Over the past few days, I have been telling myself that the only person who can change my life for the better, is none other than myself. No one is coming to save me.
Even if I go hungry and beg from friends and relatives, they will just shake their heads laugh at me, and make the usual negative noise behind my back. Some will pretend to sympathise and move on with their lives. The moment I drop dead, everyone will rush with contributions for my funeral. Asi chii nhai? What is that?
Only your father and mother genuinely desire your success in life, the rest are only pretenders and backstabbers. And if your parents are still alive, love, cherish and celebrate them.
I had been standing outside the big double storey white house for more than an hour now. It was one of several houses in the street with well-manicured lawn.
If you were a flower enthusiast, you would not fail to appreciate the flowers. The dwarf red hibiscus, a striking flower resembling a miniature poppy, belonging to the mallow family common in Zimbabwe, was interspersed with the Flame Lily, Zimbabwe’s national flower, known for its striking red to orange colours. They were all in full bloom and looked outlandish.
There were also some red and white roses placed in huge cylindrical vases on both sides of the gate. Neat rows of palm trees lined the street on both sides.
Whoever was doing the landscape, had a front view vision of the Garden of Eden or what it must look like. He knew what he was doing.
I could have enjoyed this scenery in happier times, but these were desperate times. This was the fourth day in a straight row I was coming to the house and wait outside. It was no ordinary neighbourhood.
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Top of the range latest car models driving on the roads were a poignant reminder that this was a wealthy neighbourhood. The house belonged to my rich uncle, William, my late father’s young brother.
His business portfolio included vast interests in real estate, mining and freight. I had also heard that he was eyeing a stake in the lucrative fuel sector.
I had not talked with him for several years. The last time I had a chat with was at the funeral of Aunt Ruth.
I still remember his exact words when he said he would never give money or jobs to any of his relatives because we would bankrupt him. His parting words were, “You are my brother’s son, but do something with your life, don’t expect anything from me. I am a self-made man, I worked my way up to the top, all by myself, be a man.”
His words had stung me. For years I avoided him even at family gatherings. His star continued to shine while almost everyone in the family was suffering. I never had a stable job. I tried my hand at many things, but nothing seemed to work.
My sojourn to South Africa for greener pastures was bleak and full of disappointments. Like many other migrants to South Africa, the dream for a better life was an illusion. All I managed to come back with to the motherland was my own wretched life.
The final straw that triggered my return back to Zimbabwe was when I took a gardening job with a poor Afrikaner man who pretended to be rich when in actual fact he was a poor Boer. His broken English was meaningless half the time. His dog, of which I never really got round to know its breed literally lived in the living room. It glared and growled at me most of the time. The foul smell, which always pervaded the air in the house only served as a reminder of its presence all the time.
He would even force me to watch news with him in Afrikaner knowing very well that I could not understand anything. His ego to satisfy his self-esteem drove him to do that. Only that when I could not take it anymore, I came back home.
Now, I was down on my luck. I swallowed my pride and was seeking for an audience with Uncle William. I had no other access to him except to wait by the gate. The ice cold wind that was blowing from both directions did nothing to deter me.
The last three days, each time he drove into the driveway, the electronic gate slid open smoothly and his Mercedes Benz shot through and immediately the massive aluminium gate swung shut efficiently in silent conspiracy before I could do anything. What next if this happened again today?
Next time, I will continue with the story.
*Onie Ndoro
X@Onie90396982
