LAKE OF MY HEART – CHAPTER 7

LAKE OF MY HEART – CHAPTER 7

They had met several times. From the onset when she paid his fare, he had remembered her whenever they bumped into each other. In the early days they just bumped into each other before they set what could be a pattern for meeting. He would feel he needed go down into the depths of Glen Norah A for no reason only to face her in another street. Coincidence?

They had things in common. He was actively studying either on block release for three months going to the technical college every working day or going there in the evening when he was not on block release. Saturdays found him with extra lessons to attend to depending on the nature of the subjects and their tutors. He could go as far as Alpes Road near its X junction with Harare Drive to attend lectures on weekends except Sunday. The fact that he was doing well in a subject did not give him a guarantee that he would pass. Even if he knew that he could pass, he didn’t want a mere scrapping through pass if he could be afforded a distinction.

They both carried bags full of text and hard cover exercise books, they both burnt the mid-night oil except that he was employed. He had helped her photocopy past examination questions that he had helped source for her and books that were hard to come by. Most afternoons they went to the Harare City Library in Rotten Row to study until late. One afternoon he had met her in the city when he had dropped off a Peugeot 504 station wagon plying the Lomagundi Road via Avenues route. He had been partaking weekend lessons with a set of students with a lecturer who lived in the Greengroove area. Instead of giving them a verbal lecture, the lady had surprised them. They had entered the room they used only to find there were white papers.

“No reading, just sit down and wait,” she had instructed.

Then she had given them an hour after which she started working on their mistakes writing on the board. It wasn’t bad. He had achieved a 58% in the surprise test. He left feeling his performance had increased by 25 %. Only if examinations could have been written the next week!

“Hi Naomi.”

“Hello Trevor,” she had said.

Two of her male escorts stood sheepishly a little further on. She slapped her hands with his as was customary greeting for people who knew each other well. She weighed about seventy kilograms. For a school girl still growing, she showed future volume. Her bosom filled out so did her backsides. She had this sweet smile which affected the position and size of her nose. It was infectious. It made his blood heat up inside. He did not the biological dynamics but something was happening.

“Where to?”

“I was just going to pay an Edgar’s account for my family,” she replied.

He U-turned and together they walked towards Edgars at the corner of Angwa Street.

“What’s been happening to you?” he asked.

The escorts had managed to get scarce. They should have been a pack of boys trying their luck. Today was not one of those days where they got lucky. Being lucky wasn’t really bagging the prize. They could be given a wrong name and a telephone which would be answered at a local school.

“Examination stress and fever,” she had replied. “I am through with all four subjects now.”

“How was Mathematics?” He asked.

“My performance in that subject has been deteriorating ever since I did second form,” she had replied.

“Then how did you do it at lower sixth?” he asked.

“You know after passing ordinary level if you are advanced level material, they just select a combination for you and here I am with that.” She replied.

“What symbol did you have at ordinary level?” he asked.

“B,” she replied.

They went up the steps towards the cashiers who were dotted in different directions of the top level of Edgars Stores. The apparel on display for cash or on account was eyes spotting. It was quality and excellence at its best in terms of dressing. All makes and sizes were represented. All that ran short were the finances. A salary did not keep stretching. Buying power was always dwindling never the reverse.

“Then leakage of examinations can lead to examination fever. Imagine thinking you are through with a paper. Then you are told to rewrite the same paper again because it leaked. It never happens with Cambridge or the University London General Certificates of Education. I had to rewrite one paper because of those leakages which is what happened two years ago at ordinary level too.”

“I wrote Cambridge at both ordinary and advanced levels,” he had replied. “I never worried about examination leakages. But I admit, Cambridge is a little belt tightening for the parents, the pounds sterling they require are hard to convert from local currency.”

“I wrote both Cambridge and ZIMSEC. I tell you it’s a source of examination fever and stress. I remember saying in advanced level you took much time looking into a calabash of beer,” she replied.

“Did I ever say that?” he was astonished.

“Yeah you did,” she replied with a smile.

“Oh all those secrets,” he wailed. “Was I sober when I said that?”

“Yap.”

He took her for lunch. Over lunch he asked if she could like to attend a film show. Lunch was hot steaming steak pies and Coca-Cola mineral drinks.

“I agree that there was more beer in me when I wrote the final advanced level subject papers.”

“I am pressed for time,” she replied. “Are you still in Glen Norah A?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“And your examinations in June?” she asked.

“I passed,” he had replied. Her eyes grew larger with excitement. “All of the papers except Statistics which I have to rewrite. This season I am writing Statistics, Building Technology, Financial Accounting 1 and Building Studies. I started end of October.”

“But you didn’t tell me”, she stated.

“You didn’t ask if I had passed,” he had replied.

“I felt sorry for you after you had told me that fateful day you had to walk up and down Eastlea to Harare Polytechnic to sit an examination. I could have afforded the fare.”

“You as a student sponsoring me?” Trevor asked. “If it had been you failing to find the fare every man in the taxi would have willing paid for you.”

“I am not a flirt”, she smiled.

“Not that”, he replied. “The elder statesmen to me would have paid for you to prevent bachelors like me exchanging that for later favours. The younger, like me would have wanted to pay to get hooked to a good looking girl. The motherly would have followed the fatherly statesmen while your age would have not bothered an eyelid thinking you were hooking someone.”

“Well I am charitable”, she impressed.

“I walked from Market Square to Harare Polytechnic on foot. I got there a little late. Then I had to walk back right past to Eastlea in a burning sun without even a cent!”

“I felt for you.”

He gave her his calling card.

“Impressive”, she commented.

“You can call me at work or near Chitubu Bar, almost close to Glen Norah police station” he suggested.

“I don’t visit guys in their residential quarters for obvious reasons,” she replied. “The last time I tried that I nearly ended up with a baby. The nursing sister said I could have had 2, 956kg one.”

“Naomi please!”

“Why do you live so close to a beer hall?”

“It makes it convenient if I need a pint or two.”

“With that reputation of ladies of the night, you will die young,” she warned. “Is beer all that you ever think of?”

“I don’t seek them. They are so much older and uglier than me, “ he suggested. “ By a fluke of nature I just ended up living near Chitubu not that I sought a single room there.”

“Hunky punkie does not respect age,” she replied. “You just wake up sober to find you dated your grandmother.”

“For a young girl you know so much about this,” he replied.

“Experience from seeing the young hooking the old after a beer drink. Haven’t you heard of issues of the age of my ‘boyfriend’ taking to bed a lady my mother’s age after a beer drink?” she asked.

“I will invoke my constitutional right to remain silent.”

“I didn’t know that you had any rights,” she replied.

“I am studying. I have a tight schedule right up to weekend at most times. At times on Saturday I do extra lessons in subjects that I feel are lagging behind,” he replied. “The problem with professional courses is one subject can have a tutor in Ruwa while the other has a tutor staying in Seke rural. I have to mix and match on extra lessons towards examinations.”

“Are you married?” she asked which is the first thing she should have done because men had a habit of lying. School age elder girls had a habit of being trashed by angry and jealous wives whether they knew of the affairs or not. “I don’t want an angry Sue coming to see our senior lady at school as has happened before.”

“I am not married at least. I am still too young to marry. Most of my age staying in the rural areas are fathers by now. Not if you are chasing after four subjects per sitting and you are passing two at a time. You have either to chase higher education or get married. I am not searching for a girl, yet!”

“I am not searching either,” she replied. “I liked your style. You never told me a thousand reasons why you ‘loved’ me on first sight. You just slipped into friendship. I respect that style. The problem with a person is you can miss their real age by just looking at them. You can befriend a father of two thinking he is a bachelor and vice versa.”

“Friends? Are you married?” he asked.

That had her pelting with laughter. How could she have been in a rickety emergency taxi going to a formal school if she was married? Such things even without a pregnancy, had a habit of reaching the school authorities. It wasn’t in the proper law books but expulsion would be incontestable in the courts. He had never heard of any court record where a married person had challenged expulsion from a formal school.

”You would come with a friend, maybe?”

“Maybe,” she replied. “But I don’t want two babies either.”

“That’s a good one,” he suggested. He looked long and hard at her. He put his arm around her shoulder, she wasn’t complaining much. Ten metres down the road she slipped his arm off. “How could I make both of you pregnant at the same time?”

“One after the other”, she replied. “Thanks for the treat.”

“Let’s hear more about you,” he said.

“I am me,” she said. “And you are you so what is there to know, sir?”

“C’mon babe,” he tried again. “Open that beautiful mouth of yours and let out your heart’s content. Let that beautiful voice of yours sing lullabies to the bees and insects while I listen and rate you.”

“Five in the family including a cousin that I grew up with whom I treat just like a sister. Her mother died. My mom took over. Her father remarried. He is responsible but you know these step-mothers and step-daughters have a terrible history. They fight each other for the attention of one man who is either her husband or just the other’s father. I am third in line to the throne. The first two are males and the last a male. My cousin comes in to be the sister that I never have.”

“Three males and four females in my family. Dates of births like 1966, 1968, 1970, 1973, 1976, 1978 and lastly 1981. I was born in 1970. I am not the first neither am I the last. I am the first not to enter the secondary school teaching field. The first two are girls, after me is a girl skip and there is a girl. Both ladies teach at secondary schools, Geography and Science the other Foods & Nutrition.”

“Seven?” she asked.

“Yap. Two below me are in secondary and the other two are at primary schools.”

“You should have fought tooth and claw for every inch of space in these our small houses,” she replied. “Before extension, ours was two bedrooms, a small kitchen and a large lounge. There was a large yard. Now it’s a small yard, four bedrooms, a dining room, fitted kitchen, a passage leading to a separate toilet and shower, tub and a lounge. That could do well for seven kids and their parents. There is a precast wall on three sides of the property. The side facing the road has a brick wall with a sliding gate which has panels that can make us see what’s in the road and vice versa.”

“Who is in charge of the gate in case I pass by?” he asked.

“My father and a male bull terrier that eats a lot of mustard,” she replied. “The dog has a liking for tearing flesh, especially leg tendons.”

“Oh if that was to give me a fright, well, at least you know the story,” he said. “I believe our large families are fast disappearing as the economy starts biting dust. How do you feed seven children if they were all in the same house when there is a shortage of sugar like now? At least you are the born free?”

“I was born before 1980. I was born before independence,” she replied. “I am three years your junior. I was born before the end of the Rhodesian bush war. I should have been crawling between the wheels of Rhodesian army Puma or Crocodile armoured personnel carriers. Where did you grow up that gave you that good character?”

“I grew up in a mining compound having a miner for a father and a company house for living quarters. Mining compounds are not known as being breeding grounds for good characters. They have the same infamous reputation like high density areas a case in point the infamous Matapi or Matererini flats. It was adequate but we were many yet we fitted in well,” he replied. “I always remember my mother being the family gardener. She could use all tricks in the book to maintain greens on the table for us from her yard at home in the dry season. In the wet season she grew maize, sweet potatoes, beans, jugo beans, pumpkins, water melons and other stuff.”

It was Saturday so he was free after studying until ten in the morning. They walked towards Charge Office to get either Harare United buses or commuter omnibuses depending on what was available first. Conventional buses were cheaper, slower and commuter omnibuses were faster and more expensive.

“The fare is upon me,” he said taking her arm towards a row of buses. They were pressed together with his hand over her seat. She was pressed against him. He could feel her breath, her excitement and her closeness to him. They got off at St. Peters where he had overshot his bus stop by several kilometres. He walked her into Glen Norah A promising to see her on Sunday at two in the afternoon at the nearest bus stop to Glen Norah A. “I will be at Chitubu beer garden bus stop at two tomorrow”.

“If I am free,” she had suggested. “Make sure you leave the beer hall where it is and you don’t smell like it or the Chibuku® opaque beer. Make sure when you breathe out or hiccup you don’t fill the entire emergency taxi with the smell of Chibuku®.”

“Oh?”

“In other ways be sober or I will cancel”, she had instructed.

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