With dot.com
The best laid plans can easily go wrong. That new lodger next door, she had told me her name was Jessica. There was no doubt that she had stolen my heart. I am not sure if that was practical, but the stealing was as close as it gets.
Kutorwamoyo as they say in Shona parlance. I must not digress from my story. She had everything a man would want. I must add there was nothing much anyone would want in Dzivaresekwa, commonly known as DZ or Danger Zone. I do not want to dwell much on the naming of it, but no doubt the name itself reeks of grinding poverty. In simple translation, “A River To Laugh At”.
Mind you, the colonial names were much better without ominous meanings. It was formerly known as Gillingham. Then there is Mufakose, a much bleaker name, simple English translation,“Dying In The True Sense”.
In my view I would not give medals to those who named residential areas with such damning meanings. No wonder, the cloak of poverty was all over the place. It was doom! No future, no hope except a promise of suffering. Let me get back to my story, but not before I mention colonial names like Mabelreign, Greencroft and Avonlea, among others. Nice sounding names with not a promise of doom.
Jessica was endowed with natural resources from top to bottom, so to say. It had taken me two weeks for my bait to catch. The great day being Saturday, my rented two rooms were quirky clean waiting for my visitor, Jessica. Never mind that the curtains for both bedroom and kitchen, which also served as a dining room needed some washing. The only furniture in the kitchen was an old kitchen table I bought from an auction with its set of four chairs.
An imperial fridge occupied the corner. It was not working I had also bought it from Mabelreign Auction. Two fridge experts I had brought to fix it had all, but been fixed instead of fixing it. Most of the space in the bedroom was occupied by an old bed. I had inherited it from my late brother. It looked worse for wear and surged in the middle. I had not yet acquired a wardrobe, but instead I had a large box written Capri. I had picked it up in our street. Someone had bought a Capri deep freezer and discarded it. I found a useful job for it. It became my new wardrobe. More often than not, dirty clothes and washed clothes were all in the box or strewn all over.
Life is hard my brother, being a security guard with Amandwande Security and hustling on my off days. Now going back to my story! Jessica was coming. I had spend my last dollar buying a soft drink, one litre of Coca Cola and two pieces of chicken with chips bought from Chicken Inn in the morning for my guest. These would be the final bait I hope. My heart was pounding. Her last chat on WhatsApp said she will be coming in 30 minutes time.
- Chamisa under fire over US$120K donation
- Mavhunga puts DeMbare into Chibuku quarterfinals
- Pension funds bet on Cabora Bassa oilfields
- Councils defy govt fire tender directive
Keep Reading
I was ready and had done everything to make the occasion sweet and memorable. I kept looking at my phone, checking the time since I did not have a wrist watch nor a wall clock. Twenty five minutes left, 19 minutes, 15 minutes and just at that moment my door banged open and in entered Mai Maidei, my wife and the whole brood that made my family, two daughters, Maidei and Marita followed by Marwadzo Junior, my only son! My heart almost leaped out of my mouth. “Baba!” That was Maidei my daughter as she hugged me and went straight for the chicken and chips. I greeted my wife. “Ah I did not know you were coming!”
The children all crowded round the chicken and chips. Mai Maidei, her hands on her hips looked at me askance. “So you are busy eating goodies here, isune vana tichifa nenzara kumusha!”
I was still in shock and had to handle this properly. There was no time and any moment Jessica would come.
“Hello! Hello! Hello!” I pretended there was a call. I quickly went outside and dialed Jessica. She answered.
“Hello darling, I am now coming!”
“Don’t come please, that’s why I phoned. My wife is here!”
There was a hiss at the other end of the line then the shit word and she cut me off. I was sweating, wiped the sweat from my brow with the end of my T- shirt and then went back into the house. The chicken was gone, the chips were gone. They were doing justice to the Coca Cola and Marwadzo Junior came and sat on my knees.
Mai Maidei was sweeping the room with her eyes, taking everything in and preparing her attack. I had chewed more than I could swallow. She stayed kumusha, farming and tending to our goats. I had postponed sending fertilisers, now she had come. This was not going to end well.
All of a sudden, there was a knock at the door. Jessica came straight for me and gave me a thunder clap that felt like a thousand sting bees. “You lied to me, you said you had no wife, that she died kumusha of Covid-19!”
I knew trouble and this was trouble in all its forms. Before I could do anything, Mai Maidei was on Jessica. She clawed at her face like a cat.
“So you’re the reason I am starving with my kids kumusha. ‘Eating’ my husband’s money!”
Jessica beat a haste retreat through the door, sensing real danger. I also bolted out of the house because I knew I was next.
Already a small crowd had gathered outside. This was real drama, not the Mai TT drama. “Mudhara! Mudhara! Mudhara!” I heard Rasta who lived at House number 1440. “Uri chibaba!”
My troubles were just beginning. I had to wait for Mai Maidei to cool off before I could get back home. I headed down the street.
Three houses away from my rented two-roomed house lived Baba VaTata, who lacked discipline in every way, but was nevertheless my friend.
Birds of the same feather flock together. This had a ring of truth. The sailors say something like in the same boat. If my friend Baba VaTata was ill-disciplined, then I was in the same boat and the drama I had just caused was proof enough!
