same person again. Then his brain would really have to work overtime to establish where he had met the person. If he summoned little courage, he would ask. The worst could be when the person denied ever meeting him. And that won't be the end of it. In this mind, this person will replace the former as if they had been friends. And it was painful when the person never seemed to give in as much as he did.

Even more confusing or traumatic was when the person you have met was a friend and you came to make that intimacy with a stranger. It was something you keep in your mind, and that had all the power to crash you under it.

Good people are few, and man multiplies them in his eyes.

Could she be the woman he saw a month ago?

She had now walked past the entrance of the supermarket, but had suddenly stood standstill, confused. Her eyes scanned the landscape rapidly. People hustled past her. A few passed unconcerned. Most of them squinted over their shoulders to have a second glance at her. She didn't see what she was looking for. She turned and reluctantly walked away.

Manata broke away from the others, having decided eventually that she might not be woman she was looking for. She was interesting, though. Taking extra care against the stream of cars, he darted across the road.

She turned around at him as he approached her. Her reaction was unique. She unfolded her arms at once at the first sight of him. She raised them fractionally over her head, releasing a sigh of guilty as if she had failed to do a simple calculation. She wanted to do more than that obviously, but she became calm again as an afterthought.

'You,' she accused him, waging a finger at him.

Manata was startled. Had she said me? He immediately broke into the song he knew best, 'Madam, can, I've dollar?

'I don't have a dollar. But I can give you more than that if you do a piece of work for me.' She didn't give him time to think, but started pacing away for him to pursue. There hadn't been anything Manata had been afraid to do, let alone a job. When they were away from curious glances, she slowed for him to level up with her.

'Well, what's your name?' she asked, chin straight at him.

'Manata.'

'You stay here?'

'Just around the town, but I am here most times.'

'Who do you stay with?'

'An aunt'

'She works?'

'Yes, she sells in a bar'

'A bar?'

He didn't answer. She had heard him, let her think what she wanted to think. He wasn't sure where this conversation was leading so far.

'Now, I did see you a month ago. You're always at this place for sure?'

'You're the woman I saw?'

'I think so. I was in hospital for the whole of last month.'

Manata allowed his gaze to run up and down her. There was no doubt to what she was saying. She was very pale and thin.

'Now,' she continued. 'I was looking for someone to help me with housework, a small boy to come and live in like you.'

He didn't think about it. 'I want it,' he shouted.

She stood there, fascinated at his response.

'When do you think you can start?'

'Today.'

'What about your aunt? You should tell her, you know.'

She chauffeured him to the back of the car. For a moment, Manata was bewildered as he sank into soft upholstery. She slid into the driver's seat herself, checked on him over her shoulder. She fired the engine.

They drove off.

'What happened to your mother?' she asked as they joined the other traffic. He ignored her deliberately. He just didn't know what she was talking about. There had been no mother in his life. He had never heard of her, but he wasn't bothered with it.

She peered at him in his long silence. Her gaze met his for a moment. He stared away, overpowered. Manata wasn't sure whether she wouldn't change her mind, and suddenly say street-child get lost, I've made up my mind.

Driving in her car was a treat. He was completely fascinated, watching the buildings fly by. It was a life really too much for him to imagine. This luxury... His place was limited to the pavement beneath, hustling when care-not drivers came speeding along. In some way, this didn't appear real.

Having driven avenues down the street, they turned left. At the gate was a guard with a green uniform. He opened the gate and smiled broadly. The woman nodded to the guard.

He entered into a new world, or so he thought. A world that excluded the poor from the outside. It was all unbelievable, immaculate: the green lawn, white children, totally at leisure in tight-fitting clothing. They went up the stairs and turned to the left.

'We have arrived, Manata,' the woman said. 'Do you think you'll like to work here?' He didn't respond but managed a smile. She whole-heartedly returned it.

The room he was ushered into had a red carpet coupled with white. It felt thick in the feet as he stepped onto it. He didn't feel comfortable doing so, thinking he was messing it up with his dirty feet, but the woman didn't seem to mind.

'Ok, sit down. We'll talk.'

He sank into the couch, amazed again at how comfortable these things can be. He tested it, slumping himself a little and straightening immediately. He had a rough idea on how people who work for madams should behave, and sitting luxuriously wasn't one of them. He even debated the wisdom of sitting here. He should have sat on a chair, but there was none.

There weren't many things either, just a set of sofas arranged around the coffee table. There was also an elephant idol an elephant idol in a glass plate hung above the window. The curtains were cream, so long that they swept the carpeted floor beneath. Books, a painful stack of them, big and colourful, filled the shelf opposite the window. He kept looking around.

The woman reappeared. As she walked past him to occupy the sofa opposite him, he was amazed he hadn't noticed that her stomach was a bit bigger than normal. She's pregnant, he reflected. That's why she wanted a boy. She wants me to look after the baby, Manata reflected. He didn't like babies. Too much trouble. But he liked the job.

'Do you think you can do the job?' she asked. 'This is the place. It isn't much really, just to vacuum the carpet and to do plates. Most of the things I will do.' She was talking to him, her eyes darting up and down him.

Vacuum the carpet? What is that?

'But you can't start today,' she said with a glint of delight in her eyes. It fascinated Manata. She had an air of lightness about her.

'You're going back to your aunt today. Tell her you got a job. See if she will allow you to. If it's ok with her, let her write a note. Maybe she will tell you where I can meet her.

'Fine.' He was disappointed that he wouldn't sleep here today.

She was just too careful. His aunt would never mind that much of her absence.

'What did I say?'

Manata recited what she had said and was amazed at his own intelligence.

'That's it.'

'You must be hungry. I will do you a cup.' She rose and disappeared in the kitchen.

Manata remained there, listening to his own mind. 'Oh, he was so lucky!'

# Chapter 40

Natasha coughed dryly, her stomach muscles contracting excessively as she did so. Nausea diffused through her, and she immediately ducked out of the bed as the smell of bile resurfaced.

In the bathroom, she leaned on the toilet bowl, ready to pour out all her breakfast, but an unpleasant, a wish to pass it all out was all there was, and nothing more. A number of minutes, and she was convinced she wasn't going to vomit just then. Perhaps, brushing her teeth would help. She reached for her toothbrush, just above her and behind the bathroom mirror. Squeezing the Colgate over it, she began to brush her teeth.

She felt a little better thereafter, only better. She had never been able to reach her best ever since she was discharged. Her health had remained poor. She was losing weight alarmingly. And it wasn't long then, it was only three days. And all the while she had been fighting it up with Sipeyiye. There was no way she was going to return to hospital. Enough was enough.

The watch in the lounge showed 12:15 pm.

She had been expecting Manata for the whole morning, but it was beginning to appear as if he wasn't going to turn up. The joy of seeing him had kept her spirit especially high the whole morning. God, how she loved to have someone around this place!

She was also hoping to drop at the hospital, not the General where she was admitted, but Mpilo. Maybe, she would get a different treatment that wasn't admission. To sleep in hospital again was the last thing she wanted.

There was a faint knock at the door. Natasha was high-headed. He has come! Indeed it was him. She ushered him in.

He was putting on the same clothes: a black short and yellow 'T' shirt that he was wearing yesterday. He had tried to clean them up to no avail. The yellow 'T' shirt was badly strained with dirt. Water without soap, as was obvious had been all the inputs, hadn't been able to bring about much change.

'I was beginning to get worried,' she confessed, pointing to the couch when it appeared he was about to throw himself directly onto the floor. He returned a nervous smile, perching himself on it, taking too small a space for comfort.

'I've been helping my aunt at the bar.'

'You must be tired then, the bar?' Natasha eventually said, wanting to switch on a new subject.

He slipped a paper out of his pocket and passed it to her. It was from the aunt. She was glad the boy had found a job. She would be available at the city bar from eight in the morning to ten in the evening. Just that.

'OK, thank you.' She folded it and slipped it under the television set.

'If you're all that tired,' she continued, 'maybe, I can show you the shower, and you can clean yourself up.' This boy didn't look any presentable at all to Sipeyiye. He might as well assume she was mentally unwell if he saw a boy like this.

'I don't know. I was planning to leave soon, but I will be back in three or four hours. I'm dropping at Mpilo hospital. I haven't prepared anything, but there are some fruits in the fridge. If you're all that hungry, I will show you how to put on the stove as well.'

'I think I'm Ok, madam.'

Madam? Natasha thought of the title. She will never get used to it. Someone must stop this little boy from calling her 'madam', damn it!

'The shower is at the end of the passage.'

'OK, madam.' Again! Natasha almost screamed.

He was half-reluctant to leave, and Natasha wondered why. Maybe it was just he thought he was smart enough. Smart enough, or cold water.

She called out, 'You can put on the hot water, right?' But she figured out he might not be able to do so or might burn himself, so she followed and knocked at the door.

'You can put the hot water, right?'

'Where's it, madam?'

She clapped the door open, but unfortunately Manata had already removed his clothes. As she took a step in, he turned around hugging himself and shying away.

'Sorry Manata, I didn't know,' she apologized, having retreated and closing the door.

'Now, can you put on your clothes and I will show you how to put on the shower?'

A rapid fumbling with clothes, and immediately she heard, 'You can enter, madam.'

There was still a hint of shyness in his eyes. Children grow fast there these days, thought Natasha. During their youthful days, a girl his age wouldn't have started thinking of anything along gender bias, much less a boy.

She showed him how to adjust the two faucets on the wall to come up with a moderate temperature for the water. He listened attentively, fascinated by the trick.

He stayed there far longer than she was expecting, but he eventually came out.

This time, Natasha had also changed her attire, from the thin night garment to a long, black gown that nearly swept the floor. It was the twin one to the one she was wearing yesterday.

'Now, there is something you can eat in the fridge if you feel like. And the stove...'

He followed her into the kitchen. 'This you should know, don't you?' She said to him as she turned it on and off, demonstrating.

'No, I didn't, but now I know,' he said with a glint of cheerfulness in his eyes.

'It depends what you want to prepare, I think most of the things you will find here.'

'Ok, madam.'

'And then, shall we say good-bye? I will be back soon.' She jingled the keys in her purse as she walked out. She was a bit elevated. It was always nice to have somebody at home.

Somebody had told her that they didn't admit people at Mpilo, because the wards were always full - should be Sue or one of the ladies at RIM, who was joking over the issue. Natasha felt confident with this piece of information as she drove to the hospital.

The man who attended to her was middle-aged, with a bit of white hair on top

'Now, what's your problem, madam?'

'I'm having a cough that's ever persisting. Sometimes, it drives me to vomiting and sometimes I do vomit.'

'When did it start?'

'About two months ago.'

'Two months?'

'No, I've been receiving treatment. I was admitted even, but it's ever persistent.' She hoped she was explaining as well that admitting her couldn't help anything.

'Can I see the cards?'

She dug into her purse and came up with the card he was referring to. Thank God, she had come with it. He read it immediately.

'You're pregnant as well.'

'Yes, I'm.'

'Let's hope you will have me a girl,' he chuckled.

'You should be very rich then.'

'Mm.'

'Don't blame me, these days everything says money.'

'You're perfectly right, Mother-in-law.'

He wrote something on the card in a speedy, spidery handwriting.

'You go to room 15 ok? They will do you a blood test. We want to be certain why the usual drugs are failing on you.'

'Thank you, Son-in-law,' she said, leaving and clicking the door shut behind her.

Room 15 wasn't difficult to find, just as she had been directed.

There were quite a number of people who were also waiting to be served so she had to wait in yet another long queue.

'Your problem?' the nurse enquired rather too fast when she entered.

'I've been directed here.'

She snatched the card from her hand and read it rapidly.

'Sit here,' she commanded, pointing to a lone chair in the corner of the room.

She tore a needle from a certain make of plastic and assembled it on a syringe. She lowered it to her hand, targeting the vein and sucking at her blood.

Natasha stiffened against the pain, suppressing a cry that threatened to escape her lips. But the pain immediately ceased when the nurse withdrew the needle.

'Some elderly people cry in here,' the nurse uttered, amused on seeing her face twisted with pain.

'But you should help to ease the pain, shouldn't you?'

'Like?'

Natasha remained quiet. The nurse said, 'This is the only help we can give you,' rubbing her arm with cotton.

'Well can you check your results next week, Wednesday?'

'Thank you.'

She drove back home cursing the way they did things at their hospitals. Ten minutes counselling. How much was that gonna change somebody who would be told that she was on the death list and was HIV positive?

She ascended the stairs to her apartment taking a big sigh at every step. Fatigue built up in her thighs as she did so. She jingled the keys as she stepped up the last step and cursed herself. There was no need. There was somebody at home.

No, there were a lot of people at home.

Sipeyiye was also there, slumped into the sofa. He was buried behind the newspaper. Her heart missed a bit. Her timing was perfect, although she hadn't left room for the possibility that he could get home before she did. She just hoped she hadn't told Manata too much when she left.

'Where have you been?' he demanded, flipping over to the next page.

'Just out. I wasn't aware you would be back so soon. Looks like my boy is afraid of competition.'

He chuckled.

'That doesn't answer my question.' He reared his upper torso and sat cross-legged on the sofa.

'We have a visitor here. Did you see him?' She planked into the sofa. 'Manata,' she called out.

'Madam,' the boy's voice shrilled across the room. He came around, half-trotting.

She gestured him to the sofa. He perched into it, now extremely jerky. Now looking at Sipeyiye, then looking at her, and then turning back to Sipeyiye. He always appeared to be insecure of everything.

'This is the boy I was talking about,' she said to Sipeyiye, who turned the upper part of his body to him.

'I've seen him.'

Natasha felt something. Just something she couldn't put a finger on. Well, just something. She looked at Sipeyiye, then at Manata, then Sipeyiye again. It hurt the most when she couldn't solve the puzzle.

She said something, but it died in the air because Sipeyiye was saying something to Manata as well that was more important. That there was a striking resemblance between them was something else. Sipeyiye was saying something about how he expected to see the work done at the right time, efficiently and diligently.

# Chapter 41

It was Thursday when Natasha went to Mpilo hospital.

'You will check your results next week, Wednesday.'

Now, the days count down.

FRIDAY

She left for work in the morning. Unlike yesterday, she wasn't coughing, but she felt hot.

She didn't tell Sipeyiye anything. She wanted was to convince him she was getting better. She had lunch with him in town. The high temperatures persisted even at night, despite the fact that she had cold baths three times that day.

SATURDAY.

She went for work again but dismissed at noon, because it was a half working day. Unlike the day before, she wasn't sweating that furiously, although it was the hell of a hot day. The cough was much stronger though. All the same, she went for RIM Marital Arts with Sipeyiye. She herself didn't exercise, but only watched the men swimming in the pool.

SUNDAY

She spent the whole of the morning sleeping, munching chocolate, consuming a paperback and listening to Manata singing around the house as he gratefully carried out his daily chores. Both her temperature and coughing were mild.

Sipeyiye went for the doctor though, without her and brought in more prescriptions. Her mind wondered into the future. Wednesday! What the hell was this blood test? She closed her mind to the endless possibilities. No, not her...

MONDAY

The most boring of all the days. She attended a meeting in the afternoon, always with generous amounts of coffee and biscuits that had an overall effect of unappetizing her. Anyway, she left early.

'Natasha, we should go back to the doctor now,' insisted Sipeyiye that evening. 'You feel so fragile when I hold you.' She told him to go there himself if he wasn't tired of doctors. The hospital again? No. She lay awake the whole night listening to her own clotted breath.

TUESDAY

She went to work as usually. Her body was racked with sobs the whole day, and she began to fear for the baby. There was a lingering anticipation; for she had the purest of the fears she had ever known. She took a day off work, for the next day.

WEDNESDAY

There she was in a long queue. They were all there: the young and the old, the poor and the rich, the whites and the blacks. And her turn to enter approached.

Then shit!

'I'm sorry, Sipeyiye,' she explained a moment later. But I'm HIV positive.'

And then another chapter of her life began.

Later on, she would recall that day as vividly as if it had happened the previous day. All the days of her life had led her here. The words sank into her like pure venom. She wanted to ask and say again, but why again? She had heard, loud and clear.

'You're HIV positive.'

She heaved a sigh and looked heavenward, tucking the legs under the chair. Just then her head started throbbing badly. She bowed her head and pressed her fingers to the eyes.

Before, the sky had been her limit. Now, her world was broken. Her dreams were shattered, all her hopes were gone. She now had no place in the world. She wanted to cry out, 'Lord, Lord why have you forsaken me?' But does he exist in moments like these.

She slumped back in the chair again and crossed her legs. She palmed her head. Her breath came out in rasps.

'When you're doing that, you're already over-reacting to it,' she heard the doctor say again, so distant from her that his voice wasn't anything but echoes. 'I will be glad if you take my last advice.'

She looked at him. He said to the nurse, 'Can you give her some pain killers?' The nurse clanked away in the adjoining room. As before, Natasha felt as if she was disconnected to it all.

She returned with a tumbler and two pills on a rack. Natasha palmed them, threw them in the mouth and took a gulp of water without even sitting up.

'Now, Natasha, HIV is a physical inability. It isn't the end of life.' The doctor again.

How nice of him to say so, Natasha reflected, but judging from how rapidly be was transmitting the words, he has never been HIV positive himself. There has to be a way of expressing this, Natasha thought, her mind running through a million verses in the Bible, trying to find consolation in the risen Christ. The doctor hadn't said this to one person in his life, or two, but quite plenty. And it broke her heart to think she was probably the tenth person of the day. Only here, perhaps he had used the name Natasha.

'You can do worse than this if you allow your physical weakness to contaminate your mind.'

An even longer silence followed.

'And don't even admit to yourself that you're weak. You can still live well up to your life's limit if you eat the right type of food and do the right exercises,' he asserted as he paused. He was expecting Natasha to say something.

She didn't.

He continued, 'We'll give you ARVs so that your health does not get complicated, especially when you're expecting a baby like this.'

The baby!

The words rang into her like an alarm. She heaved herself up and sat up tight.

'What will I do with the baby?

'You still have a choice.' He straightened the card before him. 'The baby, Natasha, you either have to keep him or have abortion. The chances are 70% though that he will be HIV positive. And of course, the worst that can happen is for you to...' He paused. 'For you to die and the baby to be live.'

This time Natasha heaved notably. This was too much to comprehend in a short space of time.

'I will think about it. Let me reach you in a week.' With that she rose, paused and said her thanks to the doctor.

She walked out

Outside the man who was about to enter had started grumbling. He said she was staying longer than she should. Natasha said nothing, only thought, wait and see. You think they play child games in there?

The queue snaked right to the back of the passage and eventually out. It was lengthening with every moment. She considered how lucky she was to have come earlier. As she walked along it, she wondered has many of them could afford a balanced diet and the right exercise.

The sun had gone up, far higher than she had expected. She wasn't worried about suns this time. In either case, Sipeyiye would know that she had come here for the HIV test result. She was simply going to tell him.

# Chapter 42

As the sun shines today

So shall my soul

Help me to shine like it

Forget the past wrongs

With a bright smile

On my face

Let me work harder

And be a better person than yesterday

Fight the world's wrongs with a smile

This way

Even when the sun

Will not shine as bright tomorrow

I shall grow younger by the day

My cheeks, as full

As those of babies

Happier than puppies

Chanting good poetry like birds on high

Expectant

Carefree

Welcoming

So help me today

As I walk another journey

Towards you

# Chapter 43

'My God, Natasha, you frighten the daylights out of me,' Sipeyiye exclaimed as he held the door open for her. 'It can't be. Are you sure you're ok?'

Natasha said nothing, only brushed past him silently.

He closed the door, clamping her hand on her shoulder. 'Natasha, now be a good girl. Won't you tell me what this is?'

Natasha knew that the whole event had added colour to her face, but she had resisted crying while she was driving. His comforting antics brought the memories back and sure she irresistibly began to sob.

'I'll tell you,' she said, throwing the handbag on the couch and turning around to face him.

He stood, hands stuck inside his pockets. Natasha considered how handsome he was, only he was HIV positive. But then what is being HIV positive? Seemed like the moment she slipped out of bed, he wasn't, and suddenly he was.

'Well, I think you should forgive me for doing something behind your back. I had an HIV test. But please, I did it all good faith. I didn't think anything bad would come out of it.'

'Can you stop crying, Natasha?' he begged. It was clear he hadn't realized the gravity of the situation. As surely as the sun would rise he would be crying louder than she could ever by the time she was finished.

All the same, she brushed the tears with the back of her hand and continued,

'Well I went to take my results today. I'm HIV positive.'

'My God!' he said as he shot across the room and slammed himself in the couch. 'That can't be true, Natasha. The doctor is lying. You can't be HIV positive.'

A surge of anger seized Natasha instantly. She couldn't help noticing, and even feeling, that he had said 'you' not 'we'. And Sipeyiye became a coward to her straightaway. His wasn't the shoulder she was going to lean on.

'Well, doctors don't usually make mistakes'.

She sat on the couch opposite his. She noticed an air of desperation between them. For the first time. There had been disasters in her life, but she had been able to make counter plans. In the end, she has been victorious.

But this...

Just to sit and watch like this. So, all that planning was nothing. How could it be any other way when she and Sipeyiye were weaving death? What to do now was the problem. There seemed to be nothing that they could do. What could they do, really, when everybody said scientists in America, in Britain, in China and all over the world are battling with it. The solution wasn't going to come from Sipeyiye or her for that matter.

'I never trust the doctors. I'll believe when I see them carry a second test.' Sipeyiye sat there, very much unconvinced.

Doctors sometimes made mistakes, yes. That Natasha knew. She also knew they don't often make any mistakes. In her case, her on and off illness couldn't be explained by anything else.

'That will be a waste of time, considering what I've been going through in the past few months.'

'Well, I don't know.' He shrugged.

They sat there for sometime in silence. After ten minutes, Natasha announced. 'I think I might need a bit of rest. Maybe that might help clear my head a little.'

'Ok' he answered noncommittally. She shuffled her way to the bedroom. A moment later the door opened.

'I'm going to play a little tennis,' Sipeyiye said from the door. 'If you...' he chewed at the words. Then, 'If you want, you can join me.'

Natasha considered this. If you can... If you want. . Was there a difference now that she was HIV positive? Damn, her mind was working overtime, giving importance to things that didn't matter.

'I think I better remain behind. My body and my soul are hardly together.' she said after a while.

He swung the door open and moved closer to the bed. He sat on the edge and pulled the sheets down to her shoulders.

'I understand your worries,' he said slowly. 'But please do me a favour. Can you loosen up a little and try to cheer up? I don't think there is anything that is going to change our lives as long as we have each other.'

She nodded. He gazed down at her and left the room. She heard the ignition start off after sometime. Sipeyiye always had some extra reserves of energy when he was stuck, although he didn't know it himself. Unfortunately, the energy wasn't directed at solving problems, but at forgetting them. He would be probably drunk the time he returns.

In the thick silence of her room, Natasha could hear the high-pitched voices of children playing outside. She could pick out the voice of Manata among them.

It was nearly noon, and she knew it was time she prepared lunch for him, so she rose and made her way to the kitchen.

Sipeyiye wouldn't believe her. This did not surprise her. He was in denial and would be like that for a while. The news had hit him with the force of a tornado. All he could think of was getting out of the house as if that would change anything.

'Natasha, you're awake?' he asked as he slipped into the blankets in the evening.

'Yes, I'm.'

'Can we possibly go for another test tomorrow?' he suddenly asked. Alright, that was what was on his mind.

'Just as you say.'

With that, he flicked off the bedside lamp and turned his back on her to sleep, only that he didn't. All night he was tossing and turning, tossing and turning. No matter what he did sleep evaded him.

Sometime during the night he flung the blankets away and turned on the light. He tried to read the newspaper, which he always kept beside the bed, to no avail. He even left the room. Natasha heard him uncorking a bottle of wine. Then she heard the crackle and the effervescence of liquid poured into glass. That's what is to be expected when the mind is in turmoil.

It hurt her to see him troubled that she couldn't sleep herself. She lay awake in the glow of the moonlight and then in the intense darkness of early morning.

He left the blankets earlier than normal. Natasha could smell the frying eggs and bacons as he prepared their breakfast. Natasha couldn't help thinking that it was nearly a day now since they had exchanged words with a smile. The atmosphere was just tense as they walloped their food. What they didn't make out in speech, they made up in speed.

'Well then,' he blurted, 'I think I should be at work in the morning. Can we go there at twelve, if that's ok with you?' His voice was knotted. 'There' meant the hospital, of course. He was talking of the test alright. She was slightly unnerved by his stern appearance. Well, there wasn't anything wrong with having a bit of hope.

'Don't bother about me,' she said dismissively. She hadn't intended to make it sound so grimy.She was worried by the way he was getting worked out.

He cast a quick glance at her but didn't say anything.

They went for the doctor in the afternoon. By twelve o'clock they were at the General hospital. They were told to check their results the following day. But it wasn't the two of them who had the test, only she. Somehow, this showed Sipeyiye's primitive side, the inconsiderate part that had no sympathy for her feelings. In a way, he was already putting the blame on her. Actions speak louder than words! They should have done this together.

They returned the following day to take her results. Her results, of course, showed that she was positive. Whatever little hope Sipeyiye had was gone now, and there was no misting it. They drove back in silence. Not exactly silence maybe, because Sipeyiye was talking to himself behind the wheel.

And he was to be the father of the child inside her. A poor distracted man!

The evening passed in an equally painful silence. By then Sipeyiye had become downright outrageous at Manata, and even in his phone conversations. He shouted at the boy for minor things like not bringing a drying towel at the table, and it burnt her heart. He tried still to remain calm with her, but that didn't disguise anything especially when Natasha was able to figure out that the boy hadn't done anything wrong. It was Natasha, just like any woman on earth, who had brought the infection here.

Men forget that their mistakes are no worse than those of women. It takes two to contract the disease.

# Chapter 44

By evening, the place had become too hot. Natasha excused herself and entered the bathroom. She turned the tap on, but sat on the floor and began to cry.

But unfortunately, she had forgotten to lock the door. It was suddenly yanked open. She sighed when she realized it wasn't Sipeyiye, but Manata.

Natasha quickly swiped her eyes with her hand. It was too late, and Manata had seen the tears alright.

He came closer. 'What's it?' he asked.

'Nothing, nothing really. Never mind.' She forced a smile.

He squatted before her and searched her eyes. They were damp and there was no way he wasn't going to see it. He pinned her in a glare, and she was surprised by his strength.

'You 're crying,' he said..

Lying again was going to make her look stupid. And her fear now was that Sipeyiye was going to know it. She wasn't prepared for it. Not yet!

'Never mind.'

But he slid his arm around her neck. He might have leant it when he was left to mind the baby. He dug his hand into his shirt and started dabbing her eyes. The lean hands... The innocent eyes... The thin skin... Isn't that what we need when our world can't hold anymore? Children can do miracles.

It didn't seem right for him to do it, but she let him.

'You don't tell him this?' It didn't seem right too maybe, but he nodded.

Back in the lounge, Sipeyiye still sat slumped in the sofa.

He was grinding his teeth. Well, something like it, because the muscles of his throat kept on rising and falling. She stood behind him.

'I was just wondering,' she held back. Then she said what had become her greatest fear. 'What do with the baby?'

He switched his gaze to her.

'What about the baby?'

'Well, we have realized that we're positive. If it's abortion, I understand, it has to be quick. They even say that abortion before a certain period isn't even killing, because we'll not have started talking about human life then.'

'Abortion, I say no. You know I need the baby.' His voice was a bit too high.

'But...'

'No, no, no'

'But...'

# Chapter 45

He watched the last of the sun go down in the west. Out of the blue, he was sorry the day was over. It immediately occurred to him that he didn't have anything to do anymore. The last man who was sitting in the garden chair rose.

'Sipeyiye, we meet at the bar if you're coming,' the man said, outstretching his hand for Sipeyiye to shake.

'It's all right.' He watched him walking off to the hall. A girl joined him. Around six now, and the main activities at RIM would be over soon. It would be some thirty minutes before the premises closed.

It had been a fortnight since Natasha had come up with her story. His life had been doomed since then. Natasha, he had never understood. She was too used to having her own way to walk with someone into the future.

Very soon, he would be celebrating his fortieth something birthday. He needed a family.

He needed a tangible future. And what were he and Natasha doing about it, rearing a damn urchin whom they saw on the street?

It became darker and the objects became silhouettes about him. Eventually, the lights began to glow above him. It was still difficult to come to terms with it, but he didn't want to go home: a place that symbolized everything he had ever dreamt of but which never was. No, he had chosen the wrong girl from the start. Natasha was the cause of all this.

A cold wind swept over him. He might as well leave now for the bar, he thought. That way he would always arrive home when Manata and Natasha were asleep.

'Sipeyiye.'

He jerked around in reflex. Natasha's friend, Sue was standing behind him and he hadn't seen her. Even her instincts were dying!

'How long have you been here?' he demanded, offering his hand. She stretched hers as well.

'Sorry to startle you,' she apologized.

'No it's ok. Any particular reason why you're here?'

'No, I just wanted to know whether I possibly can see Natasha. She promised to come. I'm really missing her.'

'Have you tried the phone?'

'Yes, but I thought of dropping at your place to see her. How is she doing these days?'

'Perfectly fine.'

So what she wanted was to drive with him home. Sue didn't have a car, alright.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'But I won't be leaving for home until after midnight. I was just about to leave for the bar.'

'Mm.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Never mind. I might as well join you if you don't mind. I'll try to see her tomorrow.'

'Fine.'

'No, problem, what's more, I also wanted to go to the bar. I'll see her some other day.'

They walked along the marble pavement in silence, beyond the glowing swimming pool and up the stairways.

A lot of things happened that day. For example Sipeyiye discovered that Sue didn't smell that bad. She would actually recommend cologne to anyone who went after Natasha. He also realized she wasn't the most difficult girl on earth.

Inside himself, Sipeyiye found that he had become sentimental of late. What he wanted was an easy outlet for his gnarled emotions.

'Look Sipeyiye, I don't pry into other people's lives, but I care about them,' said Sue as they sipped their drinks in the bar. Her speech was now slightly slurred from having had too much to drink.

'I understand you,' he said over the glass of amarula. It was now some time ago since he had last played games with a woman other than Natasha. Sue was velvet dark in complexion. The most interesting features on her though were the eyes that were tear-rimmed. She had bushy eyebrows and long eyelashes. They kept on searching his face suggestively.

'As it so happens I also care about Natasha and you. Or to put it in other words, I especially care about you two. And I wish you two happiness.'

'How nice of you.' He tried to maintain his composure, but he was aware that she had slipped off one of her sandals below the table and was now tapping his leg with her foot.

'I'm saying this, perhaps you didn't know.'

He chuckled, but her mouth didn't crack a smile.

'I'm serious,' she glared. 'Well, I'm suspecting you're a bit worried and I can prove it.'

'Go ahead.' He called for two more glasses of amarula.

'Well, for a start, you two aren't moving together these days. There is no life in your life. And some of the things I've heard you say break the heart.'

Sipeyiye raised an eyebrow, but quickly checked himself. He was talking to himself at the time she was standing behind him. He couldn't imagine she already knew of their HIV status, otherwise she would not be talking to him right now.

'I wish I could do a little more for you,' she said resignedly as she poured down the last contents of her drink in her mouth.

He thought, yes or no, yes or no? But she didn't let go just then.

'And take this.' She tore a piece of paper from her diary and scribbled her address and number. 'Reach me when you can,' she said.

Sipeyiye took it, looked at it briefly and slipped it into his pockets.

'Can you do that?'

'I think so.'

'And did I tell you that you're awful lonely?'

'You did.'

'Well, I can change that. When will that be?'

'I'll have to consider it.'

At this Sipeyiye laughed again, called for another two more bottles of beer. 'You're drunk, Sue,' he said

'Well, tomorrow. Fine?' She worked so seriously on it. And at this, Sipeyiye was convinced there was far much less that she didn't know about him.

# Chapter 46

It was past midnight when he finally came home. And as always, Natasha and Manata were fast asleep. He wondered why he was still coming here. Natasha and he have since ceased to be lovers. He was slowly making it up, a break up that showed clearly who was right or wrong.

He had reasoned that simply walking away would hurt him more than it would her. As it was now, Natasha seemed to be fully occupied with Manata. But it was still worth all this trouble. By chance maybe, the baby might be HIV negative. And he might grow up to be a big man. And he would be glad. And he would look behind himself and say, hey, there was a moment I had lost all hope in life. And he still loved Natasha and loved her dearly.

Alcohol about him... He took a bath and soaked his clothes in water. He came out in his martial arts suit. In the bedroom, Natasha was sound asleep, curled up and as always, lovable and innocent. The girl had a way, and even while asleep she would still keep her composure. If he ever walked out of her life, her looks were the one thing he would keep.

He headed for the kitchen. His supper was prepared and in the warmer as usual. He had eaten at the restaurant, but it was always his custom to eat again. Continuous exercises always made sure his appetite was second only to that of a hungry lioness.

Just then he noticed a note on the table. It was a paper from a pad and held down by a spoon. He went over it. He couldn't believe his eyes, so he read again, slowly.

Sipeyiye,

It's unfortunate we haven't been seeing each other of late. It's the most awful when I want to discuss the future of our baby with you. I reason you're doing it deliberately. Look, 24 hrs is quite some time, so is 7 days. You can't tell me you can't squeeze in an hour for me?

All this boils to one thing: we're slowly breaking apart. And it's most unfortunate on our baby, who will certainly need the most of love. And who may have one parent, probably not me. It has occurred to me again that I should have abortion.

Wake me up if you want. I may see the doctor tomorrow.

Natasha

He read it again. Sweat prickled his skin. Now, Natasha had gotten him. There wasn't a thing worse than this. It was death in its purest state.

Could he discuss this and come to a conclusion, he wondered? That was out of the question. There had been rows, but nothing had come out of them. She was beyond redemption. She thinks it's easy to kill. She would leave her like that. There wasn't a thing she would do without him.

What she probably wanted was for him to apologize. To tell her that he was wrong. But he wasn't! She was. And he wasn't going to do that.

He reached for a smudged paper that he had transferred to martial art suit.

He straightened it and dialled the number.

The phone rang for several minutes, and it was finally picked up.

'Hello.' Sue's voice sounded bored.

'You must be asleep, sorry.'

'Who's speaking?'

'Sipeyiye. Sipeyiye Mohyi'

She giggled at the other end. She had looked so stern in the bar, which was now difficult for Sipeyiye to comprehend. 'I thought you promised to phone tomorrow,' she said.

'It's already past midnight.'

'Oh,'

'Well, can I come over?'

'Just as you please. Who am I to deny you wherever you want to go?'

He hung up. He opened a bottle of wine and appreciated its power as the alcohol hit his stomach again. On finishing, he went into the night that was already filled with dew.

He couldn't keep pace with Natasha. He could simply forget for the meantime.

# Chapter 47

The note was still there on the table. She had pinned it down with a spoon when she left to sleep. Now the paper had shifted positions slightly, the spoon on its own. Sipeyiye had shifted it all right.

She heard him come in at the earliest moments of dawn. She pretended to be asleep. She heard him coming up to wash. She heard the shower running and she actually peered to see him changed into his suit. He went into the kitchen; that he always did. A brief silence followed which she was sure had everything to do with the note.

And he made a call. She wasn't able to pick the words, but he had gone out then. He never came back.

That was the man she loved. The father of the child she was carrying.

Her heart skipped a beat.

She massaged her stomach.

There were many reasons the baby shouldn't live now. Already the world didn't seem a welcome place for him. At birth he would probably be minus his health and minus his father. What was life going to be like to him? And anything could happen. She might not even be there to stand alongside him.

She had seen so much in life. She had seen children dying at birth. And more she had seen life being imposed on people who didn't like it. The result: hunger, the streets, prisons, criminals...Welcome to Africa. There was at least one way to let a person live a little less than a wild animal: bear and dump. She had wondered if there was no better place the Creator had prepared that they would rather be in. The difference between her and the rest of the humanity was, she believed that place exists.

But, because Man, when he thinks of the world, he thinks of himself. Like what will I do without that child? Rarely, he thinks, what will the baby do without him.

Selfishness. ..That's what it is. Natasha wasn't going back on her plan on abortion.

She prepared breakfast but did not touch her share. It sat there in a tray on the table, untouched. She thought over the whole plan. Maybe, it was Manata who was obscuring her to look at the situation accurately. Maybe she was just disturbed by the loss of Sipeyiye's love and the loss of her health? Or even revenge?

As a compromise though, she thought she must phone Sipeyiye. 'Hello, the editor, the Truth.' His voice sounded businesslike on the other end. She thought she must ignore that.

'Well, it's Natasha. How're you?'

'Pretty fine. Thanks for phoning.' His voice was flat and still lacked affection. God, how she missed him! How she wished to see him get over this.

'I suspect you did come home yesterday.'

'I did.' He said it rather too fast, his voice edgy.

'And you saw the message in the kitchen, that I must have an abortion?'

A stunning silence followed.

She said, 'because I thought I should go to the hospital today.'

She heard him heaving sigh. It wasn't only she who was having some extremely hard times.

'You see, I still want your opinion on this. Well, we might be strangers, but don't forget there is still a baby between us. I know you were strongly against it, some chapter you didn't understand in the Holy Bible. But, I don't think it's time to hold on to those foolhardy rules. '

Still there was no response.

'And if I should go for the abortion, you know you should be here with me. I need your hand, and I need it badly.

'No ways,' he squawked. 'You have never needed anybody; otherwise you wouldn't be having that urchin in your house.'

'Sleep the poor child off, Sipeyiye. We're talking about the baby.'

'And you said you want my opinion on the baby?' He was visibly annoyed.

He didn't get there alone. She snapped. 'Yes'

'I prefer to have nothing to do with that.' And he slammed the phone in her ears. Natasha couldn't believe her ears. It couldn't be Sipeyiye! Was this then the final stage of their breaking up?

If Sipeyiye couldn't be there, she would simply go ahead with what she had on mind. She was feeling weak. And talking to Sipeyiye had an effect of confusing her the more. Like now, she wasn't sure whether she should proceed or quit, and that wasn't her way of doing things.

She entered the bedroom and knelt beside the bed. She said a prayer, and she felt calm thereafter.

Manata, who had finished doing the dishes, had gone out. She followed him. She found him among other children, playing hide and seek. On having told him that she will go to the hospital and having stressed he shouldn't leave the house, she left. She would have liked to go with him, as he had proved that he was the only and greatest company she had, but thought maybe he would get bored as she away for a longish time.

A painful stack of work lay on the table, but he was already dying to be out. He snatched at the necktie that lay on the table and pulled it around his neck. He heaved himself out of the chair and circled the desk. He took one last look around the office and closed the door.

'I might not be coming back today.' He murmured to the secretary as he passed the adjoining room.

She nodded.

Natasha had phoned twenty minutes ago. Bullshit!

How could she do that, even think of it? The child was the only and the last thing they were living for. He had dealt with her just fine. He had refused to have anything to do with it. That will leave her in a dilemma. That would also slow her down a little.

But in a way, she had had a part in spoiling his day. His head was already whirling and he was longing for cool booze. But first, he would see Sue.

Quite a number of people jammed themselves with him as he descended with the lift. Most of them were journalists who greeted him with nervous smiles. He wondered what they thought of him; probably that he was the happiest person on earth.

On the ground, he paced gladly towards his car. His hands were stuck in the pockets, and he directed his gaze to the ground, avoiding the eyes of people.

He stood leaning on the car, enjoying the combined effect of the wind and the sun. There were times he had enjoyed this in Cape Town, at Kariba, in Dar es Salaam with Natasha beside him. It all looked like a dream now, something he couldn't reach anymore.

He got into the car when he thought it was getting hot. As he started the car, the Pajero spluttered. It stirred a cloud of smoke behind and it turned dead again. He tried it again, now more patiently and careful. There was more smoke emitted, forming a screen about him, but the car went silent again.

He clicked his tongue in disgust, came of the car and made his way to the bonnet.

This thing was getting old, he reflected. A painful number of wires presented themselves on opening the bonnet. He was surprised at how complicated this thing could be when you have only a degree in Media Studies. He fumbled with the wires hoping that by God's grace, he would find some disconnected wires. He didn't. All hope shattered, he returned to the car. He started it again, just for the sake of. It came to life, much to his surprise. When he revved it and set it into motion, it obeyed. He thought it was playing tricks with him, but it wasn't.

'This thing can be damn funny,' he said aloud as he drove off.

Natasha sat on a bed, her legs dangling. Blinds had been pulled around her to form a complete enclosure.

This place, the hospital, was where she had first realized she was HIV positive.

The doctors and nurses were friendly. That's why she had come here for prescriptions, and even for the abortion.

Even if they were not, surely nobody would have expected her to go back o her private doctors, especially now that she couldn't be going together with Sipeyiye. How embarrassing!

A nurse came in dressed only in white. She checked the instruments above her and all around her, testing them. Contented with their functioning, she went out.

So this was the place her baby was going to die. She said to the baby, 'I love you. I love you. That's why I'm doing this.'

The doctor came in at that moment, in a white dustcoat.

'Eh, Natasha, are you sure you want to do this?'

'I'm sure I want to do it,' she whispered.

He enclosed her nose and mouth with a chemical. It took away all her strength and she collapsed into a deep dream.

She had just enough time to say to the baby one more time, 'I love you.'

# Chapter 48

She was slumped back in the couch, legs flung to the coffee table. A pop musical programme hammered on the television, but she wasn't concentrating. She cradled a glass of amarula in her hand, which she sipped at slowly.

There was a gentle knock at the door. Before she could respond, the door slid open. It was Sipeyiye, and all her nerves screamed. She had seen him here at this time of day for a long time. A stranger in her house! She wondered what had brought him home early today. The last time she had seen him was a fortnight ago.

He slumped himself into the sofa, just opposite her. He was superbly smart, an observation that startled Natasha.

'Good evening,' Manata cut in through the silence. Sipeyiye nodded.

'Well, how are you?' Sipeyiye said to Natasha. He was sprawled in a sofa, looking completely exhausted.

'Awful bad.'

Natasha followed his gaze until it rested on her stomach. A red flush rushed to his face. Natasha could have sworn she saw sweat on his face. He mopped it with his hand.

'You will do with a glass of coke while I prepare supper?' she said as she rose. She brought him a bottle and a glass before she disappeared in the kitchen again.

Preparing supper, she would walk around and peer in the lounge. She knew exactly what was on his mind. Where's my baby? You can get killed for such a thing in Tuzuka. But Sipeyiye should realize that this wasn't Tuzuka, anymore. And the babies these days reside inside the woman's body, not his.

That he probably knew by now; her stomach was flat because she had had an abortion. He probably wanted to look at her right then. But why? Had she not phoned him? Had she not written to him? And had he not ignored her on both occasions.

The next time she entered the lounge, he was still sitting lazily, fingering the rim of the glass. He was gazing intensely at Manata, his hatred for him unconcealed.

He probably thought the poor boy was the cause of all this. And how wrong.

'I'm through,' she said.

He didn't respond. Manata, who was ever uncomfortable with Sipeyiye's gazes, left for kitchen, glad to be away from him.

'You're going to sleep right after this, isn't it?' she said to Manata blowing a smile when she joined him.

'I'm not feeling sleepy yet,' he argued.

'No ways, you should he in your blankets by now,' Sipeyiye boomed from behind, his tone clearly aggressive.

Natasha looked at him, suppressing an outburst of anger. That wasn't his baby.

Manata gobbled his food down and left immediately, now that he had been told in a voice that wasn't open to negotiations.

'You shouldn't have done that, you know,' she responded gulping down the amarula.

He was towering over her, his manner clearly rude.

'You don't tell me what to do, do you?' he challenged.

Natasha couldn't believe her ears.

'Hold yourself, Sipeyiye,' she said in a controlled voice.

She followed Manata to the bedroom. It was better that way, sitting here with Sipeyiye was likely to result into something they would both regret.

She turned the knob to Manata's bedroom. She didn't open, but quickly knocked. Manata was thirteen and beginning to demand a little privacy. 'My friends say it's not good to open other people's letters or bedrooms without knocking,' he had said someday. 'And what did you say?' she asked. 'Oh what would I say? The truth of course. My mom opens doors, isn't it?' Natasha had laughed.

As she thought of it now, there was a smile on her face.

The first on the day.

'Come in,' he called.

She opened the door and walked in. Manata had a talent, and it wasn't to keep an unhappy face.

'I thought I should be asleep now,' he said cheerfully, all smiles.

'That's right. I've only come to say goodnight, honey.'

'Then say it.'

'Goodnight, lovie.'

'Goodnight, Mom.'

Mom. The title seemed worthwhile to her life. She left a little light-headed.

As she walked back to Sipeyiye, she wondered how different the two were. Manata had nothing. A boy who belonged to the street but was somehow happy. Sipeyiye had everything. He had never known difficulties in his life. The man who made news in Bulawayo, but really unhappy. How ironical!

'Sipeyiye, I think I should sleep now,' she said to him.

He was now in the lounge. God, he hadn't eaten her food!

The amarula had now disappeared from the bottle though.

'I thought you have gone to sleep,' he said.

'No, I was just seeing him off.'

'That's fine.'

'Pardon?'

'You know what I mean. There is no need for that.'

Once again, anger clouded her, but with all her mighty power, she managed to stay calm. How long shall this go on, and who the hell does he think he is? She had enough worries without him.

'You see, Sipeyiye, you're getting to my nerves,' she managed to say, perching herself on the sofa.

'Perfectly fine. I think you can also see that there is no need to pretend we're heading somewhere. You're just messing around with everything.'

'Now what's this bullshit, Sipeyiye. You slammed the phone in my ears.' She understood clearly the subject they were coming up with.

'And you decided to have the abortion, just like that?' He smiled, and managed to mock her.

'You know exactly why abortion was necessary in this case. But you couldn't even talk to me, Sipeyiye.'

He left the sofa and started pacing the room.

'I confess,' he said quietly. 'I've never seen anybody like you. I mean, you're sort of frightening. You have killed, Natasha. I've no idea how many times you have done it the past and how many times you'll do it in the future.'

Natasha's heart sank.

'And this child we're keeping here.' He raised his arms fractionally in air. 'You let me down, Natasha. This child isn't supposed to be here. At least, shouldn't be here without our agreement. Without our full arrangement.'

'I wonder what harm he's doing. We have enough to feed him. And God, we need a living soul here, not merely you and I.'

'That doesn't make a lot of sense at all. You can't just pick someone from the street and make him replace the child in your womb.'

'Sipeyiye...'

'Look, Natasha. I've a feeling you're out of your mind. Why did you have this abortion?'

'It can't be helped, Sipeyiye. We're HIV positive. That would endanger the life of the child as well as mine.'

'I' Sipeyiye chirped in. Natasha lost her bearing.

'I, not we,' he clarified.

Natasha lost her control. Before she had time to think, she was on him inflicting blows. He remained calm, holding her hands bondage. He let her go, and retreated around the couch.

'No ways are we are going stay here together again, Sipeyiye,' she wailed at the top of her voice, charged with fury.

'You can't be serious, of course.'

'You want to bet?'

Sipeyiye had tempered with the delicate part of her. She whirled to the bedroom with the entire torrent or a tornado. She was in his built in wardrobe, bringing down everything of his she could lay hands on and carrying it to the lounge in untidy bits.

'See what you can do with this. I may not need it tonight. Might not need this for the rest of my life.'

Sipeyiye just sat there, dazzled with the sudden change of events. He surely hadn't expected this so soon. But then that has always been Natasha's way of doing things. She had good eyesight for the future. This was definitely going to happen, no matter how much they would postpone it. Or pretend it was never going to happen. And she couldn't wait for him to walk out of her life. She was in control.

'In that case, I'll leave.'

He started carrying his goods downstairs. Natasha never stopped piling things in the lounge: shaving machine, tennis rackets, clothes, shoes, and books. She was determined to see everything gone.

How embarrassing, thought Natasha? But who gave a damn?

In about half an hour, he had finished, and Natasha was now exhausted because of the fight. And at this time, Sipeyiye entered to collect the last of his goods.

'And sometimes, you let your temper control you, Natasha,' he said standing behind her, his voice resigned.

'And sometimes, I don't beat about the bush. You can't live with me, because I'm HIV positive, to quote you. You desperately need the child that I can't deliver because of circumstances. And circumstances that I can't control. If you can't stand it, you exit.'

'Are you sure you're doing the right thing?'

'As sure as sunrise.'

'And who comes after me, dear?'

'Nobody, of course, you can be dead sure of that,'

'I'm out of here' he paced to the door. Then as he reached the door, he turned to her.

'You see, Natasha,' he said. 'I've a mind you got this disease from somewhere else. I mean, I was dealing with a whore.'

What? Her immediate instinct was to reach for the cushion beside her. She hurled it at him. He was too quick for her. He simply closed the door behind him and walked away.

As the car started in the background, she rose to watch it through the bathroom window. It glowed with the street lightning. The wheels screeched angrily with the tarmac, the temper almost matching its driver's.

She turned back to the lounge.

Manata was standing behind her, a hint of sorrow on his face.

'And what are you doing here?' she hissed. 'You should be asleep, isn't it?'

'Is he gone?' he responded with another question.

'Who?'

'Him.'

Of course it was still difficult for Manata to give Sipeyiye a title. He still found it difficult to address him as 'dad', a title Sipeyiye would definitely not appreciate. Just as it was difficult for him to address Sipeyiye as 'sir' since Natasha had forbidden him to use the title 'madam'.

She didn't respond to the question straightaway. No, she shouldn't tell the truth. The truth hurt. It's abusing the child.

But he would know eventually, so why lie?

'He's gone, but don't you worry about anything, because everything will be all right. We shall soldier on.'

'But he was so lovely mom, don't you think? Why have you let him go?'

Because he didn't love you. Because he can't live with us. Because he's so busy mourning himself. And the answers broke her heart.

Tears prickled her eyes. She didn't respond to the question, but quietly led him back to the bed.

She thought of it again as she lay down to sleep. There are a whole lot of things that children can do, that adults can't do. They can forgive and forget. They can love unconditionally. And for a moment, she congratulated herself for not thinking of Sipeyiye.

# Chapter 49

All hell breaks loose

Our little lives

Round and round in swirls

Hanging on the strings edge

Who shall be served?

Manata hummed the song alone, not even knowing he was. He would break into a tune at the slightest opportunity. Good practice, maybe this was, and he was definitely growing into a great singer.

It was morning at the earliest signs of sunrise. As he slid the bathroom window open, he wondered if he should wake up Mom. If she was leaving for work, she was running late. But she hadn't gone to work the previous day, so she probably was doing it deliberately. He stripped off his pyjamas, leaving everything on the floor. He stepped into the shower. He rolled over the curtain. The water ran down on him. He held his breath.

He stepped aside and sighed. He began to sing again, louder. He rubbed the soap into his head, the song still under his breath. He washed it off, and then rubbed soap on the towel.

As he dried himself, he thought how nice life was here. He had never known all this: his own room, warm baths, completely free days, lots of friends and a parent who didn't say what should be done and what shouldn't be done.

He threw his pyjamas into the laundry basket. Mom had brought him as a worker in the first place. She was now strongly against him doing his own laundry. He felt guilty. Maybe he would do some of the laundry after all. Mom was always busy. And the time she did the household work was in the evening or early morning. She was supposed to be resting then.

He had said to her, 'Honestly Mom, I can do all this when you're at work. I've nothing else to do but to eat.'

'There isn't much work, dear,' she had said. 'Thank you so much.'

She had been silent. But she had asked a bit later, 'Is it interesting to stay at home?'

'Very interesting,' he had responded honestly.

'And you have friends now?' His friends were sometimes rude to him, only sometimes. Otherwise, they were good.

'Yes, I've them.'

'I suspect it's boring here,' she had said. 'I was planning to send you to school. Forget about it being boring or not, you should go to school, you know.'

She had hadn't said the date. She hadn't said the school. But the idea had appealed to him slowly. School looked like fun now. All the children of his age were going to school around here. He was a fish out of water.

He wondered if he should remind her right now. Could it be that there was too much on her mind?

And it stuck on his mind that he had overheard a row between Daddy and Mom last night.

He continued to sing, now sorrowfully.

Natasha was sound asleep. She lay on her stomach. The sun shone into the room through a vent in the curtain. She had lain awake, but at the fall of dawn, she had slept heavily.

Manata's voice wafted into the room. She shifted a little in her sleep. She changed sides. Partially awake, she listened to the seething sound. It triggered every sense in her. For a moment, she was lost in the glory of the song, pretending she was a happy woman.

She opened her eyes. They ached at the sight of sun.

She was late!

She flung the blankets away. She swung out of the bed. She pushed her legs into the sandals.

She stared at the vacant bed that was meant for two people. It has been slept by one person today. Memories flooded back to her.

She quickly left the room as her eyes misted. She was feeling tired.

'Who's singing in there?' she called as she passed the bathroom.

The water stopped running. 'An angel Mom,' came the reply.

Natasha laughed. That silenced Manata straightaway. He preferred to let his actions pass unnoticed.

Natasha asked, 'and what could it be that you're doing in there?'

'Some laundry,' was the reply.

'Am I allowed to enter?'

'Indeed.'

He was leaning against the tub, scrubbing the clothes that had piled in.

It always broke her heart to see him doing that. He seemed to be doing it so earnestly like he was paying for the love she had for him. He was still too young to go through all that.

'Why don't you leave that?' she said persuasively, 'and prepare some breakfast. I'll finish off when I return.'

He didn't put up a fight.

She showered. She changed into her workplace outfit. When she finished, breakfast was ready. She had no appetite. Manata loved to see the fruit of his labour appreciated though, so she gobbled it down.

She was thirty minutes late when she left.

'Manata, I'll see you when I come back,' she called out.

Manata came out racing

'I was just wondering,' he rasped. 'When will I go to school?'

It has been a fortnight since she had promised him school. She had done nothing about it. She was too busy. He wanted uniforms, a place and some company to school. Of course, there was always a force that could have been against this: Sipeyiye. But he was gone now, so what should stop her? Manata wasn't to stay here idle. He would end up being mischievous.

'I promise,' she said curtly. 'Tomorrow, you will go to school.' Natasha was a woman of action.

With that, she walked out.

Her secretary was already there. She must have arrived late, too. She was logging on the machine at 9:00.

'Morning, Mrs. Mohyi,' she said. She hasn't made what was between Sipeyiye and her that public. This woman had a nose though. There were days Sipeyiye had frequented her workplace. The message she had given was: let Mr. Mohyi reach me at anytime he wants, no matter how busy I'm. The tale had gone on, in the right direction then.

Not that the woman was bad, that's far from the truth. She was one of the most charming women she had ever known. But Natasha wasn't used to failures in her life. She wondered how she could get over Mrs. Mohyi without looking small.

'I'm ok, Mrs Rudzi, And you?'

'If you're ok yourself.'

Mrs. Rudzi was a late fiftyish-old type of woman. She wore an old type of perm. Her suits were tailored, too upright to look nice. Natasha had a tendency of treating her as her mother in matters that didn't concern business. She had this habit of treating Natasha as her child, instead.

There was a mountain of work on the table. She hadn't come for work yesterday. She flopped into the chair, and she wondered the hell where she was to begin.

There was a notice on the table: a meeting at ten on the monthly budget. The head accountant wanted his report, which she had only half completed. She would complete the report. The meeting! No she would not go.

'Mrs. Mohyi, can I make you a cup of coffee?' Mrs. Rudzi popped in.

'No, I'm ok.'

Mrs Rudzi didn't move an inch.

She was looking at her. 'You look tired,' she said after a moment.

So it showed that her life was at terrible mess. 'Do I?'

'Enough to sue Mr. Mohyi for it. He isn't keeping you well.'

Natasha smiled wryly. 'Hold it there.' She paused. Then she made a face. 'Because he's gone forever. But as you said, if it was he, I'll soon be all right.'

'Don't you say that,' voice dropped.

At noon, Natasha was out of the office she promised herself that she would go shopping. She was doing just that. She had been less involved with her household work. She would have to learn again now that Sipeyiye was gone. She moved about, the wind on her face.

She went into one shop after another. She purchased toiletries, foodstuffs, utensils. She bought assorted groceries at Spar and paid her bills around town. She felt better. She had a hearty meal at Wimpy's.

Having gone through all that, she thought she should start off with Manata's business. She had a mental note of the possible schools to look for a place. At the top of the list was St Monica, a school just outside town. It was at some walking distance from home. She would have to buy Manata a bicycle later, but of course the nearer it was, the better.

She went to the school in person.

She arrived in time to see the pupils having just dismissed and scattered about the school premises.

The person she met was a Mr. Scott. He claimed to be the deputy headmaster.

'I'm Natasha, Natasha Chuma,' she said

'And how can I help you?'

'I'm looking for a place for my child.'

'You mean you have a child?' He searched her face. She knew her appearance were greatly deceiving. The deputy headmaster was middle-aged. If places were scarce here, she would use the power of her looks to get one.

'No, no. I'm staying with a boy who needs a place.'

His face glowed. 'That was a bit startling.'

Natasha blew a smile. 'You really think so?' Did he know that she was HIV positive, she wondered?

'I'm afraid the places are filled.'

Natasha had expected this.

'But... I can squeeze you one,' he explained.

'I don't know how you can best handle him.' She had already found a place. 'He's thirteen and he has only gone up to grade three. If you have a special class that would help him cover up. He might even sit for the grade 7 examinations next year.'

'I understand you, madam, but I think you appreciate that such a service requires a lot of your input as well. I mean, we have quite a number of children here that even if we would put him in special class, we'll not be able to cover the course completely in only two years.'

'I'll do my best.'

He slid two sheets of papers across the table. One had the rules and regulations of the school and the fees. The other was the form she was to complete and she did.

'Can I bring the child tomorrow?' she asked

'We don't allow pupils without uniforms.'

But there was a promise she had made to Manata that she could not break. 'I've already prepared for that.'

'How would you be so certain you'd get a place here?'

She hadn't expected this. 'I knew I would meet you.' She knew she was spreading the wrong message. She noticed he made some mental notes from the paper she had written.

'Is this Miss or Mrs?' Of course, that was inevitable.

'Miss.'

He glowed.

'Thank you very much,' she said as she rose to leave.

She knew it wasn't to be a week before her phone rang. She was so used to it. And then what? She also knew she would never attend any of his parties or agree to a lunch. And he will phone, phone and phone. Again for the next two years. He was just a man, and men are all the same.

She was happy with her day's progress. She had managed to keep herself occupied, but hadn't strained herself. That was quite a triumph especially in moments like these. But above all she managed to accomplish something for Manata, too.

At times she would be surprised with herself for finding love in all the strange places. There were many like Manata back home, but here she was with a stranger. But nothing is as important as the heart, and she really felt she was doing this of her own free will. She had broken all the forces that had bound her.

And the fact that such a thing had never happened made her love him all the more. It showed that any man can define his own system and live with it. No matter how wrong, until it becomes right.

She rushed into town to buy the boy the uniform.

# Chapter 50

School...

Manata woke up early. It was dark and freezing cold. School. He was happy. He prepared to go to school in a hurry.

Mom and he had to go out together.

'I'll hurry up to school before the first bell goes.'

Mom said. 'You should see the deputy.'

Manata wore the immaculate uniform, the full attire from toe to top. He felt elevated in it. They left when it was starting to clear up. It was still very cold when they knocked at the deputy's office.

When the deputy arrived, Mom quickly left him alone. Alone for sure because the deputy wasn't likeable even at first sight. He chained a series of questions all at once, so eager that they should be answered correctly that he rephrased some of his answers and demanded that he say them again.

When the siren wailed to announce the beginning of the day, all the other children ran off to a place Natasha slowly learnt was the assembly hall. These children were noisy and overzealous which made Manata feel ill at ease. Still, in the middle of the confusion, a teacher came up to him, fury registered on his face, when he saw Manata walking reluctantly down the hall.

'Can't you hear the siren?' He banged Manata in the head with a stick, much to Manata's awe. He ran down the hall in full flight. All the onlookers burst out laughing in applause.

In the hall the children stood in neat, solid rows. Every row he tried to join, the children in it shoved him aside. 'Go to your class,' they spat into his face, the whole row jeering at him.

He however consented himself with standing in his own row. But as somebody began to speak up front, the teacher who had hit him came up to him again.

'You're notorious too, aren't you?' he cried. 'Why are you not standing in your own line?'

'Which line?' Manata asked.

He stood there, ashen. 'Your line.' He jabbed the stick in his head. Manata retreated, very certain that the stick might split his head again. But the teacher was still on him.

'Go to your line. What grade are you doing?'

Manata's mind was blank. The deputy had told him his grade, but it wasn't a number. And phrases are difficult to remember.

'I can't remember.' He had picked it on the teacher. And very soon it was cat and mouse. Around the other children, to the back of the hall, flat out across the hall. The teacher charging like a bull. And the children shouting at the game.

Manata suddenly found himself in the deputy's arms.

'What's it?' the deputy asked

'Bring him here, deputy. Seems like we have ourselves some trouble here.'

'It can't be. This child had only come into the school?'

'But he can't stand in the line.'

The deputy turned to him. 'Is it true, Manata?'

'No, I only can't remember the class.'

'He's in the special class, teacher. Why, I will show him the class.'

'See.' There was a pause. 'He should be mentally retarded.'

'Yes indeed, teacher. You shouldn't have done that.'

The deputy headmaster took him to a crooked line. The children in it couldn't stand upright. They kept on giggling over things that weren't funny. Some of them were so huge, while some of them were so small, perhaps malnourished. By the time they walked out of the hall, Manata knew the meaning of mentally retarded. He was sorry that the term had been applied to him.

The special class had three teachers who all kept a stick ready in their hands. They made sure you didn't over scratch your head. They also made sure you didn't play kick on the other side of the desk below. Manata learnt they could make life as miserable as was possible.

He was given a number of books. One of the teachers demonstrated how they were supposed to be covered. On doing it, Manata did it so badly that he was told to do it again. Then again and again. He was completely tired when he finished, which was nearly time to dismiss. He couldn't believe, dare say, for the first day, the only thing he did was to cover books.

He dismissed at noon. As he walked out of the gate, Mom was waiting to pick him.

'And how was your day?' she asked, so keen to hear that he enjoyed it.

'Nice, very nice,' he answered with all the glamour he could put into his voice, but it was still flat.

'Don't worry. You'll soon enjoy it. And the deputy, was he nice to you?'

'Very, he saved me in time from a teacher, who had a stick, who didn't know I was new in the school.' He didn't come to the finer details of it. He said it all in a warm spirit. And God, it was awful irritating.

The following day didn't bring about much difference. The teacher in charge of him read him a note that he said he had received from the Deputy. He did it all businesslike and without affection.

'We should cover as much as we can in a year, because you're writing next year. And you're thirteen; most of your ages are already married. That means I'll have to deal with you harder that the rest.'

He meant every word of his. As they changed subjects, Manata could feel the pressure mounting on him. The teacher tolerated no mistakes. He simply meant business. During the fifth lesson, Manata was fingering his back battered with bruises. The teacher was working on him. He wondered what would happen if this continued. A year of the torture would transform him into a wreck!

He made his decision. He hated school!

That evening he said his position clear to Mom. He didn't seem to like it. If it was heading for anything, it was going to be the worse. Mom maintained that it would get better with time. He would look back someday with a smile on his face. He didn't press his views.

And on the third day, the tempo had increased still. He couldn't even breathe when he returned home. The teacher had sent him with a note for Mom.

'It says here that I should give you some extra lessons in Mathematics. He's saying your Mathematics is quite bad. '

So the mathematics lessons started. No matter how much comfortable Mom tried to make them, Mathematics is Mathematics. Some three hours of serious thinking every day, and he realized he couldn't even go out to play. Everything around him said school. Even in his dreams, he had hallucinations about school. He breathed, bred and bore school.

Not that there was much that came out of him. He was labelled dull right from the start, not only in Mathematics, but also in other subjects, although of course Mathematics was the worst. He found it increasingly difficult to excel, as was expected of him because he was older than the other children.

He lived with it for a month. Nobody understood his position. Nobody, not even Mom. The only time he would ever loosen up was during music lessons.

Then something more sinister happened.

They had finished school, and were now sweeping the floor with the other boys who were on duty. The teacher was there as usual to see that the duty was done diligently. They swept from the back to the front like a charging Zulu battalion until they could sweep the dirt through the door.

The boy next to Manata was leaving too much space between Manata and himself. Of course that was meant for Manata to sweep up. Manata was adamant. He didn't sweep up.

'Manata, why are you leaving all this space unswept?' the teacher asked.

'Because he's supposed to sweep it.' He pointed to the other boy.

'You shall sweep it.'

'I won't.'

That was worsening the already alight situation. All of a sudden, the teacher slapped him hard across the face. The whole class went silent at the crack of it. Manata was surprised he didn't hear its echoes. The pain built up with every pump of the blood. And then he could feel every finger of his burning on his face.

'Idiot.'

It was all of reflex. He said it without thinking. The street had taught him to speak like that. Such language came to him naturally. His reaction was not premeditated. He did what came to him almost involuntarily. You needed such arsenal on the streets. Weakness of any kind there could lead to your demise. They would probably think he was being rude, that he was ill-mannered and all that. What did it matter, really?

A violent, even fiercer slap shot across his face. For a moment he didn't know where he was. There were stars in his vision, and blinking lights. Everything seemed to be in slow motion. It felt like being pushed to one side with the whole body of his agreeing. He saw himself slowly struck and ever so slowly the teacher's arm went into recoil position, ready for another hit.

Now the pain, oh the pain! The throb in his poor battered head was maddening.

'Why are you hitting me?' he asked wanting genuinely to know.

He threw the broom away and, as if driven by some compulsive force, advanced towards the teacher.

The teacher moved back to allow enough space for another nerve shattering crack on his face. But this time Manata was too quick for him. He crouched, leaving enough space for the teacher to continue an arch in the air. But this game had been played a little too far and Manata slid his leg between him, sending the tall frame flat on the ground.

The surprise was greater than the pain. The teacher yelled in disbelief. Then he rolled over to close his eyes, falling flat on the floor. The other two teachers rushed forward, but immediately checked themselves as if Manata was some scared animal. Manata looked around, all the anger gone. He had done wrong, but this wasn't the time to regret.

He stormed out of the class and nobody dared raise a finger against him. He walked along, looking over his shoulder, ready to sprint if there was somebody following, but there was no one.

At the gate, he stopped, looking around for Mom, but she wasn't there yet. It was obvious they'll follow him here and send him to the Calvary to the cross. He looked around at the possible places he could hide, but there was none. There were a few shrubs here and there, but when they truly wanted him, they would search high and low.

And they would find him. Could be tomorrow, next or next of next month. But they would find him. Definitely! So as to nail him. He had seen some boys being escorted to the headmaster and he knew exactly how miserable life could be.

He walked away, hands in the pockets. He walked slowly thinking. Now, all hell had broken loose. He walked, slowly disappearing in the horizon until he couldn't be seen from the gate.

He didn't want school. Could it be better if he returned to his aunt?

Natasha brought the car to a halt, but left it rumbling. A number of children were scattered about the gate, but she couldn't make out Manata. She looked at the watch. She was minutes late and Manata would surely have been waiting by now. She switched off the engine and disembarked.

Heads turned to her as she walked across the gate: children who were waiting for their parents or who were still reluctant to go home. She picked her way along the corridor, and knocked at the special class, three doors to the left.

A man's voice ordered her in.

'It's you?' one of the teachers exclaimed. His voice was calm. They were around the table, discussing what seemed like a very important business. She sensed her presence wasn't welcome and she immediately said, 'Can I've my boy Manata?'

'He's gone,' one of them responded. He didn't add another word.

'Ok, thank you.' She had expected more than that, but she couldn't put a finger on it. She told herself not to be silly. She eventually settled on that Manata had gone home on his own since she was late. It fitted and she was happy with it.

She drove home.

# Chapter 51

She tried the door. It was locked. She had expected to see it open if Manata was at home. She clamped the keys in the keyhole, her nerves stuck tight with anticipation. She opened the door slowly, not wanting to believe what she was seeing in every waking second, which wasn't Manata.

She set the door ajar.

The door to the kitchen was partially open. The cushions neat on the sofas.

Just the way she had left them.

She dumped her handbag on the table. She proceeded to the kitchen. The stove was cold. Utensils and plates lay recklessly in the sink, just as she had left them in the morning. Nothing was there to show the presence of a human being. She left her senses sharper. The silence was loud. The loneliness haunted her.

The hell, where was Manata?

She slid open the bathroom door. The tap went drip-drop in the tub. The smell of soap in the air. The sun streaming in through the window. Manata wasn't here. She went to the bedroom. His bed was superbly done. A pair of shoes at the end of the bed. The room as lonely as a single dove. There was no sign that a human being had recently been here.

'Manata! She called her voice alarmed.

Nothing, only echoes answering.

'Manata-a-a.' Her voice was now shaky and it stimulated tears in her eyes.

At that time, it seemed she was scrambling at everything in the house. She came to the bottom of the television set by chance. She found the aunt's number by chance.

She dialled the City bar.

'City bar,' was the response at the end of the line.

'Can I speak to Revai Bvundu?' This was meant to be Manata's aunt.

There was a slight pause and then, 'who're you?'

'I'm her relation,' Natasha replied.

She couldn't bear to explain.

'Because,' the voice went on, '..... because ever since Revai disappeared with the man we don't know with money from the bar, we haven't heard of her.'

'Oh God!' she pressed her fingers to the eyes.

# Chapter 52

Natasha looked at the watch above her. Six O'clock. She would go now. She straightened her legs, pushing the table away with them. She dropped her paperback beside her and scrambled up. She outstretched her arms and patted a yawn.

It was about two weeks ever she missed Manata. All her efforts to find him were fruitless. She had tried the school. What she got was that her boy had done a little sacred thing. He hit the teacher. He stormed out of the school afterwards. She could try to find him herself, but they might not need him here anyway. If that was the case, Manata might have tried to escape to his aunt. But then the aunt wasn't there either.

She had gone to the bar. She had hoped she would pull up the last of the strings and establish where he was gone. Natasha needed someone to share this bad news with. Like she had been told on the phone, Manata's aunt had disappeared into thin air.

That brought the big question: where was Manata?

It was likely that the boy was loitering in the streets. He had the feel of the streets before and he would not be scared too much to once again make them his home. But with all the uncanny weather, Natasha hoped he would eventually turn up. A fortnight and she was increasingly becoming anxious.

She had eventually resorted to going into the streets and search for herself. But during the day, she would be busy at work. Besides, at day the streets would be flocked with all sorts to make out which was which.

She put on an overcoat in the bedroom. She also changed into high-kneed boots. She went around the whole house, closing windows and making sure everything was in order. Then she went outside into the night.

It had been raining continuously for a week. It was still misty and puddles of stagnant water littered the pavements. The street lamps tinkered against the mist making objects a few meters away dull. As dull as Natasha.

With her hands stuffed inside her pockets, she walked up Main St. slowly and vigilantly. People passed her, all rapping the pavement purposefully, the protective clothing clutched around them.

She debated whether she should follow the pavement or the avenues. The chances of finding her quarry were the same, so she merely continued up the street. She came to 13th Avenue, but there hadn't been anything she was looking for. She crept into a phone booth, thinking. She leaned against it, toying with the numbers on the phone. She did a silly game, punching the numbers of the people she knew. They would respond at the other end, and she would be immediately cut off. She would do it again, and they would respond, slightly irritated. She would do it again the third time. She would never tell them she did this.

There was still nothing in the vicinity when she finished. She changed streets and started down the street she had chosen. This street had more faulty lamps and as a result there were more activities. Here and there, she would come across a man and a woman fondling.

Three streets down, she came across a boy sitting on a concrete slab outside a bank. He was older than Manata. His elbows rested on his lap and his head was cupped into his hands. He looked so settled, so she thought she might as well talk to him.

'Excuse me,' she said

He was absent-minded, and he turned to her slowly..

'Well, I would like to ask.'

He rubbed his face and scrambled up. Natasha took further stock him. Any observer would have put him around the mid-twenties, but from her learned guess she knew he was perhaps only eighteen. His hair was rugged, and he had an unusually dark complexion even in the faint light of street lighting. He had shy eyes, but she knew that was flattering. Such boys could turn violent at the slightest provocation.

'Yes, you can ask.'

'I'm looking for a boy, Manata. I don't know, do you know him?'

He asked, 'Why do you want him?'

'He's my relative.' She fished a five dollar note from her jean trousers and passed it to him.

He brightened and whirled his eyes in disbelief. 'Yes, I know him,' he said.

'I'm looking for him. Where's he?'

'When did you last see him?'

'A fortnight ago.'

'I see.'

He started pacing about the place. He was bare-footed and his feet mixed the water and the mud beneath, but he seemed not to care. Life was not easy here on the streets, and this increased Natasha's will power to find Manata.

'But it appears the boy is always appearing and disappearing.'

The disappearing could have been the moment she was staying with him. That didn't appear important in their discussion.

Natasha's heart sank.

'But now ... now,' he continued,' I don't know ma'am.'

'But can you please, please,' she pleaded, 'look for him and bring him to me?'

'How? When?'

'We'll arrange a place we can meet every day that I may check the progress you have made.' She knew this was dangerous for her, too dangerous. Nevertheless, she continued, 'I'll pay you well.'

Again, there was a tinkle of delight in his eyes. 'Certainly, ma'am. Where can we possibly meet?'

She weighed the question mentally. This street was too dark. Why not the street next-door?

'In Main St, Thirteen Avenue. Let's say, check me in the telephone booth. Every day at 7 o'clock. I'll be coming with my husband,' she lied, just to scare him a little.

A number of boys appeared in the background, a trademark of cigarettes dancing in the air.

'Munya, what's this now?' one of them asked, pointing at Natasha. The others joined, their behaviour rowdy.

Natasha didn't have the time to say goodbye. She continued down the street.

It had started raining now. The rain slowly built into a steady torrent. She allowed it to beat her face until it drenched into her loins. She liked it as a way of punishing herself. Manata, if you're in this rain, well we are here together.

She came to the intersection of the roads and leaned on the roadside post, looking into the black sky. She allowed her mind to wonder. Sipeyiye. Home. Then back to the streets when a certain car that was passing flicked its lights up and down. It stopped. She returned instantly to her senses and began to pace away.

A man disembarked, much to Natasha's surprise. She quickened her step. She heard the car door click shut and his foot thuds racing to catch up with her.

She tensed as he approached.

He levelled up with her and Natasha fought an urge to run. Even worse to flee, which she thought was stupid. She was tense, as she consulted her martial arts lessons. She might go into action tonight. Well, she had done nothing wrong, and there was no man allowed to bully her, even on the streets of Bulawayo.

'Well can't you see us?' he asked

Us? He must really think he's a big one this man. He wasn't exactly steady on his feet and he staggered, sometime invading Natasha's personal walking space as they walked. Natasha had to be extra careful not to stumble into him.

'Well, how much do you charge?' His voice was slurry. Natasha confirmed he was drunk. There was also a tint of alcohol in his breath.

Natasha remained dumb and continued walking. Suddenly, he came in front of her.

She stopped dead in her tracks.

'I don't charge nothing!' she snapped.

'Well, you should.' The air smelled bad about him, and he was talking right into her nose.

She sized him up. He was heavily built with a week or so growth of beard on his chin. He was dressed in heavy amour of jeans. His shoes were heavy weight as well, with metal caps.

She circled around him and continued.

He was annoyed and took a handful of her coat into his hand.

'Gotcha, it's wet,' he said, leaving her. Natasha laughed to herself, only loud enough for her to hear.

But he continued to walk with her.

'What's wrong with you?' he demanded.

Still, no reply. They continued to walk in silence.

Eventually, he gave up with, 'I'll be with you in spirit.'

She was relieved with his departure. Thereafter, she continued with her search, but wasn't able to pick up anything.

Past midnight, she retired to her apartment. There wasn't much to blame on the progress of the day. At least, she had done something, no matter how small it was.

But she was still a long way from happiness, and she knew it.

I need you Jesus

To be my vision

You're the way

The truth, and the life.

Teach me understanding

Teach me to pray

Oh, I need you Jesus

To be my vision

You're the way

Let me understand once more

The sense of the blood

The covenant on Calvary

The blood to serve this world

This is my blood

This is my bread

Eat it in remembrance of me

I'll come again

When you see this happening

Wars, pestilence, famines...

Incurable diseases

The times are near

The second coming.

On that night

Before I knew you

You saved my soul

And delivered me from sin

Let me not forget

I'm a wonderer.

I don't know,

Tomorrow there'll be another drought

Could be another war

This vast land of the black

The book tells me so

Teach me to understand again

# Chapter 53

Leonard Karikoga Zhakata's Kundiso was playing in the lounge. Other sounds that could be heard were the swish of cars. From here, hunched at the slab of the tiny veranda, she could see the glow of cars beneath. She could also make out the density of the crowd, which was already thick on the sunny morning.

It was promising to be a busy day. There was a solid row of vehicles, their bodies shiny from the early sun, making their entrance into the city along Harare road. People streamed into the city along Main Street. Vendors had already lined themselves at the square, ready to begin their day.

Busy. You mind your own business. You make your own way. That's why she had abandoned her relations, her home because this place offered the opportunities. But what did everyone else think about her? That she had come here to feed her belly. No, she was here to feed her soul.

But HIV was threatening to pull down everything she had believed in. It was meant to punish her. It was meant to demoralize her. To make her feel bad about the decision she had made in life. There were so many ifs in her life she could reflect on, and perhaps if she taken a different turn at each point, she would have escaped this outcome. HIV was meant to punish her, humiliate her beyond measure, to confirm that the paths she had taken were wrong.

She straightened and stifled a yawn. She would have a head crash thinking of things that she could not change anymore.

Her overcoat and boots still lay on the floor, wet and with mud. She had just dumped them there when she came in the last night. The bed was still undone. The floor was littered. Everything was a terrible mess.

Suddenly she laughed to herself. 'He will make it.' She laughed again amused at her own voice. 'Sipeyiye will make it,' and she giggled the more.

She hadn't prepared supper and now she wondered what she would have for breakfast. She hadn't been done any shopping for quite some time. And there wasn't anything exactly edible here. She uncapped a bottle of cognac and poured herself a glass. She had been drinking so heavily in the last week to drown her worries. Needlessly say, she was fast crossing that line between a social drinker and an alcoholic. That was the last thing she wanted out of beer.

'He'll make it,' she shouted as she left the kitchen. She was feeling high all of a sudden. It was all unrealistic, but she had this tinkle of joy whenever she thought of Sipeyiye. She hoped he would come back again. It was something that lingered inside her, but that she had no guts to really pursue, knowing she would be forced to choose between him and Manata.

She stepped up the volume on the radio. Zhakata poured his heart out in emotional torrents that tore at her whole being. The song made her feel like life was shredding her. Her nerves were on edge. Nevertheless, she felt like being wild. She could afford it once in a while, and she loved it! She hummed along with the radio as she bathed.

After the bath she changed into a pair of blue jeans and a white shirt, currently her only set of clean clothes. She would have to do something about that soon. She put a hat over her head and examined herself before the mirror. She seemed to have become bony of late. Nothing that a good meal or two couldn't fix!

She locked up and left for RIM.

It was quite some time since her last visit there. She felt strange going there but she was at a loose end and needed to do something, anything. And she needed that breath of fresh air.

The sky had cleared up, a notable improvement from the day before. It was promising to be hot though. A number of children met her at the ground. 'How're you, boys?' she said with a radiant smile as she walked past them.

They were quite used to Natasha. There often were disputes that sometime broke into rows, with each one wanting to explain how their latest toy worked. Today they had smuggled a pot and some water from the house and taken some soil from the flowerbeds. The result, of course, was mud, which didn't look so friendly to Natasha's white shirt.

They scrambled up to her excitedly as she passed. 'Natasha, Natasha.' They screamed as they went after her in hot pursuit, but she outran them. Realizing the futility of their chase they gave it up and watched as she approached the car.

Natasha put the ignition key on, revved, engaged gear and backed out. She expertly manoeuvred the car out of the parking slot but spoiled it all when she turned the wheel too sharply and the power steering belt gave a screech. Women drivers, she said with a giggle. The children waved her off as she drove away.

She drove through town, wanting to pass along the place she first saw Manata. Unfortunately, she was locked behind a smoking vehicle that obscured her vision of the supermarket. It didn't make much difference to her, though. For the past fortnight she has been checking, but not even his name existed here.

The rest of the journey passed without incident.

As she was securing parking space though, she noticed a shiny, black jaguar beside her. This car had not been here the last time around. Whoever this man was, he was surely making a number of himself. She decided to indulge herself by killing time trying to figure out who he was; half the men at RIM had the capacity to buy a car like this one if they chose to do so. It was probably just a matter of time before the puzzle was solved.

She walked through reception feeling little less than a stranger. Very soon she would meet her mates and go through the usual routine: the polite greetings, the contrived ready smiles and innocuous little questions about why she hadn't been coming of late. And Sipeyiye... It wasn't so easy.

She wrote down her name against the list of people who had come to the premises. Surprisingly enough, just above her name was Sipeyiye's. She shuddered when she saw it. Heavens, she could hear the thud of his feet as he ascended the stairs. She followed behind him calmly. She wanted to meet him, just to say hello and know he was coping well. But when she came upstairs, she couldn't see him. He was probably in the man's changing room.

Sue was there, already in her martial arts gear.

'Girl,' she exclaimed, setting her hand flat on the chest. 'You break my heart. You couldn't even let me see you.' She pinned her in a hug, pressing her face to hers. Natasha returned the hug. 'And you're down to bones,' she remarked.

'I hope I didn't cause you too much worry. I think I lied to you sometime.'

'Don't bother yourself, girl.'

She patted Natasha on the back.

Natasha changed with Sue still shouting over her compartment. It was a discussion of sorts.

The two women left together with Sue's arm around Natasha's neck. Natasha told herself she was missing this badly. The problem with her was that she couldn't readily reciprocate the show of love and that made her feel bad.

Sue had second thoughts about walking on the floor barefoot. Her cologne enveloped them both, completely.

A man came out of the men's changing rooms as they walked along, his attention aroused by Sue's voice which was slightly too loud. She spoke that way deliberately to attract attention.

'Sadza, how're you?' Sue called out. 'Congratulations, I understand your wife was blessed with triplets.'

He was bashful but quick to reply, 'Well thanks. A point of correction though! Twins not triplets.'

Sue stopped. 'Mm,' she murmured. 'In either case, that was a splendid show. You know what you and your wife are: a hard working couple.'

She laughed out loud. The man retreated into the room.

Sue followed her in full flight and fell forward against Natasha's arm which became a buffer between her and the floor.

Natasha jerked forward from the impact of it. She was thinking, you should expect that sort of thing whenever you're with Sue.

They came to the stairs at the end of the stairs and descended. Natasha asked, 'Sue I was just wondering, what you consider the most important thing on earth?'

Sue gave a thoughtful little frown. 'One's career I think,' she said

'If I may ask, why are you asking that?'

Natasha heard Sipeyiye talking in the corridor. Her attention shifted from their conversation to him. They were now midway down the steps. Several men were in the company of Sipeyiye. They hung around most times in the hope of gaining the attention of the Truth. His profile had become that big.

Natasha's heart bit faster as he approached. She and Sue squeezed into a corner as the band of men passed. 'Girls,' he called as he passed.

It didn't mean anything to Natasha at first, but it slowly sank into her mind.

The man she loved just that, just that. 'Now let's start.' Sue dragged her.

They practised for more than an hour. Sue held Natasha's leg in the air, for Natasha to heave up and down.

'Mm,' she whined. 'Don't you think it's enough for today?'

Sue let go her leg.

'If you say so, it's ok with me.' She snatched at her towel from the hooker and they walked in silence across the hall.

'Natasha,' Sue suddenly said. There was an alarming seriousness in her voice. Natasha looked her in her eyes. 'I was wondering if you might let me know a number of things.'

'Sure enough, if I can.' She folded her arms across her chest and walked on slowly. Sue did the same.

'Well, it's highly private, but I believe I'm a friend.' And she blurted out. 'Seems you and Sipeyiye have a minor fracas.'

Natasha wondered why she was asking this. 'Something like it,' she said as she gave a short answer to shut Sue up. She would have preferred to have brought up the subject herself

'Come on, girl, I'm a shoulder you can lean on.'

Sue said this with the air of someone who was streetwise. This always had the effect of dwarfing Natasha.

'You wanna talk about it? Why did he decide to do that?'

'I had a clinical abortion, you see,' Natasha said straightening her stomach. 'I think you know that my health has become somehow complicated of late. But it seemed all he lived for was a baby. So somehow, we parted ways.'

'Oh, I see. I'm sorry you're going through all this,' said Sue with searching eyes. 'And could it be that you have gone for HIV tests?'

Natasha stopped dead in her tracks. How could anybody have known that? 'How did you come to know that?' she glared.

'Steady with it. We are talking about you.'

'You see, Sue, I don't want to talk about this.'

This time Natasha held her in a gaze and she backed away.

'But I want to.' She closed one of her eyes as she said did this.

That kind of look with one eye closed can provoke a lot of anger, Natasha realized. But she decided to play passive.

'Well then, see you.'

Natasha walked briskly ahead, but Sue rushed after her and stood in front of her before she could go up the stairs.

'There is no need for this mass display of anger,' she said quizzically. 'You're missing him, aren't you?'

There was no sincerity in her voice.

'Sue...'

'Because he did your housework and even washed your pants while you slept, didn't he?'

Oh God, she couldn't stand it anymore. She turned swiftly. The other women were still practising in the hall. None seemed to notice what was happening.

'Now Natasha, we shall put your charm to the test,' Sue persisted. 'Suppose then, Sipeyiye is taken away from you, will you be able to claim him back?'

Natasha removed Sue's arm from around her shoulders.

'Go ahead,' she shouted over her shoulder as she exited the hall. 'I wish you all the best.'

Sue stinks, she said to herself. She was now blinded with anger. It was a wonder she hadn't lashed at her. From where she was she could make out a number of men sitting in the shades of the mahogany trees, notably Sipeyiye.

Out of habit, she followed the pavement. She walked in fierce, angry strides. Her breath came out in rasps. How much exactly did Sue know by now, she wondered? She walked past the gleaming swimming pool. Now, she could hear what they were saying, Sipeyiye in leadership. That's what he wants, to claim attention, she said as she thought aloud.

All of a sudden, the men's attention shifted to her. Sipeyiye had said a joke that everyone else missed. He turned around and saw her. He immediately shut up. Where am I going, she suddenly asked herself? But she couldn't turn away now. She would make a fool of herself.

Then she suddenly remembered the keys!

She didn't slow down. The men whose outstretched legs blocked her way tucked their legs under their chairs as she picked her way to Sipeyiye. Sipeyiye was deeply alarmed but managed to stay calm.

'The key,' she snapped and stopped before him just in time to avoid knocking into him.

He rose and fumbled with a bunch of keys from his pocket. He disentangled a single key from the bunch and dropped it inside her open palm. She clasped it and retraced her tracks. As she left, she looked over her shoulder.

Sipeyiye slumped in the chair. His face was ashen and his hands were jammed on his face. She suddenly felt sorry for him and all the anger that she had allowed controlling her evaporated. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered. 'I shouldn't have done that'

But maybe, that would remain unsaid.

# Chapter 54

She slid behind the wheel and slammed the door behind her. The key in the ring, she threw it at the passenger's seat beside her. It could have been important had Sipeyiye said he would bring it later. Then she could have been assured that the whole thing was a nightmare. It was all over now. She had made a fool of herself. She could still be a bigger fool in the future.

'I shouldn't have done this,' she said again to herself. She leaned forward, wishing to cry. Tears would have relieved the knots of pain in her throat. But it was as if she had stopped living then, save for her breathing. She hunched on the wheel, wide eyed.

After fifteen minutes she heard the doors of the car beside her open.

Half of her concentrated on driving and the other figured out how she might bring an instant death upon herself. An overdose of drugs will do, she thought. But it was a Saturday and all the pharmacies were closed. She thumped her fist on the wheel, and the car veered out of the lane. She nearly crashed into another car, but she slammed the brakes on the floor quickly. The driver of the blue Nissan cursed through the window. Natasha ignored him and drove slowly to increase the gap between them.

As she drove past the supermarket, she mumbled to herself about the hell why don't they sell drugs? Just then she remembered she still had some prescribed to her by the doctor at her apartment. How much, she wasn't sure, but she had heard of their notorious effect. A little overdose was never too little to kill. Soon, she would leave this cold uncaring world.

She debated on the idea of having a little prayer before she died. But her mother had stressed it when she was still young. Suicide is a sin. If you choose to die by taking your own life God will punish you. That was a long time ago but her mother's words still rang in her ears.

Natasha had had more than half a dozen attempts to her life before she had known the age of eighteen. The reasons were not difficult to figure out. Natasha was lazy. She hated to run around the house, which was expected of a good girl. And when there was a row on why she hadn't done something, she would get short-circuited and flare up in a temper.

But each move had taught every person around her that all she wanted was peace of mind. At about the time that her schoolwork began to show promise her mother found her favourite child in her. She became the recipient of lots of freedom and lots of privileges.

She shook her head to expel the thoughts from her head just as the car came to a screeching halt in the parking lot. It was dusk then, but still awfully hot. The humid air due to the previous rains made her feel the more uncomfortable. As she walked along the pavement, she was glad to see that the children had taken shelter in their air-conditioned houses. It was going to be difficult to say goodbye.

Her heart was pounding the more as she lumbered up the stairs. This was her last moment here, and she was so certain of that. Why she had this premonition, she wasn't sure. She assumed that the word goodbye is always associated with living memories.

Who would see her first, she wondered? Perhaps, she would be here for a day, a week even, decomposing then, but who cared?

She closed the door behind her with a cold finality. She stared into the air thinking. It was necessary she should do this.

But what she saw when she opened the drawers wasn't what she had expected. The packet of the stronger pill was virtually empty; the other packet had only two left. That would hardly constitute an overdose.

She drove slowly along Robert Mugabe way. She rested her hands on her lap, and leaned back in her seat. She controlled the wheel with only her thumb. She was dog-tired, like she had gone twelve rounds around a soccer pitch. She couldn't be blamed for what had happened. Her mind quickly went over the events of the day, and once again she was convinced she should die.

She drove out of habit. She wasn't even half concentrating and she didn't care much about anything now. Though deeply engrossed with herself, she spotted the black jaguar making rapid progress towards her in the opposite lane. She adjusted the rear view mirror. She had to admit that the jaguar was a splendid show of horsepower. Bulawayo is a small city and there are hardly any places you can go to without coming across people you don't want to meet.

When she came to Fife Avenue, she turned left into the road to the mining and cattle-ranching town of Gwanda. She lowered the accelerator to keep pace with the long distance traffic.

She had already made up her mind. Somewhere, somewhere, this vehicle was going to be smashed into pieces.

With its owner!

It was unlikely that a car crash would be interpreted as having been deliberate. Her new plan was an improvement upon the drug overdose option. She didn't want to leave anything to confirm she had been defeated in life. Old habits die hard; she reflected upon her chosen fate as if it was just one of those things that she normally would analyse, weigh the facts and make a decision. Hell was beckoning!

The houses along the road began to disappear some twenty to thirty kilometres from the centre of town. The grass became thicker and there were more thorn trees and bushes. Natasha didn't want to destroy people's homes and make a frightening scene, so she was happy to see that there were fewer houses in evidence here. The time was fast approaching. No more troubles then.

She shifted in the seat and jerked herself upright. She lowered the accelerator once again and took the wheel in both hands. The jetta responded with a jerky leap forward, keen like a group of hounds on a sledge. She eyed the speedometer. The pointer swung fast towards the top limit and the car was almost literally flying now.

She shifted the gears again. This time the car began to whine, and the pointer stuck to the maximum speed limit, bounced off a number of times and glued itself there. She felt the car swerve, as gusts of air rushed through the open windows.

The jetta now tore the road at an aggressive speed, and the road seemed to zip apart to let it pass.

She looked at the outcrop of mountain ahead and saw the steep slope and sparse bush dotted below and around it. A new spirit rippled through her, an inexorable desire to gatecrash into the world to come. She was confident of a happier life after death. It wouldn't be long now. Soon she would know what lay in wait for her on the other side.

As the road came to a sharp turn near the foot of the mountain, she only checked the neighbourhood for approaching vehicles. She didn't see any. That meant she could go ahead. Everything happened too quickly for the mind to comprehend. Natasha felt the car fly over a gully and land with a shattering crash. She heard the rattling of glass and the clunking of metal. Then there was a rampage of wheels as they made rapid progress uphill. The car destroyed everything in its way: small rock outcrops and trees. It dug into the earth.

The car slowed down. Natasha leaned towards the passenger's seat and crawled beneath the dashboard when she realized what was about to happen. She was suddenly frightened. It wasn't that easy after all. How could she have known? She had never tried to die before! The car came to a grinding halt. Unable to triumph against the force of gravity the car began to slide backwards down the slope.

She closed her eyes. The front rode up and crashed upside down. The roof fell in. There was a further rattling of glass. Something struck her on the shoulder with an incredible force.

'I shouldn't have done this.' She whispered to herself, the third perhaps the fourth time on the day. But then there was no time to think. She collapsed into a deep sleep.

# Chapter 55

'Mother!'

Tuzuka hot. Mother on the veranda. She is wearing white. 'Natasha,' she calls.

'Natasha,' she says.

'Mother, remove the snake around your neck, damn it.' Natasha wants to run away. The smell of cowdung is strong in the air.

'Natasha, talk to me.' She is wearing white. It tortures her eyes.

'Mother, where do dead people go? Is this the place where the dead people come?'

The sky is white here. And so small. She will suffocate here. She wants to run away.

'Mother, remove this thing around my arms. I want to leave.' She screams.

Her mother holds her in her arms. She sings slowly, a lullaby that sends her into a deep sleep again.

There was so much going on

I know you couldn't

Think of me

There was so much to take

You couldn't

Spare Tuzuka for a moment

Your life was so crowded

You planned too much

And you couldn't free yourself

Rest in peace, my dear

We'll stay here forever

This is where we were meant to be

This is where all the pain led us

And we're never

Stronger unless we're in pain

We've learnt so much yesterday

And if it were not for the blood

We'd not be here

There was a smell of disinfectant in the air. She felt uncomfortable with the smell of the house.

'Mother, you know what they're saying? They think you're dead.'

Her mother smiled. 'She's awake,' she heard her brother speaking from behind. The smell of chemicals was too strong in the air. She shifted uncomfortably.

'Now, won't you hold my hand, Natasha?'

'So tell me, Natasha, where have you been? I've been worried about you.'

'I've went out to Bulawayo.'

'She's woken up, doctor.'

Her mother's dress was extremely white. It was pulled open in the front. Inside she wore a Khaki T shirt.

"Would you like to speak to me Ms Natasha?'

'Mother I'm speaking to you. And would you stop calling me that?'

She asked again, 'where have you gone to?' Her leg was hurting. Her arm too! The pain in her stomach was unbearable.

'Natasha I want to speak to you.'

She leaned her head to her. That smell of chemicals again! And what was that on her neck?

'Mother, won't you remove that thing around your neck? It makes you look so ugly.'

'Ms Natasha, can you hear me?' Her anger swelled. She wasn't even hearing a single thing of what she was saying.

'I've gone to Bulawayo,' she said.

This time her mother answered, 'How did you get there? You didn't have bus fare yesterday when I left you, did you?'

'I grew some wings and flew.'

'Really, can you fly for me?' it was then that she realized she was missing something. Her wings were broken. 'Ms Natasha. Ms Natasha can you hear me?'

Her wings. Her wings, where were they?

'You're sure you didn't take my wings, Mother?' There were many monstrous animals in the air. There was an elephant, which was already filling the whole sky.

'That's ok, I'll leave you to rest now, Ms Natasha.'

'Please, don't go Mother. I'm still looking for my wings. Please Mother, don't leave me again.' She yelled.

Then, she was feeling very hot. She couldn't even move. Not only was she missing her wings, she was also tied up. She looked at her brother, beside her. He was still wearing his white shirt. Natasha couldn't understand them. Why couldn't they just exchange their clothes with, Mother?

'Mother, you know before you died, everyone thought you had AIDS.'

'AIDS is nothing. It's just a physical weakness of the body. Why, I died before you came back from South Africa. I had no hope then. I had no love. I was just an empty vessel.'

'And Mother, how did you cope when you were HIV positive? I can never get to understand how you sang me 'The Virgin Girl' when things were so hard for you.'

'Usually, it's the body that surrenders first. After that, your mind has to move on to other more fruitful things.'

There was faint ebb of pain in her shoulder. The disinfectant clouded her nostrils. From a distance, she could hear people talking but not audibly enough for her to pick out their words. She felt rather sleepy. The temperatures had eased somewhat. She was almost pleased with this change.

Slowly... she opened her eyes.

There was a white ceiling above. She was in a small room with white walls. Her heart skipped a bit as she noticed some connections running from her body. She shifted her head. A nurse sat in the chair beside her. The nurse didn't say anything but immediately rose from the chair and picked up her notebook. She checked the time and wrote something in the book. She did the same with various metres that were around, writing rapidly.

Memories of what she had done came flooding back. She had wanted to kill herself and this is where she had ended up: the hospital! The place she so much hated. Who had brought her here, she wondered? What part of her body was still functioning and which parts were not? What place was this?

She summoned the courage to ask. 'What place is this?'

The nurse wrote something before she answered.

'The General.'

'Who brought me here?'

'The police.'

'For how long have I been here?'

'You only came yesterday.'

She squinted at the window, where a faint breeze flapped the curtains inside. Looked like it was around ten o'clock in the morning. She had been unconscious for the whole night. She had myriad questions. What was the state of her car? How much did the police know about her? How much did Sipeyiye and Sue know about this? God, she was in a terrible mess.

'What's the police saying about me?'

'I don't know anything about that, just that you had an accident. Why don't you rest, dear?'

The nurse handed her some tablets. She accepted them, amazed at how much her hand shook. She threw them in the mouth and tipped the water down her throat. She didn't have much time to think thereafter.

When she woke again, it was nearly dusk. The nurse still sat beside her. The connections around her had been removed which pleased her. She was slightly chilled now and felt more like a human being.

'Can I go out?'

'Only to the toilet.'

She wasn't writing in her notebook now, which Natasha thought was an improvement as well.

'That's where I want to go,' she lied. She just wanted to be out of this goddamned place.

The nurse arranged the crutches for her. Natasha peeled off the blankets and noticed with horror several bandages around her body. There was one on the pelvis. Another one was on the stomach. There was one on the shoulder. Shit! She looked so artificial and she was painfully thin.

She eased herself out of the bed. The pain surfaced and she winked as her feet touched the ground. The pain threatened to blind her as she straightened up. She staggered, but the nurse held her.

'Thank you,' she said to her. The nurse smiled.

The nurse directed her to the toilet. Natasha stayed there for some time just studying the landscape outside. She now had a rough idea of the place.

She walked out. The nurse still kept an eagle eye on her. She had been here since morning, and would leave soon, Natasha thought. She would miss her.

She made it back to the bed.

'You'll let me know you?' she asked the nurse.

'Why? That's not important, is it? After a week, there'll be a lot like me.'

She was talking about a week. Natasha doubted if she would spend another hour here.

'But I think you're so likeable. I wouldn't like to lose a friend just because there are so many people around.'

'Well, I'm Tafadzwa Manzira. I know you're Natasha.'

'Chuma,' she said with a chuckle, referring to her card.

'I had a cell phone when this accident happened. Did the police leave it here by any chance?'

'Yes, indeed.' She pulled open a drawer at the side of the bed.

'That's the only thing they left. Reasoned you might like to use it. Otherwise they took everything with them.'

'I want to make an important call.' She took it and toyed with it in her hands. She wondered if the word important meant anything to Tafadzwa or maybe patients and prisoners were just treated the same. She was relieved when Tafadzwa stepped out to give her room to talk privately.

She dialled off, mentally weighting the success of her plan. And that was it. She would be out soon. She wanted to be on her feet again. The vision was still blurred as to how she was going to make her way, but she was, definitely. She slapped the blankets as she said so.

The nurse returned. 'I bet that was a boyfriend you were talking to,' she said cheerfully.

'Good guess! But I told him I've only a minor injury. I can't afford to hurt him, you see.' She said it thoughtfully, dreamily and staring into the air.

'The police have been to your place, but they couldn't find anybody.'

Natasha's heart sank. How much were the police determined to unveil?

'I'll wait for him outside. Does that bother you?'

She didn't respond straightaway. 'But that has to be quick. The doctors will be in for their rounds in a moment. And we're also expecting the police.'

She was sorry to have told a lie, but she could not spend another night here. She wobbled on crutches out of the room. It was going to be strange to leave with their gear. She would phone and apologize later.

She limped down the stairs and waited in the park. As the taxi pulled up in the parking lot, she suddenly realized how hungry she was. It was a Mazda. She would have loved to stop in town and eat something, but it was going to be strange with what she wore. Taxi drivers don't love games, but she managed to stop the driver. She bought herself plenty of fruits. Part of her resurrecting programme was to have a lot of food and rest. In addition, she bought a newspaper, the Truth. She didn't even glance at the headlines, but she just clutched it under her armpits and hobbled back to the taxi.

And she refused to admit it had anything to do with Sipeyiye.

The keys were gone now and she reasoned this was the only way to keep in touch with him. Once again, she was terribly missing him. 'If only he could come back,' she whispered audibly enough to be heard by the taxi driver.

'I can't understand you, ma'am,' the driver.

'Oh sorry,' she said. 'Never mind me. Just drive me to my apartment.'

Relaxed in the back seat, Natasha viewed the whole scene as if she was a tourist. She even wondered what had entered her mind that she would want to commit suicide. The fine weather on the day seemed to be mocking her for wanting to take a cowards way out. After the rain sunshine always came.

The taxi whirled into First Avenue and stopped outside the court.

'That's how much?'

'Twenty dollars.'

'Would you mind following me to my court?'

The driver followed indeed and she squared him. Left alone, she wondered where she should start. Maybe first she would call for a house cleaning service. That would do for the floor and the laundry. She should also call for lunch. Then she would wait, bathing. Afterwards, she would go and see the police. She was still thinking of the boy she saw on the streets and wondering how much progress he had made in finding Manata, or if she had lost him because of her stupidity. She hadn't gone to the place yesterday. She would have to try in the evening. She felt good about it.

She bathed. First to arrive was the lunch. She piled things on the table: fruits, champagne, lunch and began to consume. She also had with her The Truth.

As she browsed through it though, she was suddenly attracted by the headlines: HER MAJESTY TO VISIT BULAWAYO. Still the same story, but in far much smaller letters was written, street children taken out of the streets. She quickly went down the passage.

Her majesty, Queen Elizabeth, is to visit Bulawayo on her tour of Southern Africa. She's expected to arrive next week, on the 19th of November. The Minister of Publicity, Tendai Kamuzi, said the queen would tour a number of charity organizations around Bulawayo.

Meanwhile, the Municipality of Bulawayo is also making plans to welcome her. The Truth learnt that the girls from Falcon will sing for her at the City Hall where she will make her address. Street children have been taken from the streets and accommodated at Sanity Home.

The number of street children has increased drastically in the past few years due to the plight of AIDS. Most of these children have lost one or both parents due to the pandemic. As a result, these children have few options and have had to drift into the streets for survival.

Stuck between the pages was the picture of the children, small, malnourished, sad...

# Chapter 56

She dropped the paper on the table. She went for the directory and flipped it over.

She managed to find the number of Sanity Home. She dialled. The phone rang three times before the woman at the end responded.

'Hello, this is Sanity Home.'

'Yes, I would like to know if there is a boy called Manata among the children you have taken from the streets?'

'Hold on.' There was a click as Natasha held on. She could hear the rustle of paper as the person at the other end went through their records. Hard organ music could also be heard, the type Natasha always associated with the Roman Catholic Church.

Her heart galloped in anticipation.

'Well, he's there.'

She couldn't conceal her happiness. 'He's there?'

'That's what I've said.'

'I'm coming up there at once. You'll care to give me your name so that I'll know the right person to talk to.'

'Sister Barbara.'

'Sister Barbara,' she tried the name for sound. 'Thank you very much. Expect me in a few minutes.'

She hung up. She gazed at the phone for a while. Now, this was what she would call a surprise. How could she tell someone what has been happening to her in only this short space of time? Definitely, nobody could believe her. Another move, she thought, and this time it was bye Sipeyiye.

The cleaning woman turned up then. She paid her off for the transport and apologized she couldn't be there. She wanted to be out, and she couldn't even wait for another minute more than was necessary.

Then she staggered to her feet to leave. She heard the screeching of tyres on the concrete outside. On shifting the curtains, she confirmed that the taxi had come.

# Chapter 57

Sanity Home lay in the outskirts of the city. It took Natasha twenty minutes, to get there. A dull signpost with paint peeling off greeted them as they entered the gate. It was no longer readable. Natasha guessed it must at one time have read 'Sanity Home'.

She could make out men doing the grounds in the background. In a corner of the premises, out in the open were small groups of children huddled together. On the football pitch some children were playing soccer. She found herself saying her blessings to people who devoted their time to serving humanity.

The secretary wasn't the first person she saw when she left the car. Indeed, there was a receptionist who seemed to have nothing else to do and who was especially glad to be given a piece of work. She left her seat and ushered Natasha to the secretary.

'What happened to your leg?' she asked

Natasha ignored her.

'Are you related?' the receptionist asked as she knocked on the door. She was referring to the sister.

'She's a friend,' she responded in time to hear another voice say, 'come in.'

She went in. Sitting behind the desk was a somewhat overweight secretary. Her cheeks were full and the skin on her face was smooth. But it was the bright and innocent eyes that could best describe the woman, the sort that had never been exposed to the big, bad world.

Sister Barbara heaved herself out of the chair for a handshake. Natasha leaned forward to shake the proffered soft, smooth hand.

'Have a seat.'

Natasha flashed a smile and took the wooden armchair as she settled into the sudden silence.

'What have you to tell us?'

'I talked to you over the phone a few minutes ago.'

'Sure, but we need to know what your story is.'

'My name is Natasha' she paused to think about her next words. 'I'm an Accountant with Old Mutual.'

The nun stirred and sat upright in her chair, an indication that she intended to give the matter serious attention.

'Sometime last month, I lost my boy. He ran away from school, to be exact. I haven't been able to get hold of him since then, in spite of my continuous searching for him all over the place. When I saw I saw this article in the Truth I decided to phone. It seemed to me more than likely that he would be here. You confirmed it so I guess I was right.'

The nun was tapping the floor with her leg as she listened. She looked like quite an intelligent person. The nun gave no immediate answer. She was probably trying to pick holes in Natasha's story.

She found it.

'How're you related?'

'He's someone I used to stay with,' she almost snapped.

Natasha said nothing now, but realized she might have to fire back. Although she was talking sense, they might not give her the boy if they suspected anything sinister. But until then, they would get no trouble from Natasha Chuma, she resolved.

'For how long have you been living with him?'

Natasha did a mental calculation and told an honest answer. 'About three months.'

'Well, you might have to talk to Father Kennedy, who's in charge of everything here.'

She rose, pushing the chair away behind her and came round the desk. She shuffled past her in a long gown and knocked at the door gently. Natasha didn't hear anybody responding, but the sister opened and entered.

Between the open gap, she was able to see another set of chairs similar to the ones in the room she was in. She concluded it was a twin room. A brief conversation went on behind her line of vision, but she couldn't pick out the words.

'You can come in,' announced Sister Barbara.

She did. The second office was brighter, because the curtains were rolled aside. The windows were closed in spite of the hot weather. The lights were on. But all made sense when she saw Father Kennedy. Few survive to his age. His lens was the thickest she had ever seen, and he was struggling to see her.

'Ho ho,' he chuckled like Father Christmas. 'I'm an old man. Don't bother me. A street child has stolen what this time?'

Natasha had all the reasons to believe he was fooling. Sister Barbara would have told him a version of the story by now. But he was a cheerful man. The atmosphere was light here.

'Not the usual stuff I bring with me, Father,' Natasha returned with equal humour, and managed to smile.

'Then she should be worse,' he said with a relatively lower voice, looking at Sister Barbara and wagging a finger at Natasha.

Sister Barbara stood on one side of the desk, humbly pressing the backside of one hand in the palm of the other. 'Father this is Miss Natasha....' The secretary started.

She said everything as Natasha had told her.

'It's nice of you to come, along,' Father Kennedy said. 'God bless you.'

He paused, and then closed the bible he had been reading. He added it to the pile that lay at the end of the table. When he was sure it was aligned with the other books beneath, he continued, 'I'm sorry though, the procedures are much longer than this.'

The hairs at the end of Natasha's head went upright

'But why?' she protested.

He waved his palms at her coolly. The hell of a cool cat, Natasha noted. She could see she had a fight on her hands.

'What you're talking about is adoption', he paused again, 'We may have to assess your financial position. You have to pass a medical test. We'll see if your home is suitable for child development. Also your religion and your family structure.'

'I understand you very much,' Natasha chirped in. 'But, I've lived with the child before. It might as well mean that every parent should pass the fitness test as you say.'

She was saying bullshit and she knew it.

'Wait.' Again he gestured to interrupt her.

'Look, if we find undesirable intentions in your motives, then we might not give the child to you.' Natasha wondered what this was supposed to mean, but he continued. 'In your case, staying with the child for two months and having him run away aren't the best of qualities we're looking for. You were either too hard or too soft on him. You do agree with me that child abuse isn't uncommon these days.'

He rose from the chair slowly and began to go over a pile of files that were on the shelves. He slipped out one. From inside, he produced some papers, which he shipped across the table. Natasha was feeling drained down to bone. It wasn't easy to go through the legal procedures, and there was no guarantee that she would win as he had said. With her car in shatters: the insurance claims, another legal procedure, it was more that she could possibly bear.

'Without further ado, you'll have to fill in these forms,' he said.

Natasha pulled the papers closer and started to go down them.

The name of the child, 'Manata'. The surname 'Manzira' as his aunt had told her. The other things required were her name, her occupation, her religion, brief history on herself and so on and so on. She completed the form and returned it.

Father Kennedy took it and started looking at it, but he quickly snapped at her, 'But this isn't the surname that we have here.'

The question somehow caught her unawares. For a brief moment, she even thought her boy wasn't even here.

'But that's the name I got from the aunt,' she said. 'I didn't mention, she worked in a bar in town, but she can't be found now.'

'You see, the first thing we do when a child is brought to us, we send a number of trained people to try and find the family of that child. We want to know if they can be reunited with their family. We also write a report on every child. This isn't the surname we have.'

'What is it that you have?'

'Mohyi.'

Sipeyiye's surname has rarely been mentioned in connection with Manata. She hadn't used it that often. A puzzle was beginning to unravel.

'Who gave you that name?' she asked

The Father consulted the file again. 'Our team travelled to Muzarabani where they found the child's relations. They were told the surname of the child is Mohyi.'

'What else is there?'

'Well, it says here that the boy's mother is dead. She died of AIDS on giving birth. It says here the father abandoned the mother and the child when he left for overseas, something like it. The man then is called Mohyi.'

Everything suddenly became very clear. The child was Sipeyiye's!

She remembered him telling the same story the day she told him she was pregnant. Sipeyiye admitted to abandoning the mother of his unborn child. The stories fitted like a jigsaw.

She felt like a megawatt of electricity had been turned on her.

'But you're not saying anything,' she heard the sister say as if from a distance.

'Sorry. This is getting a bit more complicated. I've just thought perhaps I could do the form later, if you'll allow me to come along with it tomorrow,'

'It's all still ok,' said the sister, strolling across the room.

'Father, would it be all right for me to take a copy of the boy's history with me?' she asked hurriedly.

Sister Barbara had already left the room.

'You can photocopy that, and leave me the original copy.'

'And the child?'

Natasha was dying to see Manata.

'I doubt if that can be today. Hope you find me in a better mood when next you come. And please, you should plan when we should look at your place. The other thing is the medical test.'

He handed her three sheets of paper. She paced down the corridor to the receptionist. Again, the receptionist jumped to photocopy. Natasha then made another trip to the Father. She dialled the taxi on the cell phone.

She strolled to the gate and waited. The taxi came in about half an hour.

She took a seat in the back.

'Khumalo,' she called to the driver, clutching the sheets of paper in her hands. And what was Sipeyiye gonna say now?

# Chapter 58

The phone buzzed in his pocket. It irritated him. He switched it off. It rang again. Perhaps he would save himself from a lot of trouble if he picked it up. He slipped it out.

'Hello,' he said.

Mrs. Rudzi, Natasha's secretary sounded very depressed.

'Natasha can't be found at the hospital.' Her voice echoed eerily in the line.

Sipeyiye sighed. What was wrong with this girl?

'You can't be serious.'

'I came to the hospital around six in the evening. She wasn't here. She's hindering the work of the police. They went to her place, but she wasn't there either.'

'God...'

'Where do you think she's gone?'

'I've got no idea.'

'But I thought you would come to see her.'

'That was the most decent thing to do. But you can never know with Natasha, maybe she didn't even want me there. You just have to know how she performed yesterday.'

'You never told me.'

'I don't want to have anything to do with her shenanigans.'

'That's rude of you.'

A pause...

'I'm afraid this girl is going from one problem to another every time. She needs help. I believe you can give her that, Sipeyiye. Leave the past behind you.'

'I've got to be careful. I don't even know how that accident happened. She rarely uses the Gwanda road. Meanwhile, the journalists got hold of it. I had to make threats to stop the story being published.'

'For now I'm worried about her whereabouts. The problem with Natasha is that she hardly makes friends. There are moments in life when we all need someone around. She's carrying too much on her head. Look now, we don't even know where to find her.'

'Well, we'll see.'

'Thank you very much.'

She hung up. He looked at his latest Apple phone. He had bought it for a hell lot of money. Looked like a toy now. Nothing was making sense to him anymore. He was bored to pain. He was bored with Sue. He was bored with his job. He was bored with Natasha. Nothing was leading him anywhere.

He flicked the television on. It blared back at him. A talk show on why the Zimbabwean team was failing at the Africa Cup of nations. Always failing at the last minute, the team was! That didn't make his present situation any better. He switched it off. He rose again and left the room.

'Would you like anything while I prepare supper?' John said from the door

'Nothing,' Sipeyiye snapped back at him. John retreated, having discovered that his hospitality was unwelcome. Sipeyiye swung back in the couch and gazed into the air.

Just then the intercom phone buzzed. He picked up. He didn't even allow his mind to wonder who it was.

'Hello, can I help you?'

'Yes, I would like to talk to you. It's Natasha.'

His heart missed a bit. Natasha! He managed to maintain his composure though.

'Ok,' he said brusquely.

He pressed the numbers on his electronic control. He could hear the familiar sound as the gate slid open, followed the growl of the hound on seeing her.

He didn't want to be caught off guard. He snatched a copy of the Herald from the table and pretended to be reading.

There was a knock on the door.

'Enter,' he called out. 'It's not locked.

She slid the door open and walked in. She was on crutches, taking one step at a time. Sipeyiye fought the urge to look her in the eye. She looked tall and painfully thin. He could also make out a bandage on the shoulder. Also she was lighter in complexion compared to the last time he had seen her.

He wondered how he should handle her, without a show of love or hate, with pleasure or indifference.

'Have a seat,' he said.

She took the nearest sofa without a word.

'You must be in hospital, Natasha' He remembered to remain neutral just too late. And it was apparent too that it wasn't going to work. Natasha had always had that effect on him.

'But I'm not. Who told you that?' She was arranging the skirt around her.

'Your secretary.'

'I thought she would have more sense than that,' she exclaimed.

This girl, thought Sipeyiye.

John walked in and said his greetings. 'Can we have some lemonade?' said Sipeyiye. And to Natasha, he said, 'you probably have opted for nothing.' He pursed his lips into a line.

He hadn't established the cause of her coming yet.

She didn't smile, but that didn't surprise him. And the atmosphere was tense again.

'Thank you,' she muttered.

'I saw the article in the Truth,' she continued. 'How considerate of you.'

He wasn't aware what she was talking of now. Surely the newspapers have many articles and dates.

'I mean the one on the queen and the urchins.'

'For God's sake,' Sipeyiye chirped. 'I hope it's not that boy we're talking about. Can't you ever get past him?'

He hustled to his feet and started to pace around the room.

John returned with the bottle of lemonade, two glasses in a tray and placed them on the table.

'Get over what?' she asked sharply.

'Losing the boy Natasha! There are things that are impossible in life. You need not assume they're not. As somebody I love, I feel I've to stress this strongly.' He made another blunder of slipping the word 'love' in his speech.

He noticed her mouth was agape. 'Who told you that?' she asked curtly.

He had answered this question already. 'Your Secretary.'

'God!'

She pressed her palms against her eyes.

'And there is no need to make a fuss over it. She did it all in good faith.'

'Well, won't you wait and listen? I went where the children where 'bundled to', to quote your paper. I found the boy.'

So what was her point of coming here, wondered Sipeyiye. What she did with the boy was none of his business, and he nearly spat that in her face.

'Now, there is a file on the history of every child. I'm glad to tell you that boy who smells of sweat, or whatever your reason for hating him, is yours.'

There was an abrupt silence when she finished. There hadn't been anything that Natasha had been doing of late that made sense at all. There were so many things to say to her but they became entangled inside him. He resumed his seat and asked calmly, 'What makes you believe he's mine?'

'You forget you told me this nasty story this other day.'

'But that doesn't automatically make him mine. He could be anybody's child.'

'Not when the facts fit like a jigsaw.'

'I can't understand this.' Again Sipeyiye thumped his fists on the lap.

Natasha fell back in the sofa and relaxed. 'If you can't, maybe this will help.' She tossed the leaves of paper across to him.

He snatched them up and started to read. He read slowly the surname, Mohyi. He raised an eyebrow. He read the history beneath. There was a woman who was abandoned by a man Mohyi. The woman bore a child Manata. The woman died of AIDS soon after giving birth.

This was difficult for Sipeyiye to comprehend all at once. There were reasons just theoretically, for him to believe the child was his. But in real life, nature does not hold so much coincidence. This thing was out of this world.

'Let me say my bit and leave,' said Natasha rising dismissively. He looked at her.

'Manata is at Sanity Home, I talked to those responsible. They say there are some legal procedures I've to follow if I'm to bring the child back. You probably know this better than I do. I can't pass the test, because I'm HIV positive. The future of the child becomes very unpredictable. But if you're the father, nothing can possibly stop you from claiming the child. Do your thinking and reach me when you can.'

She turned to leave.

But Sipeyiye jerked up and tucked at her arm.

'You haven't had your drink,' he said

Natasha squinted at him over her shoulder. 'I'm sorry, but I can't wait,' she said.

'What are you up to?' he enquired.

'I want to rest.'

He walked her to the door. He became keenly aware that she was leaving now and a strong desire to have her around overpowered him.

'You didn't come in your car,' he said.

A question or what?

'I can drive you back.'

She balanced on one crutch. He knew she was going to put him off, so he quickly added, 'Never mind, I'm not busy. Let's go.'

She looked around. She couldn't see the Pajero. There was only the Jaguar all right. She had a rough idea that the Pajero was beginning to give him problems, so he had settled for the Jaguar.

The hound growled at them, sniffing and punching with its paws. It remembered its old friend Natasha. Natasha patted him and slid into the car.

As they drove off, Natasha could feel Sipeyiye's gaze on her. She had the urge to look back, but even while looking forward, she could feel his gaze sweeping over her from toe to top on every opportunity he could find. She doubted it had anything to do with her beauty, knowing as she did that she was now painfully thin.

'You never said you were buying a new car,' she said to shake off the tension.

'And I never did.'

'Oh,' she gasped, turning at him.

'This is a rented car,'

She was a bit disappointed. 'Oh I see.' She nearly added, 'Was this meant for Sue then?' She was not going to allow Sue to come between them twice.

They had driven into the city now. The street lamps flew past them, giving alternated layers of dark and light fringes. On either side of the road, shops and banks clicked by: TM, Barclays, Lucky 7 and so on. And it was somehow amusing, the smell of rich upholstery in the nose.

At the gate the guard peered into the car, just as he was about to open the gate.

He saw Natasha.

'Sorry ma'am, but the police are looking for you,' he said.

'For me?' she exclaimed.

'Yes ma'am. And they want you to report to the police station as soon as you return.'

It wasn't she who gasped, but Sipeyiye. 'But do you think it has anything to do with the car?' he asked.

'I don't know.' The guard shrugged. 'That's the entire message I got from them.'

'Well, thank you,' murmured Natasha. To Sipeyiye she said, 'drive on.'

They drove around to the park. 'What shall we do?' asked Sipeyiye, pulling at the clutch. Natasha momentarily wondered you or we? But she let it pass.

'I'll rest.' She patted a yawn. 'I'm dog-tired. But I'll do the rest tomorrow. Thank you for driving me home.'

She was reluctant to let him leave and she became aware of it. She just wanted him to stay here with her for the rest of her life. She wanted to give in to her heart, to surrender her all and to forget the past wrongs and allow him to take control of her shattered world. She had loved once in her life, but true love never dies. She wanted him to the end of times.

'You're thinking,' Sipeyiye asked.

'I'm not,' she denied vehemently.

She turned around and found his gaze. She held his gaze for quite some time. There were so many unsaid things between them, but she could not be the one to initiate. But as the seconds ticked by, she realized she was making a fool of herself.

'Bye,' she eventually said.

She willed him to object. And she dearly wanted him to follow. But he didn't.

'Take care,' he said noncommittally.

She walked briskly towards her apartment, the tears welling up in her eyes. She wanted him to take care of her insurance claims. She wanted him to take care of her world so cold. And God, he hadn't even said anything about Manata.

She nearly cried out loud.

# Chapter 59

Sipeyiye made up his mind overnight.

At dawn, he phoned the police. A voice, sleepy and extremely bored, answered at the other end. 'Police. Can I help?'

'Sure, I wonder if I can talk to anybody taking care of the case on Natasha Chuma.'

'I'm afraid we can't say anything on the phone. Besides, you can't expect anybody to be working on the case at this time, would you?'

He was mildly irritated. 'That's not the point. I don't mean to make you angry or whatever. I can assure you I'm quite incapable. I just wanted to say Natasha would turn up most likely at dusk tomorrow. Meanwhile, she is going to Sanity Home. She has an appointment she can't miss, you see. Can you pass the message?'

'Are you sure it's the police here taking care of the matter?'

'As sure as hell.'

'But you better phone again and confirm.'

He hung up. He ran his hand over his head. He gazed at the phone again and dialled the hospital.

'Hello,' a woman voice responded, equally tired. Sipeyiye observed that today everyone seemed to be tired. 'It's urbanization!' he cursed. 'Man should go back to the jungle and re-strategize. This town thing was getting to them.'

'There is a girl who had an accident: Natasha, Natasha Chuma.' It was kind of difficult to put what he wanted in words. 'Do you have an idea the ward she is admitted into?'

'Let me try to put you through.'

He waited and heard the click of the phone at the other end.

'Hello, 'came another female voice.

He asked, 'Is Natasha Chuma there? She was taken yesterday after a car crash.'

There was no immediate response. Then there was a response. 'She did the most appalling thing as can be imagined. You know she escaped from the wards on crutches, in full hospital attire. I wonder what she was carrying in her car. Drugs?'

'Now, won't you wait and listen? She was kind of shaken with the whole thing. The insurance claims, the police. All this barely a fortnight after she had had a clinical abortion! She couldn't just stand it, see? She needs help. It's unfortunate I wasn't there for her.'

'Who are you?'

'The husband.'

He said it bravely. He had expected this anyway.

'I see,' the voice on the phone said.

'I don't know. She was bandaged. How did this affect the work of the doctors?'

'Hold on.' He heard another click of the phone. It was silent in the background. The woman returned to the phone.

'Well,' Sipeyiye could hear the shifting of papers. 'The doctors had taken an x -ray. She had no broken bones. The bandages were to be changed daily though'

'I'll bring her tomorrow then. I'm sorry she did this. Can I've your name then, so that we'll come direct to you? It's somehow very ...,' he broke off, 'very embarrassing.'

'Sorry, I dismiss at six. But all the same, I can tell your story to a nurse friend of mine. Thank you very much for phoning'

Sipeyiye raised an eyebrow. 'Did you say thank you?' he asked.

'You heard me right.'

'I thought I'm the one who was supposed to say that.'

'You don't understand. We women need people who take care of things. I mean the weighty stuff. It's bad you weren't there.'

Sipeyiye would have wanted her to say that again. He held back though when he realized that he could be taking it a little too far. He hung up.

He swung from the bed. In the bathroom, he washed his head and combed it. He smeared Vaseline over his face. He put on a Chinese style suit.

He felt good enough to travel. It was still dark outside. Dew dubbed the pavements. It was perhaps too early, but who cared. He drove off in the jaguar.

There was a knock at the door. Although she was wide awake, she thought she might have imagined the sound. But the knock came again, less gently this time and in rapid succession.

The police! Nerves screamed. Chasing her around like she was a criminal. They probably thought she was running away from something by now. She reached for her crutches and wobbled to the door. The pain was much sharper immediately after resting.

She turned the key and swung the door open in a show of rage.

It was not the police, but Sipeyiye!

She held her breath, which was sure to betray her. 'Come in,' she said, 'you nearly frightened me to death. I thought it was the police. You know how much damage they can do to a human being.'

'I'm sorry,' he returned.

'Well, come in,' she said as she waved him in.

He stepped in. He was dressed in his traditional Chinese suit. He stood over the couch, straightening it, obviously waiting to be invited to sit down.

'You can sit down.'

She was immediately embarrassed with the state of the house. She just hoped he understood that she had never had time to work on it.

She wondered what she should do with him. In the good old days, she would have told him to clear it up and talk like a gentleman.

'You were still asleep?' He asked without too much confidence.

'I was still asleep, yes. But don't bother about it.'

'I will, but I was just wondering.'

He trailed off.

'Can we possibly go to the Sanity Home this morning? That boy, God knows is mine.'

His words did not immediately register. He had caught her off guard. She had not thought he would come round so soon.

But she liked the way he was handling things. There wasn't that embarrassing ritual of apologies and other niceties.

'The Sanity won't be open until maybe eight.'

'Maybe you can sleep for the meantime. I'll be here.'

'This is a ghostly hour,' she said, amused. 'But don't you worry, I need to bath. And I'll do it very, very slowly to waste time.'

And then he laughed.

# Chapter 60

They drove through the gate at eight. Father Kennedy had just entered his office. Natasha had told a difficult story before, but this was even worse.

She would remain in control. Sipeyiye would speak only when he was spoken to. Sipeyiye nodded. And she wasn't to be fooled that he has changed. He was rude and he could become aggressive at the slightest provocation.

'Morning Father,' she said humbly as they both sat down.

Father Kennedy murmured a response. His attention was attracted by Sipeyiye who sat dozing next to Natasha. Sipeyiye said his greetings too.

'He is Sipeyiye.' She wondered if she should say 'Sipeyiye Mohyi', but decided that could cause unnecessary commotion rather too early in the encounter. First things first! It was probably better if she explained why he was here.

'What's he? A lawyer?'

'No Father. Editor of the Truth.'

'He's worse,' screamed the father, pointing a finger. He nearly jumped out of his seat.

She plunged into the heart of the matter.

'What happened is: I had a rough idea he had a child born in circumstances that match those described here.' She waved the papers in air. 'When you talked about the boy's surname being Mohyi, I was somehow put into a dilemma. That's why I couldn't complete the form yesterday. I've confirmed the details and they fit.'

'So this brother here is Mr Mohyi,' Natasha said triumphantly.

'What? Are you saying what I think you are saying?' said Father Kennedy as he sat back in his chair.

Natasha started explaining again. She said it all, except details that might be offending to Sipeyiye. She told him how she had met Manata. She told him how Sipeyiye had told her about the child. She spoke about the accident and about the newspaper article that had led to her coming here.

It was a long journey telling the story. And it wasn't pleasant either. It brought hurtful memories to the surface once again.

'Mmm,' gasped the old priest after she had finished. 'In fact, I've already decided to give you the boy. I was so deeply touched that I was going to hand him over to you straight away. But nothing had prepared me for this.' He clasped his hands together and leaned forward with his elbows against the edge of the desk.

'Mr Mohyi, why did you leave this woman?'

'I didn't exactly leave her. I was hoping to get back to her again. Only then I couldn't give her anything. I had to find some means to make a living. I had not been prepared for the pregnancy.'

Natasha gave a sigh of relief. It was looking promising.

'You can't say you had not prepared for the pregnancy. Are you blind? Couldn't you figure out what, what you were doing would lead to? You should pray over this. You should ask for God's forgiveness,' Father Kennedy said with some emotion.

'Yes, Father,' Sipeyiye said contritely.

'Now are you sure this child is yours?'

Natasha thought this question should have come before. Now it only amused her.

'We can go for tests,' suggested Sipeyiye. 'I don't think it's necessary, though. The facts fit like a jigsaw.'

'But I still wonder what sort of person you are.'

There was a moment of silence in the room. The old priest rose to his feet and went to his files again. He brought out one of them. As he had done the day before, he extracted some sheets of paper from it. Natasha looked at them. They said nothing about the history of the case. There was just the name and address!

'You see, one of our basic aims is to reunite these children with their families. I've to admit though, this has happened in the most unusual way. Look, God works through miracles.'

He waved his arms in the air with obvious excitement and there was vibrant glee in his eyes. Another case solved!

'You'll see the boy,' he said, much to Natasha's surprise. He fumbled at the phone at the end of the table.

'Yes Sister,' he said into the mouthpiece. 'Can we have the boy I talked to yesterday?'

He cradled back the phone.

Natasha's heart beat the faster. She squinted at Sipeyiye. Her guess was that his mind was, at this point in time, a little hyperactive to put it mildly. His gaze was fixed upon the floor. With his hands he clasped the arms of his chair as if his very life depended on it.

'I want your addresses.' The father brushed the top of his table meticulously with his bare hands. 'I'll come to your place sometime to see if the child is coping well. You wouldn't mind talking about it to an old man over a glass of wine, would you?' he said with a warm smile at Sipeyiye.

'That will be fine, Father,' Natasha replied readily.

'When?'

It was Sipeyiye who answered this time.

'Soon,' he said.

'And I will be only too eager to be there.'

Then the door opened. And Sister Barbara walked in with Manata.

# Chapter 61

Manata was as handsome as ever. He took a seat nervously and kept his eyes fixed upon the space straight ahead of him.

He was ever so quiet.

'I went to your school and they told me all sorts of stories on earth. Why did you leave school?'

'We were sweeping the class, Mom, but the boy next to me was leaving a big portion between us for me to sweep. I did the same because it was not fair. The teacher hit me on the head with a stick.' He pointed at himself.

'And then you decided to leave school?' she asked.

'I felt as if my head had been cracked open. When he tried to hit me again on the head,' he whispered, 'I knocked him down.'

'But, Manata my son, you should have come home. You gave me some awful hard times looking for you.'

There was no trace of sorrow in her voice. She was just so happy and relieved to see him again and to know that he was all right. She wanted to hold him in her arms and protect him and tell him it was all right.

'So what happened next?'

'I went into town. I was hoping to find my aunt. I couldn't find her at the bar. Neither could I find her at home. I've no idea where she went.'

Sipeyiye's gaze swept over her, then at Manata. He shifted it back to the road. She searched for the fear in Manata's eyes. It was gone, now that he knew that Sipeyiye wasn't a monster, that he was his father.

'So what did you do after that?' Natasha queried.

'I stayed on the streets. I've few friends whom I knew.'

'But I tried to look for you. I couldn't find you.'

'I was still afraid of being seen and I stayed hidden. I didn't want to be seen.'

'That was so unkind of you,' she said playfully. That was behind them now.

Natasha was thinking that the bad times were behind them now. She had found him. They had found him!

The drive from Sanity Home was beautiful. Approaching the city was like some kind of homecoming. Tall buildings glittered ahead in the morning sun. Alongside the road, short dry turf prevailed. When the rains came the turf became vividly green and alive. In the luxurious homes adjacent to the road the large patches of lawn and the flowers distinguished the upmarket homes. The density of cars on the road increased as they approached the city.

'We'll go to the hospital.' Sipeyiye announced, from nowhere.

She looked at the bandage on her shoulder and the other two beneath her clothing. When she left the hospital, she had hoped to see a private doctor. Here she was, and she hadn't done anything.

'Let's go to a private doctor,' she declared.

'No, it's ok. I talked to a certain nurse in the morning. She says it's only the bandages that should be changed.'

Sipeyiye's grin was wide and sincere.

'You said you talked to the nurse?' she asked.

'Yes, I explained your situation, that it was inevitable and that you'll turn up at noon.'

She had forgotten how thorough and efficient Sipeyiye could be.

'It was nice of you,' she told him and as she did so she looked him right in the eye.

The pain and disappointment she had felt the previous day when she thought he was abandoning her again had fast receded into the distance. He was here now and to stay too! They stopped at a red robot on Thirteenth Avenue. When the robot was green they passed on and Sipeyiye accelerated towards the hospital. Despite her new-found happiness and equilibrium there was a nagging worry at the back of her mind - about the police.

'I'm a bit worried about the police,' she confessed.

'What about them?' he asked.

'I thought maybe I should go and see them and try and make my story clear before going back to the hospital. I need a report for the insurance claims.'

'But I thought your health is our priority here.' He glanced at the bandage on her arm

'You know these bandages should have been changed yesterday. I dropped a message though that you will turn up at the police station at dusk. Let's hope then that we'll be through with this soon.'

They slowed as they approached the hospital. They swung into the hospital lane and drove slowly into the parking lot.

Natasha was admitted into hospital again. Her injuries were deep and needed proper attention.

Sipeyiye phoned the police to say that Natasha could no longer turn up. The superintendent on duty came to her hospital ward. His friendly manner eased her worries about the police. That the man was a little shy in his demeanour even endeared him somewhat to Natasha. She was going to be all right after all. It was good to know that. Later she got to know that he was anxious to keep a certain escapade of his away from the glare of the newspapers. Sipeyiye had something to do with the superintendent's deportment. She experienced firsthand how power can be wielded by those who have it. Sipeyiye, editor of The Truth, became a good acquaintance of his.

Sipeyiye and Manata stayed with her the whole day. They waited outside while her injuries were dressed. They saw her to her room and left at dusk. Natasha thought that was a blessing in disguise. Manata and Sipeyiye needed time alone.

Loneliness and boredom in the wards: a thing of the past. Natasha safely buried herself in newspapers and magazines, and drifted easily to sleep.

Manata came in new attire the following day. Properly fitted-out, he looked quite dazzling, almost beautiful! He had worked flat out through the night to come up with a colourful card. The message:

We've put roses beside your bed

But of course, they'll wither if you

Stay longer

There is a cup of coffee beside your bed

But of course you didn't take it

I left a chocolate beside your bed

And it's waiting for you

Because you weren't there

Yesterday

The birds are all singing in the garden

But of course you're not here

To hear them call your name

Yesterday was so long

Because we waited for you

For an eternal night

In which your face was so distant

Of course, we know you're pretending

Of course nothing will keep you there forever

When you think of your chocolate

And your dear son Manata

You'll leave that bed so fast

And come running home fast

This wasn't a hand over gift from a shopping spree. It was the result of his talent and labour, and a message that came from the heart. The editor of the Truth called it a splendid show of talent, and bet that one day it would be the lyrics to a mammoth hit song. It was the greatest of the gifts Natasha had received in years.

In the days that followed, Manata would come once a day, in the morning. Sipeyiye would come twice, including the evening visit. They would talk. And she would giggle as he told her story after story. The good times had begun to roll again. And when he came to the finer bits, she would be downright laughing. Afterwards, she would complain that her stomach ached and that Sipeyiye was the cause of it all.

'Don't laugh, just listen,' he would say.

He stayed past midnight some days. Sometimes he was there till dawn. On some days he shared her hospital bed with her. No nurse came to Natasha's room and even if one had done so he would somehow probably have wiggled out of the situation. Everybody loves a good romance story. That was what he said.

On one such break of day the two lovebirds lay whispering softly.

'I must not crowd you,' he said.

It was greying outside and they both hadn't slept a wink all night, wanting to feel every living moment together and wanting to catch up.

'You haven't dropped Sue.'

It was the slip of a tongue itching to dispense with something. Lingering feelings of the uncomfortable kind always had that kind of effect. She would have loved not put a fly in the ointment, but there it was. She had said it! The Sue thing needed to be dealt with.

His eyes rolled around. He was startled by the question. 'She's bothering you, isn't she?'

Natasha couldn't immediately work out what his reaction meant

'Sorry, I shouldn't have said that,' she said apologetically, although she was dying to know. 'I' didn't mean to upset you.'

'Don't be nervous about it,' Sipeyiye said.

But the atmosphere was tense already.

'I was wondering about how to talk about this without losing your...,'

His quavering voice trailed off.

'... without losing your affection,' he managed to say.

She nodded and bit her lower lip.

'It was unkind of me that when you needed me the most I couldn't stand with you. But Sue is gone now.'

She looked out through the window, avoiding his gaze. 'I don't mean to compete with anybody. You didn't break up because of me, did you?'

'No. That happened before I got in touch with you.'

She was suddenly curious. 'Why?' she asked

'She wanted an HIV test report.'

He shrugged.

She was still wondering how Sipeyiye took the message on being HIV positive.

So much had happened. His first instinct was to disbelieve. He had put the blame on her. He had separated himself from her.

Then came the news of this woman, Manata's mother, who died of AIDS. Sipeyiye had lived with the virus for thirteen years!

There was no one to blame. That might have been possible, perhaps if he had been careless.

'I'm sorry about that,' she whispered after a while.

'You'll forget it?'

Gently, Sipeyiye positioned himself atop her and Natasha could feel the warmth of his breath in her face. She tensed.

'Yes' she whispered again.

'Promise?'

She made a face. 'I promise.'

'Because you see,' and their gazes fused together. 'I want to marry you.'

'Yep, I want chocolates, coffee...but you guys don't believe me when I say I'm in pain. You think I'm faking it. Can you just do me two favours? One, I'll come to Khumalo when I'm fit enough. Two: come off my top.'

Sipeyiye laughed. 'You naught boy,' Natasha laughed along with him.

He left at the earliest signs of sunrise. It was time for Natasha to sleep, but she couldn't. He was still on her mind. Just as there was still a lingering smell of him on her body. Today had been the turning point in her life. Today she had given him the gift of love. She day-dreamt again, reading the message from Manata again.

There was so much that happened while Natasha was in the hospital. Sipeyiye would talk on how beautiful Manata sang. He explained just how well the boy did 'Please, Take it Away Lord'. After a week he announced that he had bought him a grand piano and he was doing just fine on it.

Sipeyiye wanted the boy to have some academic education. He was determined to do something about that, especially after the failed first attempt. It wasn't long before he announced as well that Manata was having two tutors, one in English and another in Mathematics.

'Let's concentrate on his strength. That boy will do well in music.'

It was Sipeyiye making the decisions now, reflected Natasha. She didn't have much say.

One afternoon, he came with a request to move her furniture out from her flat.

'Could we make it to Khumalo when you're out?' There was still a little nervousness in his voice.

But there wasn't a thing to fear. All she wanted to do now was to be with him and Manata.

'Go ahead.'

The next day, she was discharged, minus the crutches.

# Chapter 62

A bird whipped the air defining a parabola in its path. It flew around the double- storey building and landed on the branch at a tree so near to Natasha. It was a dove, much to Natasha's delight. The thin twig sagged as the dove stood there flapping its wings up and down. The bird could feel her presence, but couldn't immediately make her out.

She held her breath, not wanting to frighten it away. Perched on the rails of the porch, she could visibly make out its tiny chest heaving up and down. It cooed, rapidly turning about, torn between staying and fleeing.

The door cracked open. Now, that it was certain there was a human being around, it spread its wings and flew away. Sipeyiye came behind her. They both watched it as it gained altitude. It was soon an almost invisible little dot and finally became invisible as it rose higher and higher.

'How did it come so near?' he asked

'I don't know.'

She shrugged.

His face was still puffy from sleep. His breath was stale. Dressed in his martial arts suit, his front buttons unbuttoned; there was a fine dust of hair on his bare chest. She shrugged again.

Dusk had come and the sun was an orange ball on the horizon. A few crisp clouds were dotted around the sun as well as around the whole greying sky. Natasha shook slightly as a gust of wind swept past them, but they stood there in silence enjoying everything around them.

'Good morning,' she said to him after a while. He squinted at the sun and stifled a yawn.

It was fast becoming a habit of theirs to sleep again immediately after breakfast at weekends. On this Sunday, the three of them, Manata included, drifted back to bed immediately after breakfast. They had their lunch. Occasionally, one of them would pop into the kitchen for a drink. Natasha was the first to wake up, but Manata was still in bed even then.

The peals of the piano announced that Manata was awake. Slow, uneven beats. The rhythm building up... And then a sudden halt, at the time you wished it continue.

'He's awake,' Sipeyiye muttered.

'Yes, he is.' She wrapped her hands around him and hobbled down. He staggered forward a little, absent-mindedly.

'You want me to fall?' she cried into his face.

'Sorry.'

They drifted into the house, Natasha ahead and Sipeyiye trailing behind.

Manata was still fidgeting with the piano. The volume was high. The tempo too! The sound wafted into the clear air, again and again, loud and proud.

Sipeyiye swung the fridge open as they passed the kitchen. He settled for an apple, which he gratefully crunched.

Manata was hunched at his favourite property, fingers tapping the keyboard expertly. He was still concentrating furiously so that he couldn't immediately see them as they entered.

'Good morning,' hailed Sipeyiye, sprawling himself on the couch.

'Oh, you're here.' Manata looked at them over his shoulder.

'Let's not disturb you. Go ahead.'

'You care to join me?'

'Me? I won't do that.' swore Natasha. 'Of all the things, that's what I'm worst at.

'No, I won't. I won't.'

'I'm trying to add new voices. Not that you'll do it again, but I want to have a feel of it.'

'If you insist, I'll leave,' Natasha said and headed for the door.

Sipeyiye pretended to have not heard.

But Manata lunged out of his chair in pursuit. He tugged at her hand, dragging her back. 'Just try it, you'll love it,' he pleaded.

'All right, if you insist. But don't say I didn't warn you. I'm awful bad; I mean bad as in bad.'

'We'll get started straightaway.' He sat down in his chair. He began to sing the melody and encouraged Natasha to join in.

Please, take it away

Take it away completely

Give me love to show everybody,

That'll never feel it again.

He did it, gesturing with his hand encouragingly.

Natasha picked it on the way, cursed at the sound of her voice. She nearly gave up, but Manata was watching her lips. She managed to thrive to the end of the hymn.

'That's good,' he said. 'But I think we also need a male voice here. The hoarse stuff, isn't it?'

Sipeyiye peeked at them out of the corner of his eye. He had thought he had escaped. Natasha giggled.

'Well,' he said, 'I'll do it.' He threw the newspaper away and stretched out. Sipeyiye and Natasha stood one each on either side of Manata, getting the words and the tune again.

They started afresh. Natasha couldn't help noticing that Sipeyiye was better than her.

'We'll do it with the instrument now.'

Manata searched their faces. His face glowered with success.

The piano again. Manata hunched forward, punching the keys expertly. A rapid succession of beats that failed to make music. Another attempt: going slowly at first but stepping up the tempo as he got the rhythm right. He nodded his approval and swung a hand in rhythm to the beat of the hymn.

Then he picked on the song, the 'please' drawn out and vibrating for them to join, which they did. Natasha was momentarily bewildered at how great their combined effect could be. Manata led with his thin but sweet and innocent voice. When the two adults joined in the harmony was something admirable given that it was practically spontaneous with hardly any rehearsal to speak of. It was in the end quite a rich rendition.

They finished it the first time, and Manata searched their faces for comments. 'How did it go?' he asked

'We'll do it again.' Sipeyiye volunteered

So once again, they did it with the piano showing the way. It sounded like it had been spiced up now. The melody was hauntingly familiar now and it was just like having heard the song some other place and suddenly hearing it again. And to Natasha, that's exactly what the experience was doing. They had all come along difficult paths. It had been necessary for each to lead a separate life. Yet all they had wanted was each other and being a family.

They were lost in glory of the song and in their togetherness. Each time they sang the verses the soothing melody brought new meaning to them. Natasha wondered what Sipeyiye and Manata were thinking. They sang the song again. The sense of accomplishment was unmistakable and real.

Carried along by the uplifting rhythm they nodded, smiled and sang along, happy and contented in each other's company. They held each other's gazes. They swayed. And their wild, wild imagination wandered to worlds unknown.

# About the Author

Brian Ndingindwayo was born in Chipinge, Zimbabwe. He did his studies in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe where he spent most of his time reading books. He writes books and computer programmes and visits charity organizations around the country whenever he can. Life After Death is his first book.

