LAKE OF MY HEART – CHAPTER 17

LAKE OF MY HEART – CHAPTER 17

On Saturday he had come down from his man curve perch in his flat block jogging down the steps. His thighs no longer rippled with flesh but toned down muscles. By the time he was in the tarred section of the flat block where visitors parked their vehicles, they were three altogether. He wore red shorts and a white V neck vest with grey and white Adidas trainers on his feet. He had ‘invisible’ white socks inside. It was a daily ritual that he had started by joining a group that did just like that.

It meant setting his alarm watch especially in winter when sleep cobwebs took time to evaporate. That was when suddenly, the dreams didn’t want to end. He was jogging down before a quarter past five in the morning. By the time he locked the door, the power utility had switched off power for their entire neighbourhood. He made sure the essentials were switched off before heading out. At times miracles happened, power would be restored within half an hour, at blue moon intervals.

He had joined a number of guys who trotted around flat blocks for about two thousand metres every morning. He did it to reduce his weight and clear away his flesh from fleshy to masculine. It helped clear his mind too. He found it refreshing. It helped viewers from a distance to be able to distinguish between a male and a pregnant female. At one time they looked altogether the same because of his beer belly.

At the end of the run, they trotted into a flat block. There, they did sit ups, press ups and other exercises joined in turn by a boozer soccer team. He normally made his presence scarce before the soccer team had finished training. Their schedule was a tight one.

He had joined them one day early, running through Harare’s lit streets before traffic congestion. They had ended up in Mbuya Nehanda Road heading south then up the Kopje. Here men were separated from boys. The incline ate into the joints, how he did not know. He had reached the peak walking holding his knees only to find more sit ups, press ups and faint sprints were to come.

All the beer he had drunk the previous day had evaporated. His stomach lines had thinned. He had been denied the right to drink water. It did not work well when he was in this tight exercise habit. That day he had drunk more cold water than beer. It was a good start better than just folding sheets then starting to work. Normally when he was free, after the run, he would put his feet up and read the latest in any series of novels that he got hold of from the Harare City Council library in Rotten Row.

Ironically, the Harare City Library looking over the Rotten Row Magistrates Court was very close to the Harare Kopje. One only had to cross a very busy road. They would soon be walking with their hands holding their knees which would be burning. Was this where the Pioneer Column in the 1890’s had pitched the Union Jack? If it was, those guys should have had the best ever view of forests, grasslands, beautiful African maidens and wild roaming animals. Unfortunately, they didn’t have digital cameras then.

The security detail opened the gates he kept locked at night for them. They followed an agreed course jogging almost two kilometres before coming back. By the time he reached his flat, sweat rivulets were all over. His armpits, front, back and legs were wet. His vest was soggy at the back. The power was back again as if someone had let a meter control board circuit breaker trip.

He trimmed his overgrown beard. Under his chin he now could be hard put to find an ant or lice. He took his toothbrush. He went in for a shower running it, soaping and washing for twenty minutes. He got to read segments of the morning paper over a cup of black tea with slices of lemon and a few loose biscuits to help with digestion. The tea tasted good while the imported biscuits tasted of powdered milk.

His landline rang. Getting up was a stiff job. Once up the muscles had relaxed.

“Trevor here,” he said into the mouth piece. “Ja!”

“I thought it was Gloria.”

“Gloria?”

“Yap, your mother of two girlfriend,“ was the reply. “The last time she was expecting the third.”

“The only Gloria I know very much is self-raising, cake, brown flour from Midlands Milling Company,” he had replied. “She is so sweet this Gloria®.”

“Wait till I get my hands on her.”

“She, Gloria® self-raising flour is in your local shops right now.”

“Eight sharp,” she replied.

“Ja.”

He trotted down dressed well for the lady was thrift about appearance. He was at Electricity House before the appointed time. He walked up and down Park Street. On its corner the state power utility’s Electricity House building stood. He was standing with his back against one of the pillars. It was still too early for the banking halls to be open. The steel benches had one or two waiting to pay their energy bills.

She came from Park Street, dressed in deep blue jean skirts, black V-neck t-shirt with crew cut sleeves, black slip on shoes and a black leather hand bag. He watched her coming walking with her cousin. The curves were showing from the tummy, the sleeves and the cleft. Her impressive frame bobbed up and down. She walked slightly stooped forwards.

These two were an item. In the western world they would have been suspected of being cousin lovers. Here no one suspected such a thing. It was different and they were not. They treated each other like siblings. One’s problems were the other’s concern.

He stood behind a flowery shrub with one foot on a half wall. Both looked around for him. He wore denim blue jeans, black canvas shoes, blue t-shirt with green stripes and a black leather slumber jacket.

She saw him. The face lit up in a banana smile. She came with her arms outstretched. She gave him a bear hug, squeezing herself against his frame.

“Hello sweetie,” she said tossing her mane of hair backwards.

Her bosom was thrust into his chest. Rosetta joined the hug briefly before disengaging. Naomi held on for dear life like a rescue victim not believing they were now free.

“Hi Trevor,” Rosetta stretched out her hands. “Don’t get crushed in that hug.”

Rosetta and Naomi curtsied as was customary for women to respect men when they greeted Trevor by shaking his hands. There was the sound of hands slapping together as Trevor gave them the customary greeting of slapping hands together.

“Whatever is left of me will be lucky.”

“Make sure you have a will,” Rosetta suggested. "Better still insurance. The hugs keep getting tighter by the week."

“And you will be the principal beneficiary?” asked Naomi.

“Like in those James Hardley Chase novels you love reading full of sex, crime, suspense and intrigue,” Rosetta accused.

“How are you Naomi and Rose?” he asked.

“We are fine. I just wanted to have a time with you in town. I almost wanted to change the time,” Naomi had replied. “Don’t worry about my tag line.”

“Me, your tag line?” Rosetta asked.

“Did she say Rosetta?” Trevor defended.

“You must be terribly in love to support her.”

Naomi kept her arm around his waist. She felt very warm and lovely. There was the wafting smell of perfume either from Naomi or Rosetta. Rosetta also turned heads as a tall, slightly stout maiden with a medium bosom. Trevor guessed she had left some hearts damaged along the way.

“You are looking fresh, handsome, young and palatable Trevor.”

Rosetta flashed a smile that showed her perfectly white big and bold teeth.

“He is?” Naomi asked. “I didn’t notice that. However he looks very smartly dressed, shaved and sweet smelling.”

“Naomi, if you ever grow tired of him could you hand him over?” Rosetta complimented Naomi on her date and her choice.

“This time, NO ways, you are a mite too late shamwari. But then Rosetta has a client to check out so here we are. I wanted to come into the city later than planned. I almost called to say nine thirty instead of eight sharp.”

“Talk of liking her time in between the sheets in dream land,” Rosetta said. “Waking her up is a hazardous trade. One day I will apply for an allowance from you. Wait till she is your missus then you will find her asleep at mid-day. Then try to wake her up when she is sleepy. You won’t know the difference between putting your hands into a Doberman’s mouth and her bite.”

“Hey! I set up the appointment with him. I could have changed it had it not been for your intransigence.”

“You still love your beauty sleep”, Rosetta smiled.

She put her own arms around Naomi to make it a trio. They walked away. There was so much to talk about and laugh aloud too carefree and exuberant with their youth. If there was a happiness or a joy meter, it was almost close to breaking point.

“I was late getting to bed. You may be a trained hair dresser, yet I know as much as you do. I helped you right up to ten thirty in the evening,” she complained. “That was before that lady could drive home. I was helping you plait and weave that woman’s hair. She is the talk of the wedding today with your name being superimposed over mine.”

“Now you will probably ask for an allowance,” suggested Rosetta.

“Why not?” asked Naomi peeping at Rosetta from the middle of the trio pack walking arm in arm.

“I am the mistress and you can never rise above the mistress,” Rosetta said to Naomi. “Trevor, how do you stand her? Next, she will be telling you she is your estate agent boss.”

“Talk of Animal Farm, some girls like Rosetta are more equal to girls like Naomi”, Naomi replied checking at Rosetta with her flashing white teeth.

“You want to be the pig or donkey in Animal Farm?” asked Trevor.

“Neither,” Rosetta affirmed.

“She is making me George Orwell’s donkey,” wailed Naomi.

Rosetta received a call. She disengaged for a while. She confirmed the time and that she was in Samora Machel Avenue.

“Two things my lady, I can get into a kombi for Chisipite where you can pick me up at the shops,” she was saying. “Where is this daughter of yours based? Oh ________, let me make it easy for her. I am in Samora Machel Avenue corner Julius Nyerere. ______ I will walk up Julius Nyerere towards Monomutapa Hotel before Harare Gardens entrance and wait for her. ___ what’s the colour of the Volkswagen Golf? ____ grey NB 124 765Y? Fine.”

“The lady doesn’t want you using public transport,” suggested Trevor.

“She is keen on time. She says her cousin is coming there so it would suit me fine. If you were not keen on kissing this girl, she would have come in as an assistant,” Rosetta replied.

“I am not.”

“I am taken,” Naomi replied.

“You are sure that you don’t want to come with me to Chisipite?” asked Rosetta.

“Me?” asked Trevor.

“You would get drunk with nothing to do,” suggested Rosetta.

“She is afraid of seeing her cadet police officer boyfriend at Tomlinson Police Depot on guard duty,” Naomi suggested.

“You should pull out her tits ________,” Rosetta didn’t finish. Naomi was chasing her. Trevor held Naomi back to break the chase.

They walked off heading west waiting for Rosetta’s client to pick her up. She wanted Rosetta to do the hairs of four ladies going to a party in the afternoon.

“Let’s see Rosetta off first,” suggested Naomi.

“As long as you two don’t argue about who is the better hair dresser,” Trevor said.

Naomi had not let go her arm off his waist as they walked.

“I wasn’t arguing. I was talking. That is justified.”

“She didn’t take her pill this morning”, Rosetta had their trio laughing. “I will have to bring her in for maternity evaluation.”

“Rosetta, you shall want to call a favour. I won’t be your assistant hair dresser,” Naomi replied before she broke off laughing. “Trevor is a celibate monk.”

“You bet?” Rosetta asked. “You really are sure?”

“You girls are talking about me. Make sure you both don’t take Holy Communion next time because you keep grudges,” Trevor suggested.

“Wait until she is your lady. I will renounce her gown of arguments and throw it towards you. The best way to keep her out of arguments is having her in a rural tenement, bare foot most of the time, a baby shackled at her back and a huge tummy protruding through the two sets of dresses she would be wearing.”

“Rosetta you are supposed to be siding with me,” Naomi complained. “And it will be you coming to help me tend the babies. You dot on me as much as I do on you.”

“I will buy you sets of maternity dresses every two years then”, Rosetta added salt to injury. “And a cartoon of washing soap plus play things for the babies.”

They waited near the park entrance until a grey Golf driven by a young lady came to stop briefly. Rosetta stepped up to the window opposite the driver and queried. She opened the door, waved. The Golf drove off.

“Do you drive?” he asked.

“I did a provisional driver’s test which expires in a few months,” she replied. “I didn’t even bother taking a single lesson.”

“Remind me on Sunday afternoon when the streets of Harare are not that busy. I could have you drive an hour or an hour and a half in the Nissan.”

“That is like a lorry Trevor,” she replied squeezing her arm around him.

“It’s not.”

“I would be comfortable with the Toyota Corollas of the world”, she was insistent.

“I will arrange with a friend of mine every Sunday,” he promised. “My flat is that way.”

“Whatever arrangements we make you have to be conscious of that I still am under my parents. I am away from the age of twenty-one but still I have to report ______.”

“Meaning every kiss is reported?” he asked.

“Trevor! There is something that I want to show you”, she said. She thought better, pulled him to a stop, tiptoed and whispered into his ear. “Something better than staying in a flat on a rainy day kissing and touching before marriage. Stay away from temptation and God will continually bless you.”

“I have a small mole on the tongue so I promise I won’t do that”, he had her laughing.

They crossed into Karigamombe Building. His bank was displayed, Standard Chartered Bank. It was also one of his company’s corporate bankers besides Barclays Bank and ANZ Grindlays Bank. She kept her arm around him.

“Do you ever do anything without Rosetta?” he asked.

“Do you want me to leave her when I meet you?” she asked.

“Nope, I was just wondering aloud.”

“Yes I date alone. She does the same. We don’t double date or go on blind dates carried by the other. She doesn’t interfere or offer advice with my dates neither do I unless we decide to talk about you male people.”

“Are there many of us?”

“Many variants.”

“I was just asking?” he replied. “I don’t know much about dating seeing that I was kept in a monastery.”

“Trevor? Does she offend you?” she replied.

“No, no”, he felt guilty. “Just that today you were just opposing each other but in a friendly fashion.”

He pushed his arm over her shoulder squeezing her closer to him. The weather was alternating between sunny and cloudy. Cloud galleons were separated by wind. Thus they were apart causing sun and shade to fall on the city streets. With a wind howling at times, the shade was an inconvenience. Added to which was something called fashion.

“We are close. She lost her mother when she was very young. Her father remarried and you know these women when they marry. They have two enemies. One is the mother in law and the worst is a baby of her husband by another woman. So we shared my parents and all facilities at Glen Norah A. She never really mixed well with her step mother or her half siblings.”

“How long has the father been married?” he probed.

“He married within a year after the cancer had taken Rosetta’s mother. Rosetta should have been between four and five then, an only child. It has been more than twenty years at most. She has four step brothers and sisters. Our relationship is from the mother’s side so we hardly see the three girls and boy plus Marondera is another time away. You know step mothers, they become conscious of you as a grown up daughter or son when you begin to work or produce a living. When the groceries and clothes parcels are trickling in, it’s okay. Get divorced and try and stay at home then find out what happens when hell breaks out.”

“I have a feeling if she doesn’t approve of me I am ditched,” he replied.

“She was not in the scenario when I came in and out of your life,” she replied. “That was me, my youth and insecurities talking. You know what you guys do, get a girl pregnant and throw her out into the streets. She remarries and the new family doesn’t want anything to do with the baby. She, the baby becomes an outsider that’s how Rosetta grew up. I rather feel like I respect men who get widowed and take time for their children before marrying. Why can’t you male folk survive four to six years of celibacy? Within a year, Rosetta’s father had a pregnant woman in his digs.”

“We men always feel sorry for pregnant single women so at times we take them aboard,” he reasoned.

“What?”

“It’s scary to sleep all alone after the death of a wife. Comforters come in all sizes,” he changed tact. “The dark nights become terrible, long and arduous.”

“So while being comforted you impregnate another woman within a year of your own wife’s death. Where is respect? It requires time to date and check the date’s credentials against your child.”

“A child?”

“It wasn’t even a year, it was around eight months and the woman was about four months pregnant.”

“I can tell there is a love hate relationship between you combined with Rosetta and her stepmother,” Trevor suggested.

“She is evil.”

“So who paid her fees and upkeep?” he asked.

“The father did once in a while otherwise it was my parents taking the tab.”

“Call it pent up frustration. At least I didn’t dump any pregnant girl”, he squeezed her arm. “I haven’t _______ yet.”

“You are never going to.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Was that a promise, of not yet?”

“No I was just giving a different but similar scenario.”

“In her case, the father remarried very quickly.”

Naomi took him by the hand, through a maze of streets to a litter of shops to look at engagement and wedding rings.

“One of these on you and me would maybe stop those interruptions to our friendship,” she had suggested. “Just a suggestion from a love lorne girl. Don’t listen much, the battery is fully charged today.”

The shop owner came towards them.

“Can I be of assistance?”

“Just window shopping”, she said.

“There are other rings beside these engagement ones,” the Caucasian had said in Afrikaner accented English. “Come this side and let me show you.”

“There is certainly no harm in window shopping,” Trevor suggested.

As she turned to be shown, Trevor indicted with his fore finger to one of the shop assistants. He came closer.

“You measure her ring finger for an engagement ring, hush-hush,” Trevor suggested. “Not even a word to her.”

“Very good sir.”

“I will give you my number you call me when it’s ready,” he said.

As the Caucasian owner showed them more rings, the African assistant challenged them to have their fingers measured.

“There is no harm I tell you,” he said and he did.

Trevor was measured while Naomi was seeing other rings. In turn after they had toured the jewellers, he took her to Old Mazowe Road showing her a two bedroom flat on the fourth floor which was his allocation from his company.

“I am famished.”

“I will make you something.”

He took her to the shops. He bought top side mince, a large brown onion, garlic cloves, Worcestershire sauce, parsley, 2 eggs, 4 hamburger rolls, cheddar cheese, two tomatoes and lettuce leaves. While she watched, he fried the mince, mixed the ingredients after which he produced four homemade burgers that they consumed in the kitchen.

“I didn’t know you could cook let alone make good burgers,” she said wiping her mouth. “Who taught you that?”

She was surprised by the goodness of something he had created as she watched.

“Growing pains. I used to cook when I was growing up for the whole family helping my sisters and elder siblings. We shared chores, cooking and cleaning,” he had replied. “I remember sweeping our bedroom for the boys. Then we scrubbed it with a cloth dipped in soapy water.”

“The food was good. I thought I could stop at a single burgher. I consumed two and a whole 750-ml of coke?” she queried. "I am overfed."

“I should have run a Trevor’s Burger and Chips business somewhere,” he replied. “I saw a workmate of mine who does these homemade things for his family. I liked the idea of making dinner or supper for the whole family. Hey, we gonna eat at nine instead of seven-thirty tonight because dad is cooking. You heard? Huh, my dad has the apron. Mom? She has her feet on a coach. She is watching The Housewives of Atlanta.”

They stood on a French window looking across at his short balcony and the world below. He had his arms around her body. She stood in front of him both were looking at Harare Gardens being seen in patches beyond.

“A college mate of mine is from somewhere within these flats where she and her family live. We, I and a friend visited her occasionally. I never thought I loved flats.”

“Do you?”

“For starters there is no problem,” she replied. “I don’t think they are baby friendly though.”

“If you noticed, there are children here,” he replied. “I know I had an uncle who lived in the Glen Norah flats. He later moved to Kuwadzana 4.”

“Imagine a seven and a half pregnant woman going up three floors.” she thought aloud.

“Imagine the ngula living here and giving births to all the children we saw. Obviously all those children might not have been born here but some were conceived, carried and born here”, he was insistent.

“If you insist,” she replied. “You seem not to feel sorry for a pregnant wife to be.”

“Are you a ngula?” he asked.

“What is that?” she asked.

“One who is pregnant in my native tongue,” he replied.

“Not yet,” she replied. “Not very long though, maybe sometime next year. Then thereafter four babies in ten years.”

“What if someone dumps me?” Trevor asked. “I am not growing any younger.”

“I know. I am sorry _______,” she had said. “Was there any changes you wanted before the flat is occupied?”

They hugged. It was so good to be in love. He kissed her mouth, tongue for tongue not minding the wall to wall French window with curtains drawn back. Her kiss had a salty teary taste

“Repaint, a little touch of carpentry on the sink cupboards and replacement of two bulb connectors that don’t work.”

“And your colours?”

“Cream and white,” he suggested. “Not very different from the cream and grey which were in here.”

“You will need potted flowers, real flowers to aerate the living room, two in there and one set of two on the balcony. You know how potted flowers are, European varieties do well under dark conditions while our African types will require sunlight and the balcony.”

“I don’t know much about flowers.”

“There are more of potted plants than flowers. There is a place at Avenues shop where I saw them under a shade,” she replied. “In case you didn’t notice, I am a strict person. There is a burglar screen outside. It has a padlock on a chain which is not in use.”

“Yap.”

“Get a hacksaw and get rid of it.”

“Wow! The woman does give orders.”

“Make sure all the interior doors have keys.”

“I suppose you will require spare keys?” he asked.

“Why not, who knows when you are going to lock yourself out. Those are padlocks, they can lock the keys in,” she had said. “Imagine locking the keys in when you were in your jogging shorts only.”

© Copyright tmagorimbo 2014