HoneyCrisp 14 Holstein

In the international game of soccer, you hear of players doing bicycle kicks. How does a bicycle kick a ball? What is the position of the saddle and fly wheel in the operation? Come to think of it, where will the chain be? When I grew up, in the rural areas, we went herding cattle. I knew of horse, donkey and ox kicks. Worse still the front kick of the giraffe. Buffaloes don’t kick, they do a horn toss. Tossing raw eggs is better than the horn toss of an ox or a buffalo. If either gets a man between the legs ______. None was ever mentioned in the soccer league. How about the soccer star did a goat head butt on the ball?

13. Holstein

“Excuse me madam. My name is Bernard.”

Here we go again she thought. Should we say hurray, someone had remembered their first name? This was a speech from a tall lanky looking male youth with flesh that fitted his bone cavity. He was dark brown in complexion. He stood straight like a lamp post. If they had been cattle, this one was a pedigree ox. His hair was kinky as if he had been deciding to run on plaits or dreadlocks later.

The churches had an engagement in Harare Gardens. It was the in thing to hosts events there. It was right in the thick of the city with a commanding position on all the four sides of the compass. The gardens were a place to rest bodies, soul and their mind for people weary with running the rat race. While contemplating a thing or two, a good choir could raise the hopes of a few. A good word would strengthen the resolve of some and give them back a fighting chance in life. Without hope there was no future.

It was right at the opposite end of the impressive Monomutapa Crown Plaza Hotel and Conference Centre. Their combined church group could not afford using the hotel conference centre or that at the Harare Sheraton, both which were world standards. In both instances, there was no need for instruments and their supporting systems. Everything would be spot on. Very few churches did, not local ones. That would eat through their budgets. She had never heard of any church or music activity happening there.

She attended a suburban church in the sprawling residential area of Hatfield. New churches that were springing up were tussling for rented accommodation. She was considered ‘upper class.’ That was being ranked by fluency in the spoken English, etiquette, couture, finances and manners. She didn’t know about this and other rankings. She would have been upset on knowing. She would certainly have discouraged that and any other non-spiritual behaviour which were kin to discrimination. She knew however that the bottom of the social status was occupied by maids and their male equivalent, mostly garden hands. They tended to be the ones minding the children while their employers enjoyed the services.

How was your Sunday this week my friend? No, I didn’t hear the sermon properly. I was minding the same children including those of the boss family’s friends. They were naughty as usual. They remind me of my status again. I can’t do anything when they are mischievous but report. Report! Report! Yeah, yeah, report again! They always call me a tape recorder. I don’t know why, would you? You mean Monday to Sunday, no off? That is an expensive and reprehensive word! They say I will be free Sunday. The lady boss says no two churches in her house. That is why I have to mind the children and follow church protocol. It's like faith for a job and benefits of a maid.

She wanted me to go plant crops at the rural hangover of her parents alongside other villagers hired for the purpose who get paid with food and items like soap bars, sugar and flour. The male boss said, Nada, I wasn't to go there. She has to know how I am fed spiritually. Sunday I am stuck with them like a Kariba bream caught in a net. I have to first attend church. Then I need patience and prayers. I need to wait until their little meetings and greetings are over. Then back home with them I go around 1430hrs. I will then be free after preparing the evening meal, to sleep and be called up again if a visitor patches up.

I have to lock my room against that uncle of hers who drinks like he has the title deeds to where beer is manufactured. He is a nuisance. I refuse to come out when he has messed up. He once wanted to handle me like one of the loose morales he finds near his watering holes that stink of immorality and lack of shame. Every time he taps at my door in the night. Madam you tell her. She said never unlock. I am the seventh domestic in two years. That’s a good staff turnover. Keisha however worked hard. She was not bossy. She put her neck and hands on the job. Her father affectionately called her busy bee!

Next to their base for two days was a pedestrian thoroughfare big enough for an Oshkosh truck and trailer to pass through. Steel concrete filled poles in the ground at several locations in orders of three or four across put paid to any motorist using this as a short cut. Every tarmac wide enough for vehicles had these structures except one or two that allowed those who rented within the gardens to come in. It was reserved for pedestrians, cyclists and motorized cyclists to move through into deeper recesses of Harare Gardens which were served by tarmac.

Every pedestrian walkway was tarmac though some patches were growing more polka dot marked like a body that had gone through chicken or small pox. Some parts of the park were adorned with canopies of trees whereupon which someone could move a hundred metres without seeing the sun. This was good for itchy eyes and those suffering from hang over. It was a wonderful place to be lost in, outside the noise and sights of the declining city attractions.

Another part had climbers covering the passageway to which walkers and cyclists went under like going into the habitation of The Hobbit. Another part had a canopy of fir trees. Within the park was an open air amphitheatre that was also rented out for public events like churches. It was far away from the section Keisha was in, in a westerly direction while Keisha was at the south eastern section. A large amount of pedestrian and cycling traffic passed through where Keisha was. It was a popular base to rent for public events. The pedestrian way accommodated human traffic from the Avenue flats centred on Old Mazowe Street and jay walkers taking a breather.

The singers and choirs were fine tuning their performances. They were all in one voice, one uniform with recorded acts to go through. Their choirs, praise & worship leaders had been hammered to be one unit not five different churches. The choirs were to concentrate on hymns. The section for praise and worship was for acrobatic dancing. These were for modern trends in contemporary music. These would keep the audience alive. Gifts came in different forms. Some were gifted singers with angelic voices.

Others were instrumentalists with some singers as well. There were others who could manipulate their bodies when dancing to seem to flow. It was as if they were made of cartilage without any skeleton. Choirs prepared them for worship sessions. Throughout the five weekdays they had been training in mixed pockets according to their residential backgrounds.

The whole space was filled by a huge flapping tent. There were plastic stacking chairs neatly arranged in rows. Speakers in various forms like woofers, tweeters and bass bins were allocated space to present audio. This was a place full of chatter of human traffic, whine of the city, honking of vehicles and the grinding noises of different engines. There were vehicles that passed close by the quarter moon road on the edge of the park.

The ushers were standing by, on the ready. This was where courtesy paid. Every church required growth to fulfil their great commission. They did not wait for natural births to grow up. There was movement of humans all over the world this was not reliable to wait upon. Five small denominations had brought on one muscle to bring well known evangelistic figures from across the Limpopo and Zambezi to speak for two days starting this Saturday morning.

“I am called Keisha. Are you from our local church?” Keisha had asked.

She knew most people if not by name then facially except few new comers or those that came once in a long while. She had not yet been familiar with this one. She was a social person who mixed well before, during and after services. A combined service brought in many different assemblies within the same church. That meant once in a while she lost some faces new and old. Worse still when five small churches brought their assemblies together. Though not every member was coming, even if fifty each came, that was a lot of new faces to consider.

“No I attend church in Mbare,” the boyish looking younger man had replied. "I had business at Afdis Distillers in Stapleford along Lomagundi Road. I heard music when I got out at the corner of Harare Gardens looking upon the high school wall."

"That was very good of you to find time for worship."

"Thank you for the encouragement."

"That is the way to blessings. Knowing the good compassionate Lord and loving Him with all your might. Mbare which side?"

"Near Mbare High School."

He even had big white teeth. He was growing facial hair under the chin and slightly above the upper lip. The growth was tangled like a garden left unattended during the rains. He looked boyish yet he was very handsome.

“We do have a branch in Mbare.”

She had remembered. Having a branch in Mbare did not signify that the youth was from there. He kept tugging at his overlapping and sagging out trousers. Within the trousers were a short and inside it another as was standard with youths these days. Where Christians supposed to be swayed by every figment of fashion? She kept her tongue in cheek.

After all, the dressing adorned by the ladies from the married middle aged down to the youths left a lot to be desired. Everybody seemed to be blamed by the way they dressed. Either they were seeming to compete to be seen or to be mightily proud of their wardrobes. Where did the scriptures say every latest trend in fashion should be in the house of praise?

The male youths in turn dressed the same as the world, latest fashions and hair crazes were the norm. When an international soccer star dyed his hair purple, it was purple patches all over the city. Taboos of a generation ago were free style fashions for both sexes these days.

“Which church do you attend?” he had asked pausing for a while from lifting this and that.

“I attend _______ Church branch in Hatfield,” she had replied. “We are currently using the hall at the Hatfield Fire Station base. It may look funny but our Parktown branch uses the Waterfalls Fire Station hall as well. Some people from Mbare prefer to attend the Waterfalls one. It's for those who drive. There is a distance between the hall and inner Mbare.”

He talked with her while lifting objects, receiving things and taking them were needed as did other youths and married people who opted to help. They worked on final preparations talking as they carried items from here and there.

Two sessions later:

After the second session she met him on the food queue. Catering was by the churches. Every food item was on sell from morning to the late night service. Those milling around the park had helped themselves to hot food bought off the queue.

“Hi. What are you buying?” she asked.

“As usual sadza and beef will do,” he had replied. “I would have liked sadza and beef bones. I tend to have some strong teeth that I have nothing to use for.”

“Mind if I pay for you? What drink do you take?” she had asked.

“My sister _____.”

“What drink?”

“Coke will do,” he had succumbed.

They sat by a shed conversing while eating. She chose beef and potato mash with mixed fruit salad. He had his maize meal thick porridge, beef and vegetables. She concluded her meal by washing it down with a fruit mixture. She used a straw. He took the can straight to his mouth. She supposed he was about four years her junior.

“What do you do for a living Bernard?”

“I work in a warehouse in Msasa industrial. I am a shipping clerk. You didn’t tell me your name.”

“I said I am called Keisha earlier on,” she replied.

Was he listening to anything she was telling him? Or had he plainly forgotten? Why had he zeroed in on her when there had been many youths of all colours, sizes and sexes working early in the morning? She wondered why certain things happened to certain people and not others. That was life at its best. It had no reasons or explanations. It owed no one no quarter.

“Are you very active in your church’s youth movement?” he had asked.

“Yes,” she had replied. "That is where I get my bread toasted for good conduct."

What a cute way to ask if she was married. There was a cue from the music playing on the speakers that the afternoon’s third session was on. She planned on being here until late in the night after the fourth session. Water, food, drinks, the word and its activities, ablution facilities were available. So she had reason to forget the hustle and bustle of everything else to concentrate on being here. This was the preventive medicine that took care of the worry and anxiety of overworking.

“Are you attending the next session?” he had asked.

“Yes definately,” she had replied. “It is a declaratory, worship and prayer session. It pays to make decrees, declarations, sing and pray. It is good to receive everything you had not planned in a series of workshops or conferences. Do you sing at all?"

"No, I listen to music. I can't make head or tail of the hymns or even notes even if I have the hymn book. I sing when I am very happy or sad. I can't tell the difference. I always wipe a tear or two. I sing to myself rather. I forget where I am."

"Are you coming for the evening service?” she had asked.

“No, I have to see to the boys.”

Whosoever the boys were, off he went to see to them or be to see them whichever it was. She did not ask him to elaborate on that point. She thought that was the last she had seen of this peculiar youth with uncombed but clean hair.

Keisha was seeing off a visitor in the company of her younger sister Karla. They moved down a pedestrian side of a busy thoroughfare within their residential district. Every residential area had zones for schools, hospitals, shopping complexes, businesses, churches, roads, storm water drainage or left alone for different reasons. Originally it was just a two way road that served the interior of their suburb.

As houses had increased, traffic too had learnt to build up, and peak into congestion. As more and more businesses like truck/bus/fuel depots moved into and converted former residential areas, the traffic network increased while the quality lowered. Now traffic had turned the link road into a major thoroughfare. Motorists at times used interior roads to avoid congestion along Seke, Airport, St. Patricks, Delport and Chiremba Roads which were major thoroughfares.

During congestion it was easy to judge the level of impatience of motorists. No one failed to reach their intended destination. They chose to run around like black and red ants preparing for war. Take no prisoners, take as much food as you can carry to the victorious nest. Loot the camp of the enemy to the bone.

They were walking slowly busy in conversation. Periodically they laughed at everything as if they were a trio of little girls. The girl inside a woman did not evaporate on maturity. A kombi stopped by the side of the road. Traffic was unforgiving, periodically vehicles were wheezing on both lanes. There was a concrete gulley to their left. It was about a metre deep. They had either to jump the galley or wait until the kombi had driven off. There was a pedestrian lane to the far left which had been overgrown by bougainvillea creepers near where they were. The outgrowth which had taken years testified to lack of maintenance by council or concerned residents. Now it probably needed metal hooks and a few machetes to get rid of the growth one stem at a time for some hours. They had left the pedestrian way with fore knowledge of the overgrown section.

From within the vehicle a young man came out. He moved backwards. He pulled up sagging trousers. He turned away from those disembarking to give them elbow room between the body of the vehicle and the gulley so they could move behind the stationery kombi. He started chatting to a couple a little further from him who were standing by the road.

First he announced the destination then the the fare. If they wanted to negotiate, they had to do it outside the kombi. Within, it was assumed fares called for outside were standard, no deviation. Ultimately, the driver remained head turned backwards looking at the interchange of words. The young man ushered the couple in.

“City gang of madams?”

The young man raised his hand looking at their threesome. Keisha was holding onto a green broadcloth wrapped around her body. Only her face and fingers were visible. Her eyes were hidden in dark sunglasses.

“No,” Karla shook her head.

“I saw you working as a conductor.”

Keisha had announced when she saw Bernard in the church grounds after the morning service. Karla had been the director of ceremony ushering welcomes to different parties most profoundly to new people, those with new babies, parents of church mates who had visited. She had been allocating time for events before the preaching of the word. She had looked smart and redolent in her peach longer than knee V-necked dress. Keisha had been holding a two year old in her arms when she had seen Bernard coming in. He had his head bent in a bow, his hand over his short sleeve collar shirt. He had been shown the nearest seat by an usher. He had folded his legs after pulling up his trousers. He sat one leg above another.

“Where and when?” He had been startled. She had explained.

“There was a lady in a green looking loincloth covering every item of her body except the face. She was wearing dark glasses walking with two other ladies. There was a bougainvillea bush which had outgrown into the pedestrian and cycling lane to the left.”

“Oh? I thought she was a Moslem.”

“That was me.”

“Really? Why did you hide yourself?” he asked.

“I was holding the loincloth of the lady we were seeing off. I was wearing it more like.”

“Was that you with two ladies?” he asked. “I wouldn’t have known except if you had spoken.”

“Yeah.”

“I remember now. I was heading for the city”

“Why were you the conductor?” she asked.

“I was covering up for a sick relative,” he had replied. “When you are known to the public transport operator crews, they can even sit on the back and allow you to do chores. I am known. I don’t do free rides. I work for them.”

“Really? You said you are an accounts executive.”

“Indigenous businesses have no clearly defined job descriptions Keisha. When can I see you again?”

“For what?”

“Just to talk things out between two church people. A male youth and a single sister in the Lord. We could chat about home, the fields, crops, cattle, state of the economy, weather and everything, later perhaps?” he was looking sheepish.

“Like what things in particular if you can be precise?”

“You embarrass a guy Keisha. You are a good looking impressive Christian youth. Why shouldn’t male youths be interesting in befriending you? The future is like a field that hasn’t started growing crops. Till and look after it well, who knows?”

“Come off it, what is so embarrassing you cannot say it in the church grounds?” she had asked. "Why don't you be man enough to discuss whatever you have in your mind?"

“Like a date?” he stammered. “Outside the confines of the church for instance. Do you like films, musicals or what have you?”

Keisha was driving in Chiremba Road heading for the city. She decided to pick up a bottle of water. She was feeling hot already while it was still mid to late morning. She took a turn left going through Braeside shops. Wearing tight fitting jeans and a sweat tee shirt did not help. She could feel the rivulets of sweat going down her armpits. Soon her back would be full of droplets. She really needed to cool her body engine before it went into overdrive.

The Braeside post office reminded her as high schools girls sending application letters for different Lower Sixth schools when they had come as a unit to see a sick friend of theirs. The advantage of or what had befallen city schools was their catchment was all over the towns or cities so visiting friends made students see varied residential areas. Beside that she remembered sending Christmas cards to two male admirers of hers at Kopje post office. She didn't even get a hello or greeting card in return. That was then, she thought, what happened to those Upper Sixes? What if the two she secretly admired had responded? Where had the infatuation gone? At times even in church and society the human concern for love made it happen. There was that special person that awoke a youth's senses then the issue fizzled. She wondered if there was a young man so smitten with her they couldn't talk yet she felt the same for those who didn't give a wink?

She bought a packet of peppermints and two bottles of mineral water. The disadvantage of selective shopping in supermarkets was one ended up with more than they had intended to buy. By the time she started the vehicle, she had a bottle of water, a packet of mints and an empty mineral water bottle. The roads leading in and out of shopping complexes testified to the rot in city council administration. They showcased the state of the socialist run economy. It was as if the motto was to run everything to the ground.

Where a shopping complex was in the hands of one company, the parking space and roads in and out were of very high order. Even the buildings could be distinguished as architectural pieces not the mismatch when everyone built their own bottle store next to their competitor. Rentals however were not very favourable to the unestablished business entrepreneur at privately or company run shopping complexes.

She started driving for the city. She stopped to give way to vehicles which were coming from along Chiremba Road. There were vehicles coming from Epworth heading for the city. She waited her chance to turn left. Out of the rear view mirror she saw a Toyota kombi turning to the road edges to drop off or pick passengers. Something was familiar about the vehicle and the fake items on the fake roof rake. She had observed it somewhere. She didn't wait long to find out.

Behind it, standing on the rear spoiler bar and hanging precariously was a male youth. He was practically hanging onto the rear door holding onto it by the nails. Any loose hold when the vehicle was moving was disastrous. The road cleared for her to turn. She turned for the city. She blew her car horn. She passed the stationery vehicle. The driver, thinking she was complaining, raised his hand outside the window for what or why? His vehicle was completely out of the road except that it blocked access to those coming from the shopping complex. They could not see well beyond the public transporter. The youth was busy seeing passengers out and others in the other side.

Church was a breeze. Bernard was certainly missing services at his own church in favour of hers, if he was church folk at all. He made it a point to search her out every service including the two mid-week services one of which was for the youths, the other for the general populace. At one time she had driven him to Seke Road for a connecting transport to the city.

“It is nine in the evening you are city bound. What time do you get home to rest, wash away the sweat and heat then sleep?” Keisha had asked.

“Keisha big fish like the vundu or tilapia feed when the small fish are sleeping. Introduction of kapenta at Lake Kariba made the tiger fish to leave their prey on bream. It also stopped overfishing of the tiger fish in order to have bream on the palate. If you sleep in Harare, you will always be moving on the welfare bench. The city breathes life in the night. We make a living then.”

“Do you drink?” she had asked innocently.

“No I will be making ends meet here and there. Can I get a hug Keisha?”

"No ways, you are a brother. I don't hug males."

She did not attend the Thursday 1400hrs service for married women though it had very good business and ethical training. She followed their teachings on WhatsApp platforms. One administrator made it a point to send to eligible youths all the good tit bits taught there. It was the older generation trying to groom the younger.

© Copyright tmagorimbo July 2017