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The Heart of a Hero

Part 1

Lebohang Nthongoa

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All rights are reserved in all media. No part of this book
may be used or reproduced in any manner without
written permission, except in the brief quotation
embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters,

organisations and events portrayed in this novel are
either products of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The Heart of a Hero

Copyright © 2017 Lebohang Nthongoa

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-620-75995-3 (Soft Cover)

ISBN: 978-0-620-75996-0 (eBook)

Second edition

Photography by Ubuntu Promedia

Cover by Dion V. Rademeyer

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 Acknowledgements
A God-idea made manifest. I am truly blessed and grateful
to have been the one through whom this book
materialised. I hope it touches and changes many lives for
the better.

To my ever-supportive and loving family: I can’t

thank you all enough for the encouragement and
listening to my creative and not-so-great ideas.

To the best editors ever: Lesley Mofokeng, Sue

Olswang, Louise McAuliffe and Tristan Bain Venn - you
are amazing!

Abdul Milazi, Londiwe Dlomo, Palesa Kgwale and

Anthony Ehler, thank you so much for your feedback.

To my cover models: Boitumelo Mainganya and

Kgothatso Masha. You guys are the real deal. I hope and
pray this is only the beginning of great things for you,
through this book. A massive thank you for being my
‘twins’. I’m truly honoured.

Ubuntu Promedia, you guys have the golden

touch. Thank you for the beautiful pictures and capturing
my vision.

Dion V. Rademeyer, your hands are magic. The

cover and artwork are beautiful, thank you so much.

And to everyone who is as excited about this

book as I am and all those who have opened themselves
up to read this book, I appreciate you.

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 Matters of the heart
By: Gaddafi the Poet

I am very black that you cannot see my dark skin with

your naked eyes
I am a blessing in disguise
An angel sent to pass peace
Thoroughly sculptured I am a masterpiece
Born to lead

It is hard to be me living under this skin condition

My upbringing was rooted and embedded by uninformed
myths escalating within the societal bliss,
doing as they please and wish forgetting that I am a
human being,
I got dissed and teased which really dismantled my self-
esteem and ever since, ever since I have never had peace,
Put yourself in my shoes and wonder how you would
have coped being called a thing

Rich kids believed that I was a product of a witch,

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having to live and mingle with something they have never
seen,
Do you blame them? Well I don’t, even old people still
believe in the same thing,
you find mothers in the streets turning around when they
see me and say ‘sies’ and spits on their chest avoiding to
give birth to white kids,
Where was I supposed to live? Canned in tins?

It is painful to see more and more people living with

albinism being treated like trash as if we don’t belong to
the mother-earth
But I like a struggle soldier tie my boots so tight because
the journey hasn’t started yet.
I will fight them till the end because I don’t mind being in
a prison cell if that’s the price I have to pay for my self-
worth.
I value myself because I was not far-fetched my mother
gave birth,
Why do we face killings and death?

I blame the educational system for failing to teach the

kids about albinism,
They left the matter unattended and neglected, watering
the seeds of racism and the roots of prejudice.
Mentally I am schizophrenic, heart torn and soul lost as I
wrote this and my lips and eyes are dry craving for peace
within communities.

They say united we stand divided we fall

How do I unite knowing that somewhere in Tanzania I
have got a price tag?
I raise my fist for young and old heroes and heroines
slaughtered for ancestral works,
They never cared about their dreams, ambitions and
determinations the government turned a blind eye
providing their families with black body bags
I carry the burden on my back calling upon for societal
help to help reduce more suicidal curse.
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 They preach social inclusivity within their communities
proving the fact that I am not integrated amongst their
society.
Defined the word Albino as an animal in their dictionaries,
placing a permanent mind-set about my sense of being in
the minds of individuals, intellectuals and dignitaries.
What’s left is for all the secretaries to note down the
word and deliver it to their higher
authorities.

Life is hard
Matters of the heart
Praying for cage-less lives
I have been working hard

I am The Nothing One

I am The Nothing One

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 The Masalus

Joy and hopelessness rule in 1995.

The year starts with a promise of joy and hope.

But it would end bleakly.

The weight of Bibi’s blessings puts a cruel bend

to the deep-seated joy in her heart.

The challenge would last for as long as her old

shoulders can carry the weight.

Her world would never be the same again, nor would the
lives she is entrusted with be safer than when they were
unseen.

*****

Bibi has kept her small family thriving after her husband’s
death many years ago.

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 The matriarch of the Masalu family loves to
relate how her husband single-handedly built their
marital home one splatter of mud at a time just before
she married him.

Theirs is a love story typical of where they come

from: boy meets girl – down the hill and by the lake’s
edge. They marry and go on to build a life together – she
on the homefront, he in the workplace.

Bibi grows up an ambitious young girl whose

aspirations for life beyond the small village she knows are
propelled by her love for reading. She’s one of the few
lucky girls in the village who had the privilege of learning
to read, thanks to her forward-thinking father. He only
had daughters.

She escapes the humdrum of daily life of a village

girl through reading, having been brought up to be good
at house-keeping and being a good wife and mother. She
could paint a different reality in her mind. She receives a
vision of how life outside her little village can be through
books.

She never realises that vision because, as she

likes to say so eloquently in Swahili: “Hivyo ndivyo maisha
huwa”, meaning: “That’s the way life goes.”

She meets and falls in love with her husband at

the age of 18, is married at 20, and is busy with the
business of building a family and being a good and
supportive wife by the time she is 23 years old. Her
husband is older than her by almost a decade.

Her main base of operations is the house her

husband built when he knew he was ready to take a wife.
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Being a hardworking man, a fisherman by trade, and over
months and months of tireless labour, he manages to
slowly erect the mud structure that would be his marital
home.

The house is on a hill overlooking Lake Victoria. It

is perched on the same plot of land as the home in which
he grew up, about 50 metres above it.

The hill resembles a huge molehill, with small

matching rectangular mud blisters with rusting tin roofs
popping out of its sides and cascading down to its base.

The house is on the east of the hill, the cluttered

side. This way there is guaranteed heat in the home,
especially in the cooler weather, unlike on the shady, less
populated west side of the hill.

There are two bedrooms in the house, with one

positioned on the sunny side. This is the main bedroom.
The other is diagonal to the sunny bedroom. The doors of
both bedrooms lead to the kitchen, which sits diagonal to
the living room.

There is no door between the kitchen and the

living room, except for a fabric curtain, or more recently,
a brown bead curtain to separate the two rooms.

It is in this humble abode that the couple has

their twin daughters three years after getting married.

When the girls are born, Bibi is the proudest

woman in the village. After the long struggle to conceive,
it is the ultimate victory to conceive and carry two
bouncing babies to term. The victory is short-lived
though, when the weaker of the twins dies from
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respiratory problems a few days shy of their fourth
month.

Over time, the pain of the loss of her baby

subsides, but never goes away.

The wounds are reopened when her husband

goes to work one day when Lulu, her surviving daughter,
is seven years old. He never comes back home after his
fishing boat capsizes with everyone on board.

She would raise Lulu alone after the waters that

were their livelihood take him away forever. Her only
comfort is having Lulu.

Slowly her husband’s relatives move away. The

plot of land is divided and a new family moves into the
main house. The landscape of the hill is changing.

*****

Lulu could never find it in her heart to move away from

the only place she’s known as home and the only family
she has ever had.

Even after she marries, she cannot leave home.

She falls in love with Tumo, a boy she has always

known growing up. He is from the same community and
went to the same little village school as her.

At 18, Tumo joins the work force. His family can’t

afford to send him to university, so looking for
employment is the only way forward for him. He works
for the ferry service that runs between Mwanza and
Ukerewe Island, initially as a general worker cleaning and
assisting other staff on the ferry. He works his way up the
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ranks to become one of the operations managers in just a
few years.

By the time he is 24, he and Lulu are ready to

make a commitment to each other. They marry a year
later.

The couple moves into Bibi’s home. Tumo is the

son Bibi never had. They are close and get along
famously.

“So, when can I expect my first grandchild?” Bibi

asks Tumo.

The two are preparing dinner on Saturday

evening. Lulu is outside collecting the clean laundry from
the line.

Tumo laughs.

“Can we take our time, please? We just got

married. I’d like to have a little more money saved up
before we start a family,” he responds.

“One can never prepare enough to have a family.

God will provide where you fall short,” Bibi says.

“I know, but it would make me feel a little more

secure knowing I’ve done as much as I can to be a good
provider for my family,” he says.

He places a pot of rice on the gas stove behind

Bibi then turns around to stand next to her, placing his
arm around her shoulder. His towering height dwarfs her
small frame.

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 Bibi pauses from chopping the vegetables she’s
preparing to steam.

“My daughter is a lucky girl, not many people

think ahead like you,” she says.

He smiles at her.

“Now I feel bad for forcing my expectations on

you like that,” she says.

“You should! How very intrusive of you,” he

jokes.

They chuckle.

He kisses her on the forehead.

“What are you two whispering about?” Lulu says

as she comes back into the house, both arms laden with
laundry.

“We weren’t whispering about anything. Is it a

sin to bond with my mother-in-law?” Tumo leaves Bibi’s
side to approach his wife.

“Let me help you,” he says to her.

He winks at her.

“Thank you,” she blushes, then hands him the

laundry.

He takes the lot to his and Lulu’s bedroom.

“Can I help you with anything, mama?” Lulu asks

Bibi.

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 “We’re done, my dear. Thank you,” she
responds.

*****

Soon the couple is expecting, perhaps sooner

than they had anticipated. But the family is excited about
the new addition. Bibi is beyond happy that her small
family is expanding.

Lulu carries bigger than expected, but her

pregnancy is relatively easy: morning sickness contains
itself to the first few months and swiftly goes away. She
has no real aches and pains, other than a few moments of
discomfort.

Not much in the way of healthcare is accessible

to her, so Bibi is the closest thing to a midwife that she
has.

Tragedy strikes when, eight months into her

pregnancy, an eerily similar and familiar accident renders
Lulu a widow. Tumo’s ferry capsizes with a load full of
tourists, and he too goes to his watery grave. This
incident gains a lot of international media attention
because of the many foreign tourists who met their
deaths in the waters of Tanzania’s Lake Victoria.

The women are shattered by the news of Tumo’s

death, especially so close to the birth of his first child. The
similarities to the death of Bibi’s husband bring up old
feelings from which both women thought they had
healed.

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 Bibi is a pillar of support for her newly widowed
expectant daughter, and she puts aside her own feelings
of loss to be her daughter’s heroine in her time of need.

*****

Lulu’s baby is expected in October, so when it comes, the

consolation in the face of the recent tragedy is welcome.
In the early hours of one of the unbearably hot days of
the month, severe pains wake Lulu. Her screams rouse
her mother.

Bibi walks into Lulu’s bedroom, lit candle in

hand, and turns to the left, towards the location of the
panicked voice behind the screams. She immediately
finds herself out of depth with what is about to happen,
but she has to pretend to be in control for Lulu’s sake.

“Mama, I think the baby is coming now,” Lulu

tells her mother.

“I’m here, we’ll get through this together,” Bibi

replies.

The two women are bewildered by having to

handle the birth by themselves at this hour. Bibi’s delivery
of her own children was not much different, but she had
more people around to assist with the birth and in the
months after.

This time, there is only Bibi and the hot summer

night to receive the baby.

Bibi places the candle on the floor, with the glare

of the flame exaggerating the panic in Lulu’s wide open
eyes. The elongated shadow that forms behind her is like
a heavy cloud lifting over the bed she had slept in, the
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bed she shared with her late husband. This is a cloud she
is oblivious to, at least while focused on the task at hand,
a task she can’t postpone until natural light envelops the
room in the day, or when she feels more ready for
motherhood.

The bed is against the wall furthest from the

door, on the far left of the room. It is a three-quarter size
metal base and mattress, so the room looks larger
because of the size of the bed. The bed’s long side is
placed against the wall, which is how Lulu wanted it to
feel more secure after her husband’s death. The side
where her head goes every night is against the same wall
as the door.

Bibi goes into the kitchen and comes back with

two chairs, placing one on the right end of the bed,
where Lulu’s feet usually go, and the other on the left
behind the door. She places the candle on the chair
closest to the bed and goes back to the kitchen, lights
another candle, secures it with wax in an old tea cup and
uses that candle to navigate her way to her own room to
collect towels and her bathing tub. She grabs the stack of
old clean towels at the bottom of her dresser and puts
them in the tub. She tucks the tub under one arm and
holds the candle in the other.

Bibi leaves the candle on the kitchen table on her

way back to Lulu’s room, her mind rushing with the list of
things that need to be in place.

Lulu’s pain is obvious, even though she is trying

not to scream. She sits on the bed with her bare feet flat
on the floor. She’s in a panic as her mother rushes back
and forth busily.

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 Bibi places the towels on the bed next to Lulu
and the tub on the floor. She rushes back to the kitchen.
On the cabinet, a portable two-plate gas stove sits. She
lifts the pot on the stove and uses the candle on the
kitchen table to light the gas stove. She lifts the bucket of
drinking water from the floor and flings the remaining
water into a big pot they use to boil water.

She runs as fast as an old woman can to check

on Lulu. She looks like she is trying to keep the baby from
coming out by clenching her thighs closed, knees tight
and feet firmly pushing against the mud floor. Her hands
firmly grasp the bed’s edge.

She makes as little noise as possible, an effort

she abandons as soon as she sees her mother enter the
room. With teeth gritted and eyes narrowed to slits, she
lets out a cry resembling the piercing sound of air
escaping from a balloon with a pinched neck, only
stopping when she runs out of breath. The sound is sharp
and long and makes Bibi wince, an expression Lulu
doesn’t miss, or appreciate.

“I’m in labour, okay. You don’t have to look like

you’re the one in pain,” she explodes at her mother in a
roaring voice much deeper than her pinched balloon cry.

Bibi silently walks out of the room, goes back to

her own room and yanks the bedding off her bed. She
goes back to the labour room and throws the bedding on
the floor, bedspread on the bottom, a small blanket in
the middle and the flat sheet on top.

She takes one of the pillows off Lulu’s bed and

places it closest to her feet on the floor.

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 She helps Lulu off the bed and onto the padded
floor. The miserable old pillow supporting her head is
nothing more than a flat remnant of its fluffy past self,
having been used and abused for years.

Once Lulu is comfortable, Bibi helps her out of

the night dress and underwear she has on and puts the
sheet she takes off Lulu’s bed over her.

She hurries back into the kitchen to check on the

heating water, which is almost ready. She takes the water
bucket and goes out of the back door to collect fresh
water from the tap outside the house, which stands
against the wall outside the kitchen.

She goes back into the house and pours half the
bucket’s contents into the tub behind Lulu’s bedroom
door, placing the other half in the bucket under the chair.

She checks on Lulu and positions her with legs

apart and ready to deliver. At this point Lulu does not
care to contain her pain and lets out a roar every time she
feels a contraction. Bibi holds her hand until the
contraction passes.

Once peace is restored, Bibi realises the lighting

is insufficient and gets two more candles from the
drawer, securing each in a cup. She figures this is the last
chance for her to finish preparing, and she does not want
to forget to switch off the gas once the excitement really
starts. After shutting off the small gas canister for the
stove, she grabs the two candles and goes back into
Lulu’s room.

“I think it’s time mama, or I really need the

toilet,” a scared-looking Lulu says in a childlike voice. Bibi
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places one of the candles on the chair behind the door.
The second candle she places on the floor close to Lulu’s
left leg.

Lulu starts crying and her mother can’t help but

switch off her “strong pillar” mode to be her comforter
for a moment. After the meltdown subsides, Bibi takes
the towels and another flat excuse for a pillow off the
bed, which she places between Lulu’s legs so she can
kneel. The towels go on the floor beside the candle.

With one check, Bibi sees the baby’s head

crowning, and is taken aback by what she thinks she is
seeing. But she doesn’t want to alarm Lulu, so she
switches back to “strong pillar” mode.

“I think it’s time to push. Take your time. I’ll tell

you when it’s time to push the baby out,” Bibi says in as
comforting a voice as possible.

“Okay,” responds Lulu.

Bibi takes a few deep breaths, and then says:

“Give me one big push. The head needs to come out.”

Lulu pushes with everything she has, and the

baby’s head slowly makes its way out, leaving Bibi’s eyes
wide open.

After a moment she comes back to her senses.

“I need another big push. Are you ready?” she

says, holding the baby’s head.

Lulu doesn’t wait for the instruction and just

pushes. The baby doesn’t move and she soon abandons
the attempt. After a few seconds of rest she is ready for
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what may be her strongest push yet. The baby’s
shoulders emerge and Bibi pulls the baby out. She uses
her right index finger to reach into the baby’s mouth to
clear the baby’s throat, then announces: “A little boy.
He’s beautiful.”

As if the boy had heard the announcement of his

arrival, he lets out the screechiest scream his little lungs
can muster.

Bibi wraps him in one of the towels, and then

realises that she had nothing ready to cut the umbilical
cord. She carefully places the baby on the floor.

“Keep still,” she warns Lulu while she goes into

the kitchen to fetch a pair of scissors from the utensil
drawer in the counter close to the back door.

Once back in the room, she holds the cord for a

moment while trying to figure out where and what the
correct way to cut it is. Her hesitation makes her go back
to the kitchen despite the baby’s continued cries, first
telling Lulu: “Don’t move.”

She gets a clothes peg from the drawer with the

candles and rushes back without closing the drawer.

She pinches the cord a few centimetres from the

baby and makes her cut between the peg and Lulu.

After snipping the baby loose from his mother,

she wipes him clean with the dry towel in which he is
wrapped and swaddles him with a clean towel, covering
his head.

She places him at Lulu’s right foot, which takes

Lulu by surprise.
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 “Can I hold him, mama?” asks Lulu.

“Not yet, baby. We have to finish here first. We

have to get the afterbirth out, then you can hold him,”
she replies.

It has been a few minutes since the baby came

out and Lulu is excited to bond with her baby.

“Okay,” Lulu replies, sensing something is a little

off with her mother. She isn’t sure if it’s because her
mother is overwhelmed by the moment or something
else, but her mother is definitely not herself.

Bibi spreads the towel she used to clean the

baby on the floor, ready to collect the afterbirth.

Bibi’s eyes pop wide open, and she immediately

grabs a clean towel from the pile on her right.

A second head is crowning and she debates in

her head whether or not to update Lulu about what is
about to happen between her legs.

“What is it?” Lulu demands to know when she

sees the saucer eyes on her mother’s face.

The decision was made for her. She will have to

divulge the surprise her daughter is receiving. One of the
surprises.

“It looks like you’re having twins. I think it’s two

babies, and not more?” Bibi says with a bewildered look.

“What?” Lulu almost screams.

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 Bibi gives her a soft nod and says: “You have to
push now, let’s get the baby out.”

The two have almost forgotten about the first

born, who seems comfortable in his cocoon beside all the
action.

Lulu pushes and the head is out. The shoulders

come out with another few pushes, a much easier task
this time around.

“Good job. He’s out,” says a delighted Bibi.

“Another boy?” asks Lulu.

“It’s a blessing. The Masalus are truly blessed

today,” says Bibi.

Lulu is very tired, but there is the delayed

expulsion of the afterbirth still to be done.

Lulu quickly undertakes the same routine to clear

the baby’s airway, clean and detach him from his mother.

The baby’s cry is a little softer than the

firstborn’s, but just as piercing.

She places him beside his brother and instructs

Lulu that it’s time to get the afterbirth out.

Despite her lack of energy, Lulu has no choice

but to let her mother take out the afterbirth. She takes a
few minutes to pull it out while trying her best to be
gentle. Lulu clenches her teeth to stop herself from
screaming. Lulu places it onto the towel she had placed
on the floor. After cleaning Lulu a little, Bibi begins
cleaning up around them.

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 It is still pitch black outside and the first candle lit
is now half of what it was. The two women do not think
to check what time it is, just like they didn’t when the first
boy was born, nor the second. This is despite the fact that
Lulu is inseparable from the wristwatch her husband left
behind. She keeps it in good working order, but keeps it
buried under her other belongings in the dresser.

Bibi finishes cleaning around the bed and helps

Lulu to recline in a more comfortable position before
handing her the babies.

She picks up the first baby and hands him to

Lulu, then the second. Her mouth gapes wider and wider
as she receives her swaddled babies in each arm. Both
women are silent throughout this seemingly ceremonial
handover from grandmother to new mother.

Bibi then goes back to her pile of mess lying at

Lulu’s feet and carries it out of the room.

*****

Bibi comes back with the pot of hot water and a white
short-sleeved vest from her bedroom. She puts the pot
on the floor, then tears the vest in half, takes the tub with
the cold water off the chair and places it on the floor.

She pours half the hot water from the pot into
the tub. She takes the baby from Lulu’s right arm, lays
him down on the bedding and unwraps him from his
warmth. The boy lets out a little cry.

She wets the soft wash cloth she made from the
vest, wrings it out and begins cleaning the baby from
head to toe, rinsing the cloth in tub beside her. The cry
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becomes a little louder, but is still in the ‘inside voice’
realm. The slight massage and soft cloth seem to soothe
the baby.

Both Lulu and Bibi are silent, except for the

occasional coo Bibi gives the baby she is bathing.

Lulu has a few items ready for the one baby she
was expecting to arrive, so Bibi opens a new pack of cloth
nappies and wraps the baby.

She gets another clean towel and wraps the

baby afresh, then hands him over to his still stupefied
mother.

She takes the second baby from her and repeats

the process, not changing the water she had washed the
first baby in, and then hands him over when she is done.
She wonders what to do next: is Lulu comfortable or in
pain, does she need to sleep or bond with the babies?

Rather than address anything with the new

mother, she gathers her bathing tools and heads for the
kitchen. Lulu is still sitting on the floor, dumbstruck.

*****

After emptying the tub, clearing up the buckets and

cleaning the mess around Lulu, Bibi takes a break on her
one-seater couch in the kitchen. She takes about 5
minutes away from her new bigger family, one that is
now a balance between males and females.

Her peace is disturbed when Lulu calls her back

into the room. She slowly gets up and walks back.

“Mama, they are albino!” Lulu exclaims.

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 “Yes baby, they are beautiful light-skinned
babies,” is Bibi’s response. She is over her initial shock.

She lowers herself to Lulu’s level.

“No, mother. Albino! Not light-skinned, white

skin!” she snaps at her mother.

“I can’t be a mother to albino children, I

wouldn’t know how to keep them alive and safe in this
place,” she continues, looking at her mother as if
expecting an answer.

But Bibi draws a blank, more towards her

daughter’s reaction to her own children than the
question of their future.

“It is not the time to talk or worry about that.

We have time to figure that out. Right now the boys need
some nurturing, and names,” she responds, lowering
herself to kneel at Lulu’s eye level.

“I know we thought only one baby was on the

way. Did you have any names in mind?” she asks Lulu,
pasting a forced smile on her face to try to change Lulu’s
attitude for the better.

“Safi. Tumo wanted the name Safi if it’s a boy.

He loved the idea of how pure people are when they are
born,” she replies.

“That’s a beautiful name,” Bibi says.

Staring straight at her mother, she says coldly:

“Asani can be the second baby’s name.”

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 “Lulu, both babies are healthy and happy and a
big blessing for both of us. We had no men in this family
until now. God gave us two at one time. Let’s put more
thought into the name for the second baby, one as
beautiful as Safi,” Bibi offers motherly advice to her
evidently unhappy daughter.

“His name is Asani. I don’t need to think of it any

more than I already have,” she says with finality in her
tone.

“Rebellion? Why? Are you rebelling against your

children? These children are yours and Tumo’s, and we
both know he would be a proud and loving father to
them if he was here. You’re going to have to be both
mother and father to them,” warns Bibi with no
tenderness in her voice.

The sun is starting to make an entrance on the

horizon.

Bibi balances her left hand on her left knee and

uses the right hand to push herself off the ground. Her
body is now feeling the strain of the night’s work. She
slowly turns around to make her way to the window
behind her, draws only the left side of the dark green
double curtain so the sun won’t be too harsh as it rises.

“We need to feed and clothe them before you

can rest,” Bibi says as she turns back towards Lulu.

Her first task is to blow out all the candles in the

room. She then bends over on Lulu’s left side and takes
one of the babies.

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 After setting her little swaddled brand new
grandson on the bed, she hops over Lulu to the other
side and takes the second baby, walking around Lulu with
the baby to place him next to his brother.

“Now, let’s get you off the ground. Move a little

forward so I can help you up,” she says to Lulu.

With the sheet loosely draped on the front side

of her body, Lulu holds it to her body with one arm as she
tilts forward. She uses the other arm to lift herself off the
floor. Bibi shuffles her way between the bed and Lulu and
slides her hands under Lulu’s arms and makes a sorry
attempt to help her up, but Lulu does her own heavy
lifting.

After Bibi steps aside, Lulu reaches for her pink

morning gown hanging on a nail on the wall on her right
side. She changes from sheet to gown for better comfort
before getting into bed.

In the meantime, Bibi picks up the flat pillows

and puts them on the bed.

She then picks the boys back up off the bed to

give them back to Lulu once she is in bed and ready to
receive them. She places one baby in the bed against the
wall and waits for Lulu to position herself correctly to
breastfeed the other.

Lulu gets into bed and Bibi places the baby in her
right arm. She struggles for a minute to get comfortable
trying to sit after the birth, her back perched against the
wall behind her. She reluctantly opens the right side of
her gown to expose the breast to feed her new baby. Bibi
gets closer to her and helps her position the baby’s head
28
while she struggles to place the nipple in his mouth. After
the baby finally latches on, they both sigh - Bibi out of
relief, and Lulu from the weight on her shoulders.

In that moment, she feels so lonely, possibly

lonelier than when she received the news that her
husband had died. At the time she at least found solace in
knowing she was carrying a part of him inside of her, and
she would see her husband in their child even years from
now.

But now, in addition to not having her husband

beside her, heaviness overshadows her joy. The cloud
over her for mothering albino children is suppressing any
love she may have had for them.

She knows she can’t be the mother the boys

need, nor does she want to be. Not in the community
they live in, not with the stories she heard growing up
that made her fearful of any association with albino
people. Not for any luck that came with that association –
good or bad.

She has no desire to carry the stigma herself, or

help her sons deal with it for the rest of her life.

*****

“I wish Tumo was here with me. I don’t know

how to do this alone,” Lulu confides in her mother.

“But you’re not alone. I’m here with you. I’m

here for you and the twins,” Bibi reassures her.

It’s been a week since the birth and there’s a

feeling of slight dejection in the house.

29
 Asani and Safi are securely swaddled and asleep
next their mother.

“You probably need a little more sleep. I know

being a new mother is a shock, especially with an
additional baby you were not expecting. But you are
already a great mother,” Bibi lies to her daughter despite
both of them knowing that Lulu would rather not be in
this position.

A knock interrupts them.

“I asked Omary to get a few things for us and

bring them over after work. That’s probably him,” Bibi
says.

She gets up from the foot of her daughter’s bed

and heads to the kitchen.

“How are you, Omary,” she says even before she

has fully opened the door to let him in.

Omary Chiza is one of the family’s trusted

neighbours. He treats Bibi like a mother.

“I’m well, thank you, Bibi. How are you?” he says.

“I’m well, thank you.”

He comes in and puts two plastic bags full of

groceries on the table.

“How are the twins?” he asks her.

“They are beautiful. I can’t wait to see them a

little rounder. They feed very well,” she says like a proud
grandmother.

30
 “How’s Lulu doing?” he knows she hasn’t taken
to motherhood with ease.

“She’s coming along. It will get better.”

Lulu can hear the conversation.

Even she’s not convinced by Bibi’s hopefulness.

*****

The weeks following the birth are long and

unbearable for Lulu. She is not bonding with her new
sons. At best, she’s lacklustre in caring for them.

Bibi steps in, almost too much. This gives Lulu an

out and she takes it. She is disgusted at the sight of her
own children when she is forced to have them latching on
her breasts for a feeding.

She checks out emotionally, mentally, and

physically. As the days roll by, she takes longer and longer
afternoon walks on her breaks out of the house.

Bibi sees this but says nothing.

She just carries on picking up Lulu’s slack.

Breastfeeding the twins seems as far as Lulu is prepared
to go in taking care of them, and only because her
mother can’t.

The afternoon walks are then supplemented

with morning walks.

The cold distance between the people living in

the Masalu household is almost tangible, with fewer and
31
fewer words exchanged between the women, and a
deeper and deeper downheartedness shown by Lulu.

32
 No looking back

Lulu’s mind is in turmoil. She cannot accept the cards that

she has been dealt. She knows her future is doomed if
she stays.

Her heart struggles to find the love nature tells her she
should have for her children.

Life has not been easy since Tumo died. And now I
know I’m cursed.

I cannot escape the curse unless I get rid of them.

But my mother would never allow it. Our lives will remain
unlucky because of them, because of the dark cloud they
have brought over this house.

The curse in their ghostly skins means a lifetime of

bad luck, doubled.

33
 I cannot be a mother to zeru-zeru, or I will live an
eternally cursed life

*****

When Lulu leaves, Bibi hopes it is because she needs time

to get her head together.

She leaves in the early hours of a Thursday

morning before the sun is up. Bibi hears the door closing
behind her as she makes her exit.

Bibi knows this is different from the other times

she has left the house. The time of day is definitely
telling.

The long walk out of the house she’s known as

home and down the hill on which it sits is both anxious
and sad.

She is anxious to get away from the heaviness

now living in that house and to start afresh.

The sadness is because not until then did she

ever imagine leaving her family behind. She’s sad because
the children she and Tumo pictured were something else
in reality.

She is sad because her elderly mother would

now have to fend not only for herself, but for her
grandchildren as well.

The anxiety wins over the sadness. It has to.

Otherwise she would have to find the courage to stay.
She wants out more than she’s willing to sacrifice the rest
of her life for everyone left in that house.

34
 *****

Her departure from Mwanza means a chance of a new

life for her. A life that does not involve the stigma and
bad luck she has escaped. A life where her children are
not a source of anxiety and a lifetime of continuous
panic.

She relishes the opportunity, more than she

regrets her actions in abandoning her mother and her
babies.

She wouldn’t survive the walk to the bus station

with her heavy luggage, so the sight of a pikipiki at the
end of the last street down the hill is welcome relief. She
is surprised to see one operating at that time of the
morning. Or maybe she just got lucky.

“Morning sir, I’m going to the bus station,” she

says with a smile.

He’s leaning on his parked bike. He has a

cigarette in his mouth and a small red lighter in his hand,
like he had just pulled in out of his pocket.

“Sure, that will be 2,000 shillings,” the driver of

the little red and black motorbike responds.

He takes the cigarette out of his mouth with the

hand holding the lighter and places it into his black
leather jacket. The openings of the pockets are all but
exposed fabric underneath the fake leather from wear
and tear. The collar is not much better.

“I’m a little strapped for money. Can you do

half?”

35
 “I don’t really negotiate. We measure distance.”

“Please sir, it’s really early. You’ll be back in no

time to catch the morning commuters. Think of this as a
bonus ride,” she’s trying her hardest to charm her way to
the bargain price.

He stands and takes the suitcase from her, then

places it on the seat of the bike, balancing it with his right
forearm so it doesn’t fall off.

“You have a big, heavy case, which I should also

charge you for since you’ll have to put it on the bike, but
I’ll only charge you for one person.”

Clearly my charm isn’t working

“Fine,” she sounds annoyed that he didn’t bite.

He gestures to her with the free hand to hop on

behind her luggage.

She’s wearing a black knee-length dress. This is

awkward for her.

She obeys and straddles the back of the bike.

The skirt of her dress rides up, exposing most of her
thighs.

“Hold on to the case with one hand, and on the

silver bar behind you with the other one so you don’t fall
off the bike,” he says with a grin. He can see she’s a little
ticked off at him. He doesn’t care.

The ride is bumpy but gets her to the station in a

few minutes.

36
 She knows she was uncomfortable, but only
really realises how uncomfortable when her aching bum
goes into spasm as she gets off the bike. The pause she
takes to get over the pain is enough to give the pikipiki
driver time to get her suitcase down.

She reaches into her bra to take out the fare.

“Don’t worry about it. Think of it as a gift from

me. I hope the rest of your trip gets better,” he says.

Her mouth is open with surprise.

He leaves her standing there and gets back on

his bike without taking her money, starts the bike and
goes back in the direction they came from.

Ha! There is a god!

“It’s almost the end of yet another year.

Anything to look forward to in 1996? Give us a call and
share your ideas of the best ways to mark the end 1995.
076 456 234. This is Radio Swahili – bringing Tanzanians
from all walks of life together,” says the voice on the loud
radio in the nearby taxi.

The DJ almost affirms Lulu’s transition into a new

life as she lugs her suitcase past the run-down red and
white metered taxi parked close to the entrance of the
station building.

*****

The Nyegezi Bus Terminal is buzzing, as if it was not night

time just a few hours ago.

37
 Lulu is feeling a little like fish out of water. Like
she’s experiencing life for the very first time.

She has never really gone anywhere, but she

thought she was at least aware that other people went
places.

So when the man running to catch a bus nearly

mows her down with his suitcase, and the lady with the
crying toddler struggles to keep everything she’s carrying
from falling, including the loud boy, she gets a rude
awakening that she’s really been living under a rock this
whole time.

Her walk to the ticket booth terrifies and excites

her at the same time.

She looks at the list of destinations on the wall

and realises she has no idea where she’s heading.

The list repeats Dar es Salaam every now and

then, indicating to her that this is the destination of
choice for many travellers.

So it becomes the destination of her choice.

The queue is not very long, but it gives her

enough time to cement the decision in her mind to go to
Dar es Salaam, even though she knows no one there, or
what she’s going to do there.

“Next,” a soft male voice behind the glass

shouts. The glass is so thick that the shouting is muffled
and carries only as far as the first two people in the front
of the queue.

38
 Lulu has enough money for maybe two meals
once she empties the black fabric pouch to buy the one-
way ticket.

The ticket is for a bus departing at 6am, giving

her enough time to make her way around this unfamiliar
maze.

She boards a bus to Dar es Salaam, her blank

slate to the future.

The bus is old and a dirty grey colour. It seats

about thirty people and resembles the junk yard version
of an old school bus.

Lulu is among the first to get in. The seemingly

polite driver gives her a demure nod as she presents her
ticket to him. He seems in no mood to make eye contact
with her, let alone small talk, which suits her fine. She
decides he must not be keen on real contact with the
hundreds of people he transports because it is simply too
much exhausting effort. He is in his khaki uniform, in his
seat, ready to get the long trip started.

She chooses a window seat in the third last row

on the left of the bus. She places her suitcase on the
silver steel rack above her head before taking her seat.

She chooses the sunny side with the thinking

that the sun will be on the opposite side once the bus
turns around from its parking position toward the
direction of Dar, a name she picks up from the other
travellers at the station.

She pays no mind to the people entering the bus.

She drifts to what may be happening at home now as she
39
stares out of her window: Bibi must be awake and aware
that she is gone. She must have seen her belongings are
gone. What should be her most valuable possessions are
sleeping alone in the bed, abandoned two months after
their birth.

A short, chunky man in a black suit and soft

yellow shirt disturbs her out of the imaginary scene in her
head as he brushes against the two aisle seats on his way
to the back of the bus.

She gives him a quick glance but doesn’t pay him

or her surroundings any more attention.

She turns again to look outside her window, this

time directing her thoughts towards where she is
headed. She draws a blank because she can’t imagine
what life lies ahead for her. She doesn’t know what her
new town is like, or who she will meet there.

The bus engine starts and she looks up to see

what is happening. Only seventeen other people are in
the bus with her: the bus driver, the chunky man in black
and yellow at the back, a woman and three children Lulu
assumes are hers are seated two rows in front of her.
Another six women are scattered closer to the door. An
old man wearing a grey hat is directly behind the driver.
His hat is almost floating on top of his thick greying hair.
That is all of the old man Lulu can see. The rest of his
body is hidden by the seat – he must be short.

Three young guys are seated around her.

The driver puts the bus into gear and pulls off. A
surprising sense of relief washes over Lulu and she
40
realises then, without any regret, that there is no going
back.

One of the ladies sitting towards the front of the

bus is about Lulu’s age. She is the outgoing type, looking
around the bus at the other passengers, perhaps to make
a friend for company on the long trip to Dar.

She spots Lulu, who is trying to avoid eye

contact with her by looking out of the window.

The outgoing stranger gets up from her seat and

starts making her way to the back of the bus, toward
Lulu. She is in dark blue jeans and a pink tracksuit top
zipped all the way up. Her sneakers have seen better
days, but their black colour makes their long-suffering
less obvious.

She reaches the third row from the back and

looks directly at Lulu.

“Hi, I’m Sanaa Kuya. Can I sit with you for a little
while?” she says with a huge smile.

Her teeth are the whitest Lulu has ever seen. She
has to make an effort to pry her eyes away from Sanaa’s
mouth to focus on her eyes.

“I’m Lulu, please sit,” she responds, more out of

politeness than actually wanting company.

“Thank you,” Sanaa says as she takes the seat

next to Lulu.

“How are you?” she asks Lulu.

41
 “I’m fine, thank you. How are you?” Lulu says
with forced enthusiasm.

“I just wanted to say hi and introduce myself. We

have a long trip ahead of us and it’s good to have
someone to talk to,” Sanaa says.

Oh crap!

Shoot, I hope I didn’t say that out loud!

“I’ll come back or you can come join me a little

later if you like. I’m just going to settle in and maybe take
a nap,” Sanaa continues.

“Oh, okay,” says a relieved Lulu.

Sanaa heads back to her seat as boldly as she

came to Lulu’s seat.

*****

The trip in the rickety bus is taking long and testing Lulu’s
patience in the process. There are four fifteen minute
breaks in the bigger towns along the way.

In Dodoma, the driver swaps with the night

driver to complete the last few hours of the trip.

Sanaa can sense hesitation from Lulu to make

conversation with a stranger.

But the trip is almost over. Lulu doesn’t know

that.

A while after everyone has settled back in the

bus, Sanaa gets up to go to Lulu, who has mastered the
42
art of pretend-sleeping so nobody bothers her and is now
practicing it.

“I know you’re not sleeping,” Sanaa interrupts

Lulu’s pretend-nap.

Lulu slowly opens her left eye and meets Lulu’s

grin and staring eyes.

The two women exchange a small giggle as

Sanaa takes a seat.

“Don’t worry, we have less than an hour until we

get to Dar,” Sanaa says.

“Do we really have less than an hour left? That’s

good,” says Lulu, sitting up straight.

“Yes, and I won’t take up too much of your

time,” Sanna says.

“No, it’s no bother. I didn’t mean to be rude not

talking with you through the trip. I’m just anxious about
where I’m going and what to expect when I get there,”
Lulu explains.

“Is no one meeting you at the bus station?”

Sanaa asks.

“I don’t know anyone in Dar es Salaam. I don’t

even know where I’m going when I get there,” says Lulu.
Saying it out loud makes her realise how hopeless her
situation really is.

“What is your plan when you get there?” asks

Sanaa.

43
 “I have no plan. I have very little money. I’ll have
to see when I get there,” says Lulu.

“I’ll tell you what, it’s already quite late. Let me

help you with a place to sleep tonight and you can worry
about the rest tomorrow,” says Sanaa.

“You would do that?” asks Lulu.

“Look, we both come from the same end of the

country and are going in the same direction. The least I
can do is help someone I hope is a new friend, even if it’s
only for one night,” says Sanaa.

“I can’t refuse your offer because I really didn’t

know what I was going to do,” says an excited Lulu.

“Now you have a place to stay the night,” says

Sanaa.

“I don’t know how I’ll be able to thank you,”

says Lulu.

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s reconnect when the

bus stops,” says Sanaa, giving Lulu a wink before getting
up to walk back to her seat.

Everything is falling into place. Maybe I’m really

meant to do this.

*****

It’s the middle of December and Dar es Salaam’s social

scene is at its liveliest.

Sanaa had timed her travel perfectly to be back

for the social event of the year.

44
 The who’s who of Dar society is expected to turn
out for the Children’s Home fundraising dinner happening
the night after Sanaa and Lulu arrive in town.

The home houses abandoned and orphaned

children from all over the country, helping them with
their schooling and making sure they are adopted into
good families.

A lot of money goes into putting the event

together so that a lot people with money can have a
good enough time to make generous donations for the
home.

As much as Lulu tries, she does not convince

Sanaa that not only is she too tired for such an outing,
she has nothing to wear. Her life back home was hardly
one of glitz and glamour.

It seems she is in good company though.

“First thing you have to learn about this town,

Lulu, is that we are all here to make money and to make
something of ourselves. People don’t leave their homes
and their families and come all this way to stay indoors
while things are happening outside those doors,” Sanaa
tells Lulu.

“Sanaa, I just got here. I don’t even know what I

want to do with my life here. I just need to get my mind
ready and then see what’s out there for me,” responds
Lulu.

“Well, you are going to do it the other way

around. You are going to see what’s out there and then
get your mind to catch up. Not many people are this
45
fortunate, Lulu. We all get here with no place to sleep, let
alone have someone willing to show us the ropes. And
mine are good ropes,” says Sanaa.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m offering you a ticket into one of the best

events of the year in this town, where you’ll be mixing
with powerful, beautiful and rich people. You are a pretty
girl, at best I expect that you will find yourself a nice
husband and then you won’t need a job,” says Sanaa
while she surveys Lulu’s face before they go to bed after
the trip to see how best to make the most of her
features.

“What are you talking about?” Lulu asks naively.

“What I mean is that we have a whole day to get

ready and pretty for tomorrow night’s event. I have
previously landed a job or two from people I met there.
Nothing as permanent as I had hoped, but I had food and
a roof over my head as a result. What I was really hoping
for was to land a rich husband so I don’t need a job,” says
Sanaa.

Lulu is paying attention.

“Once we get there, you need to play the game

because all the other single women will be playing the
same game. If you are not interested, it will show, and
that’s not good,” says Sanaa.

“Sanaa, I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” Lulu

says nervously when she realises her new fairy
godmother means serious business.

46
 “Honey, you were ready the moment you got on
that bus looking for a better life. The only guarantee you
have is a place to sleep tonight. What’s your plan for
tomorrow night? Or the night after that? You’re tired.
We’ve had a long trip. Tomorrow you’ll see the sense in
what I’m saying to you,” Sanaa reassures her.

*****

Nerves and anxiety make for a sleepless night for Lulu.

That, and the fact that her sleeping partner snores like
the Suzuki pikipiki she rode to the bus station in Mwanza.

Who would have guessed that such noises could

come out of a girl as put-together and personable as
Sanaa?

*****

Lulu is woken by bright light coming in through the

window. There’s an open slither in the middle of the
double dark blue curtain that guides the sun right to her
face.

Where am I? When did I fall asleep?

She takes a few moments to get out of her

disorientation while ducking the sun, then realises her
sleep buddy is gone.

She stays in bed not knowing what to do with

herself.

*****

47
“Rise and shine sleepy head,” Sanaa cheerfully says,
standing over Lulu. She had dozed off again while waiting
for Sanaa to come back from wherever she went.

“What time is it?” asks Lulu.

“It’s time for you to get up and have breakfast

before it gets cold. We have a busy day ahead of us,”
Sanaa responds as she walks back to the kitchen table.

Lulu sits up in bed and sees two hangers on the

door handle of the dresser in front of her.

“What is that?” she asks Sanaa.

“What?” Sanaa turns around from her breakfast

duty to look at what Lulu is referring to.

“That,” she points to the two hangers with long

white plastic bags over them.

“Oh, those are our dresses for tonight. They

were at the dry cleaners so I went to pick them up
because I knew the day would be too busy to get them
later,” Sanaa says, and then sticks a piece of bread in her
mouth.

“Okay,” Lulu says.

“Come eat something and then we’ll have a look

at the dresses. We’re about the same size so either one
should fit you,” says Sanaa.

Lulu gets up and heads to the kitchen of the

bachelor flat. She’s wearing a scarf on her head and an
oversized white T-shirt that used to be her husband’s
before she made it sleepwear.

48
 “This looks lovely,” she says directing her smile
more towards the spread on the table than at her new
friend.

“We didn’t eat last night and I’m starving,” says

Sanaa.

Her plate is laden with scrambled eggs, bacon,

tomato slices and two slices of white bread.

“Let me freshen up. I’ll be right back,” Lulu

heads to the bathroom.

She sees Sanaa’s handbag on the couch next to

her luggage as she takes her toothbrush out. A piece of
paper is sticking out of the side pocket of the little black
leather bag. Without thinking, she pulls out the piece of
paper and looks at it.

$500 for two new evening dresses? Where does

she get that kind of money from?

Sanna is too distracted at the fridge to notice.

Lulu puts the piece of paper back quickly and

says nothing.

*****

“Have you ever worn makeup before?” Sanaa asks as she

brushes the way-too-pink blush onto Lulu’s left cheek.
She asks because Lulu is scrunching her face as the
bristles stab her face, a feeling she isn’t familiar with.

“Can’t you tell?” Lulu says sarcastically.

49
 “Well, you will learn and fast. This town and the
life you’re getting ready to enter require that of you,”
says Sanaa.

Lulu wonders what that means. She certainly has

no idea where her life is going. How can Sanaa?

“You’re all done. Now it’s my turn. You get into

your dress, the red one, while I do my makeup. The car
should be here in 30 minutes to pick us up. By the way,
you’ll have to raid the dresser for shoes that match. I
hope they fit,” Sanaa continues.

“We have a car picking us up?” Lulu asks.

“You don’t think we’re going through all this

effort to look good to then hail a taxi and show up at the
event of the year possibly smelling of petrol from an old
car that shouldn’t even be on the road? I don’t think so,”
Sanaa says.

“Alright, then!” Lulu is surprised by Sanaa’s

passion.

*****

The Town Hall is beautifully decorated outside. The white

colour and the regal design is emphasised by the special
lighting.

The inside promises to be even better, especially

accessorised with all the beautiful people flaunting their
riches.

The cars pulling up are nothing like Lulu has ever

seen, especially not all in the same place at the same
time.
50
 The poise and glamour of the occupants of those
cars are hypnotic to her, certainly things she can get used
to.

Their sleek black Mercedes Benz S Class stops in

front of the main entrance and a tall man in a black and
white suit and tie and a black top hat opens the back
door to let Sanaa out. Lulu follows her.

She wobbles as she tries to keep up with Sanaa

in the black high heels she’s wearing.

Why did I choose these painful pointy shoes?

The few stairs going up to the building’s main

door look insurmountable.

It is the beginning of the evening but she is

already in pain. The long dress that looks fit to be worn
by Miss Tanzania herself is not kind to a shapely girl’s
figure like Lulu’s, especially considering she’s a new
mother.

She’s self-conscious about possible spillage on

the cleavage end of the dress, while sucking in her
stomach so much that she feels like she may soon
collapse from lack of oxygen due to her shallow
breathing.

Couple that with trying to stay up on high shoes

that are so steep that the balls of her feet feel blistery,
and she has the makings of a physically torturous
evening.

The crowd is slowly making its way into the

building between the air kisses and pretentious hugs.

51
 Lulu finds the ladies’ room as soon as she’s
inside.

The room is surprisingly busy, a lot of ladies

checking their hair, adjusting their dresses and fixing their
makeup.

She goes into one of the stalls and sits on the

closed toilet. She rolls bits of toilet paper to cushion her
toes inside the shoes.

Aah, that’s better.

*****

The inside of the City Hall is a wonderland to Lulu. She

missed the splendour upon entry because of the painful
shoes and because she has spent more time in the
bathroom since arriving than mingling.

The flowers are out of this world. The

arrangements are high, big and over the top. The
different flowers in the arrangements are all white:
carnations, lilies, roses and a whole lot of other kinds Lulu
has never see before.

The bar has so many different kinds of alcohol,

and so much of each kind that every person there could
have several bottles of whatever their poison is and still
leave more for an after party.

There must be at least 400 people there, and all

looking like they stepped out of a glamour magazine,
looking and smelling like money.

Even her untrained eye can make out the women

who are there to do what she and Sanaa are there to do.
52
The ones who get attention from any rich-looking
tuxedo-wearing guy with no date cling onto him like lint
for fear of having competition snatch him away from
them.

Sanaa is engrossed in a conversation with a man

when Lulu comes out of the bathroom. Across the
reception area, past lots of other glitzy people and their
glitzy cocktails, she sees the man hand Sanaa a thick
white envelope, which she tucks into her gold clutch bag.

Lulu walks across to them, making sure she stays

as unseen as possible because she feels out of place. The
people there speak loudly and have exaggerated
mannerisms to show how pleased they are to be there.
That’s far from how Lulu feels.

Sanaa spots her a few steps before she reaches

them.

“Ah, there you are,” she extends her arm,

inviting Lulu to join them.

“Good evening, ma’am,” the man says to Lulu,

and offers her a handshake.

“Evening, sir. I’m Laila,” responds Lulu.

Sanaa’s brows shoot up in surprise and she tries

to conceal it with a smile as the two new acquaintances
shake hands with their eyes glued to each other.

Lulu notices the man’s perfect dark skin. He’s a

tall guy, well-built and impeccably dressed in a black
tuxedo and bowtie and crisp white shirt.

53
 His voice is deep and silky and he speaks with
confidence.

“I’m Michael Chana. It’s lovely to meet you,

Laila,” he says.

“Nice to meet you too, Mr Chana,” she says.

“Please, call me Michael.”

“Nice to meet you, Michael,” she says with a big

smile.

“Can I get you ladies something to drink?” he

asks, finally giving Sanaa some eye contact.

“Yes, thank you. We’ll have apple martinis,”

responds Sanaa.

Lulu flashes a smile in agreement.

“I’ll be right back,” he says.

As soon as the man turns his back on them Sanaa

gives Lulu a curious look.

“We are Laila now?” she says.

“Yes, we are,” Lulu responds with a sly smile.

“Since when?”

“Since a very handsome man asked. Since I came

here for a new life and I’m going to do that with a new
name and identity,” she says.

“Well, nice to meet you, Laila,” Sanna says with a

handshake.

54
 Just then Michael comes back with martinis in
hand.

“There you go, ladies,” he hands them the

drinks.

“Thank you,” they say in unison.

“I’m just going to get my drink, I’ll be right

back,” he says.

Laila pretends to take a sip and sticks the tip of

her tongue in the glass to taste whatever this drink Sanaa
is making her drink is.

“So you think he’s handsome, ha?” Sanaa asks

Laila.

“Don’t you?” she responds, as if surprised that

Sanaa does not see the beauty on the man’s face.

“Yes, but I don’t know what kind of guy you

like,” Sanaa says.

“I said he’s handsome, not that I liked him,” she

says.

“I know you didn’t, but Laila definitely likes him,”

Sanaa says and takes a big sip of her drink.

*****

“Come to dinner with me,” a confident Michael says to

Laila.

“I’ve only just met you, and I’ve just arrived in

Dar, I can’t go out with you right now,” Laila says.

55
 She’s forgotten her earlier discomfort now that
she’s concentrating on Michael.

“That is not a ‘no’. I’ll wait for you. Give me your

number so I can get in touch,” he persists.

“I don’t have a phone yet,” she responds.

He takes a small sleek black phone out of the

inside pocket of his jacket and hands it to her.

“I’ll tell you what, you take this and when you
have your own phone, you’ll give it back to me. In the
meantime, we can stay in touch,” he flashes a smile she
can’t resist. She takes the phone from his hand.

“We’ll talk soon,” he says.

He turns around and walks towards the bar.

Laila’s eyes catch Sanaa at the left far end of the

bar. Sanaa’s own eyes are tracking Michael as he walks to
the bartender in the middle of the bar to order a brandy.
They exchange a look.

Laila doesn’t let on that she witnessed the whole

thing.

*****

After the party the car is out front to pick them up.

The ride home is surprisingly silent considering

how much drunken fun Sanaa seems to have had all
night.

She is so drunk that she takes a little nap in the

car, the Suzuki sound worse than the night before.
56
 Laila takes the opportunity to look inside the
gold clutch between them.

She sees a heap of US dollar notes inside the

envelope Sanna got from Michael.

Some of the pieces come together and she

realises where Sanaa must be getting her money from.
How she can afford the $500 dresses they’re wearing?

Is this the life she was referring to last night? The

life Sanaa expects her to also live?

She helps herself to a few of the notes, tucks

them into her suffocating cleavage and closes the bag
again.

Sanaa staggers out of the car and makes it into

the flat with the help of the driver and goes straight to
bed when they get home.

Laila can’t sleep. She replays the night’s incidents

in her mind until she drifts off.

*****

Michael wastes no time.

The call on the phone he gave her is Laila’s

Saturday morning wake up call.

“Hello,” she’s hardly awake.

“Made up your mind about dinner yet? I really

want to see you and get to know you better,” he says.

“I haven’t thought about it. You just woke me

up,” she responds with a chuckle.
57
 “This late? I’m at work already and you ladies
aren’t even awake yet? What is this world coming to?”
she can hear the smile in his voice.

She laughs.

“You have to eat, so it might as well be with

me,” he continues.

“I think dinner would be lovely,” she says.

“I’ll have a car pick you up tonight. How’s six

o’clock?”

She pauses. Her mind is muddled trying to figure

out what she will wear to dinner, especially with a man
like Michael.

“Can we make it tomorrow night. I have nothing

to wear tonight. It will give me time to get ready,” she
says.

“Don’t worry about that. Let’s make it earlier so

you can go shopping for tonight. I’ll have my driver pick
you up in two hours and bring you back to get ready. My
treat,” he says.

“That’s too much, I can’t accept that,” Laila is

almost embarrassed by his generosity.

“It’s really not any trouble. No arguments. I’ll see

you later,” he says before hanging up the phone.

He must know Sanaa better than I thought. He

didn’t even ask for the address.

*****

58
“You look beautiful,” Michael says.

He looks straight into Laila’s eyes. She can’t look

him in the eye.

She feels out of place, even more than she did

the night before. The bright lights and fast pace of life in
Dar is almost overwhelming to her.

“Thank you,” she says with a shy smile.

“How are you finding Dar es Salaam so far?”

Michael asks.

“It’s all still very new. I’ve only been here a few
days and here I am sitting in this fancy place, with a lot of
knives and forks in front of me. Frankly, I have no idea
what I need all these for,” she says.

Michael chuckles.

“I have to say, neither do I,” he lies to allay her

embarrassment.

She smiles.

“I’ve taken the liberty of ordering something for

the both of us, and dessert afterwards. I hope you like
chocolate,” Michael says.

“I do like chocolate. You are really spoiling me.

You may have to keep this going if us getting to know
each other starts off this extravagantly,” Laila says.

She is starting to feel more comfortable in

Michael’s company.

59
 “I intend to spoil you for the rest of your life, if
you let me,” Michael says.

Laila is surprised.

“I thought this was dinner to get to know each

other. You are already that far into the future?” she asks
him.

“Aren’t you? I was hoping you were because I’m

looking to settle down and sooner rather than later. I
really like you and I’m hoping that it’s with you that I can
do that,” he says.

“Oh,” she doesn’t know how to respond.

“Look, I know we just met. But I’m a man who

knows what he wants and I usually get it. I thought I
would let you know where I’m going with this so nothing
is a surprise to you. But for now, let’s enjoy dinner and
each other’s company,” Michael says.

He pours the champagne and hands Laila a glass.

She’s impressed.

*****

Days turn into weeks, then into months. The twins grow
bigger and stronger. They learn to sit, then crawl and
finally walk.

Bibi begins to accept that her only daughter is

not coming back home to her, or her sons.

Hope slowly dies and she decides to forget

about Lulu – to mourn the loss of her daughter and
60
accept the future dictated to her by circumstance – to
know that the twins are now hers to raise.

She had no time to transition from being

grandmother to instant mother. That’s the choice Lulu
made for her.

Once in a while she wonders where her daughter

is, what has become of her. She has no intention of
finding her, nor does she have the energy.

But she does wonder.

*****

Laila is comfortable in her blossoming romance with the

rich and attentive Michael. She’s living a life beyond what
she ever imagined, and all practically without a single
day’s work. Talk about hitting the jackpot.

Her feelings for him are not so cut and dry. She
knows she has no real feelings for him. She knows she
will never love anyone as much as she still loves Tumo.

Now she has to concentrate on making progress

in life, with or without love.

She’s been too busy being loved up with Michael

that she’s not been back to Sanaa’s flat to see her. Not
even a phone call between the two has been exchanged
in weeks.

Laila moves in with him as soon as he asks, one

month after they meet.

Strangely enough, Michael has never brought

her to his home and she has never asked to see where he
61
lives for fear of rocking the boat. His favourite hangouts
for them were hotels and little-known hideaways in Dar.

The house is a mansion by any standard. The

outside walls are whiter than any white Laila has seen.

Does this man paint after every rainfall? This house

is spotless!

She doesn’t have a lot to move in, just a few

suitcases of new clothes and trinkets Michael has bought
for her since the day they met. Her old luggage is padding
the bottom of a dumpster with everything she had in it.
The only thing she kept is Tumo’s wrist watch.

Michael is nowhere in sight to help her move in.

Instead, he has his personal assistant, the butler and the
driver help her.

Lucas, the butler, is someone she’s happy to

have in the house. Some men have been known to get
‘close’ with the maid, so she’s glad that’s not on the cards
for her. She’s certainly glad that she doesn’t have to
worry about keeping this big house clean.

Michael is an influential businessman running

several ‘The Chana Shop’ wholesalers in Dar, businesses
he built from the ground up.

He has a strong personality and ample

confidence.

He is 17 years older than Laila, but that was never

an issue between them. If she had a problem with it, she
never let on.

62
 His busy schedule sees her having dinner served
by the butler on her first night at the mansion - alone.

Her lone place-setting has a mat, utensils and a

big goblet of water. The plate in the middle of the mat
has rice and chicken stew, butternut and spinach on it.

She eyes the three big matching brightly lit

crystal chandeliers. Two of them are peeping at her from
the formal lounge right across from her, and the entrance
hall between the formal lounge and the dining room
she’s sitting in. The third is over the dining room table.

She’s sitting at the end closest to the wall. The

other end is the doorway that opens into the entrance
hall.

The long table is so shiny that she can see her

reflection in it. The wood is a beautiful brown oak and it’s
at least five metres long.

To amuse herself during the lonely dinner, she

counts the chairs around the table over and over again.

There are ten chairs on each of the long sides

and one at each end.

Twenty two chairs. Twenty two chairs. Who needs

twenty two chairs in one room of a private home? Do
twenty two people ever fill this table?

There must have been no more than six in the

house in Mwanza. The intricately carved chairs are
beautiful, but twenty two is a little excessive.

At the corner of her eye she sees a white and

grey uniform floating towards her in the dark short
63
passage between the kitchen and the dining room to her
right. Eventually the butler comes into full view as the
dining room light illuminates his face.

“Ma’am, is there anything else I can get for

you?” the butler interrupts her train of thought.

She clears her throat.

“No, I’m okay, thank you. Just one question: Do

you have any idea what time Mr Chana arrives home? His
cellphone is off, I’ve been trying him all day,” she asks.

“No, ma’am. He usually arrives home quite late,

but I’m sure he won’t be much longer.”

She nods.

“Anything else, ma’am?”

“I have one more question, Lucas. Have you ever

had to serve people filling this whole table?” she waves
her right arm over the table as if she was throwing a huge
cape over it.

He chuckles.

“Not often, but it happens. Maybe three or four

times a year.”

“Oh, okay,” she says in a confused tone.

“Who?”

“It differs. Christmas is usually his family and

close friends. Other times we have business people
over.”

64
 “Okay,” she says.

He waits for her to tell him if she needs him

before he knocks off for the evening.

“I’ll wait for Mr Chana upstairs. Thank you for

the lovely dinner,” she gives him a smile.

She gets up from the table and walks down the

left side of the table. Three chairs down she stops.

“One more thing. Will Mr Chana’s dinner be

ready for him when he gets back? How does that work?”

“Oh, usually the late meetings include dinner. He

may have a snack out of the fridge, but usually not more
than that.”

“Okay, thank you. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, ma’am,” Lucas says.

He waits for her to leave the room before

clearing the table.

*****

Hardly a month after she’s moved in, Sanaa is at her front

door very early in the morning. Lucas lets her in and has
her wait in the formal lounge before going up to call Laila.

“Sanaa, is everything okay?” Laila finds Sanaa

looking at the pictures on the mantle above the fireplace.

She’s still in her long pink satin robe and black

slippers. Her new weave is tucked under a black wrap.

She’s worried because of the hour.

65
 “Morning, Laila. How have you been?”

“I’m good, thank you. Everything okay?”

“I’m sorry I came so early. I waited for Michael to

leave for work so we can have some girl chat
undisturbed,” she says.

“Oh, okay.” Laila’s confused.

Sanaa walks to the single-seater on her left and

sits down.

There’s a small table between the chair and

another one like it.

Laila takes the second chair.

“What did you want to talk about?” Laila is

scared of what the answer could be.

“Don’t be so nervous and formal. We’re friends,

remember. We were never awkward with each other
when we shared my house and my bed.”

Is this leading somewhere?

“I’m not being formal. It’s just…it’s 8 o’clock in

the morning and you’re here for girl chat?”

“Well, I can see you’re in no mood for small talk

so I’ll just get to the point of why I’m here,” Sanaa says.

She gets up and walks back to the fireplace.

“Well, you seem to have your “happily ever

after” and since I had a hand in it, I think it’s time for you
to pay up for my services.”

66
 Laila cannot believe what she’s hearing.

She walks to join Sanaa at the fireplace.

“What are you talking about, Sanaa?”

“Honey, it was no coincidence that I approached

you on the bus that day. I had an assignment for you to
complete. And now that the assignment is paying off for
you, I think it’s about time for my pay day,” Sanaa says,
looking Laila dead in the eye.

“What assignment was that?” Laila asks.

Sanaa hesitates.

“Exactly what is it that makes you think you

deserve a pay day? It’s possible that Michael and I
wouldn’t have gotten together despite you introducing
us. Where would that have left you?” she asks Sanaa.

“Broke and alone in a new big town makes for a

desperate woman. We both know that even if you
couldn’t stand him, you need him. He knows girls like you
exist, and my assignment was to make sure I deliver one
to him every now and then. You just did what the others
have never managed before. That means my income dries
up!” she shrugs her shoulders.

“So you’re his pimp?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“That’s what you think. You may have brought

him ignorant young women. I may be one of them, but I
was ignorant for a very short time. You got your pay at
the gala event the night you brought me to meet
67
Michael. I’m sure you remember the long white envelope
with a stack of notes he gave you while I was in the
bathroom? So what am I worth?”

“You’re cheap, like all the others,” Sanaa says.

She walks away from the fireplace back to the chair.

Laila turns to face her.

“I’m sure if you felt that way you wouldn’t have

had me sleeping in your house. I’m sure you were
compensated for it? And like all pimps, I’m sure you got a
cut every time I went on a date with him? So, it seems the
transactional relationship is between you and Michael. If
anything, you owe me for my services, don’t you think?”

“You are out of your mind if you think I owe you

anything. Your new life is all thanks to me,” Sanaa stands
up from the chair. Her voice goes up with her.

“I think it’s telling that you waited for Michael to

leave so you can try to con money out of me. You’re not
getting a cent from me.”

Lucas walks in as tension between the two is at

its peak.

“Sorry, ma’am. May I get you and your guest

refreshments?”

“No, thank you. She was just leaving,” Laila’s

eyes stay on Sanaa as she responds to Lucas.

“Okay,” he bows out of the room.

68
 “I think we’re done here? I’ll be sure to tell
Michael you were here for whatever he may owe you,”
Laila threatens Sanaa.

“I’ll get in touch with him myself, thank you,”

Laila stands up from her seat.

“You will not be calling Michael ever again.

Whatever relationship you two had is now a thing of the
past. Now get the hell out of my house and don’t come
back again,” Laila says.

Sanaa has no response. Laila leads the way out

of the room, and opens the front door for her to leave.

Neither woman says another word.

Sanaa’s back is the last Laila sees of her before

she closes the door.

*****

“Sanaa was here this morning. She tells me the two of

you have a business arrangement going, and that some
money is due to her?” Laila gets straight to the point
once Michael sits down for dinner.

She has interests to jealously guard, and Sanaa is

not going to stand in the way of her new life and
privilege.

“I don’t know what she’s talking about,” says

Michael.

He pretends to be too busy cutting his medium

rare steak and roast potatoes to look up to her.

69
 “Well, she’s under the impression I owe her but I
have no outstanding dealings with her. Do you?”

“I owe her nothing,” Michael says sharply.

She doesn’t press him further.

“I don’t want her demanding money. She will

always come back for more. You have to stop talking to
her; otherwise you compromise your reputation and
whatever you’ve done to get here. She’s bad news.”

Michael knows she’s right.

He looks up for the first time when Laila doesn’t

press him on the nature of his dealings with Sanaa.

“Leave her to me. I’ll deal with her,” he

reassures her.

*****

Michael wastes no time fixing his ‘Sanaa problem’. On the

way to work the following morning, he stops over at the
flat.

“Michael, what are you doing here?” she says as

she opens the door, still in her pyjamas.

He forces his way past her and enters the house.

She knows this must mean trouble, and that she started
it when she tried to swindle money from Laila.

She stays close to the door, holding the handle

but does not close it all the way in case she needs to
escape Michael.

70
 “What part of keeping our business
arrangements just between us is confusing to you?” he’s
angry but is trying to keep a calm demeanour.

“What do you mean?” she doesn’t want to out

herself in case he’s refereeing to something else.

“Don’t act stupid. We both know that you are far

from stupid. Is the money I’m already paying you for your
discretion not enough? The free house you live in?”
Michael says.

“Michael, I can’t live like this forever while life

moves on outside the walls of this small flat. I’ve been in
this same spot for the last three years,” she says.

“If you don’t like it, then go. Find another job,
and get the hell out of my house. But if you ever dare
open your mouth again about our dealings, to anyone, I
will permanently close your mouth for you,” he says
angrily and goes for the door.

She pulls it open for him because her hand was

already on the handle.

Sanna know Laila is someone she can’t mess

with, especially attached to a powerful and rich man like
Michael.

*****

It’s exactly six months since Laila’s arrival in Dar es

Salaam.

Six months since she entered the life of the rich

and glamorous.

71
 And in six months, she has managed to become
Mrs Michael Chana.

The couple make their union as effortless as

possible. They have a civil ceremony at the courthouse
because Michael’s schedule is too busy to plan a big
wedding. Laila is okay with that because her guest list is
virtually non-existent.

The Chana name is her sure ticket to a lifetime of

luxury.

*****

Laila’s life resembles nothing of the life she left

behind. The now sophisticated and driven woman works
with her husband, growing their business empire.

Neither wants children.

Laila’s reasons for not having children are

something she has not been honest with her husband
about. Her fear of producing more children like the ones
she left behind kills her dream of being part of the
perfect family.

It is the one thing she fears will follow her

everywhere she goes, so she keeps it buried in her past.

Michael’s busy life and ambitious nature compels

him to be less of a family man than he would otherwise
be.

Being a supportive wife, Laila steps into the role

of the spouse of an aspiring politician when Michael’s
ambitions surface.

72
 She knows what motivates the man she married,
and she’s okay with it, as long as it keeps her in the
pampered position she now enjoys.

The allure of more money and power are

seductive to him and Laila.

*****

It’s always been an expectation of Bibi’s that she would

have to answer questions from the twins about their
parents.

But as time passes, the pain of it all becomes too

much for her. She is burdened by having to protect her
young grandchildren from the harm outside, so the
prospects of having to explain to them that their mother
didn’t want them becomes too much for her.

When the boys are six years old, the questions

start in earnest.

The answer about their father has always been

simple. She knows their lives would be very different if
Tumo was still alive.

She knows he would have done anything for his

children and that Lulu would have stayed to raise them if
he was around.

She mourned her daughter’s departure in order

to come to terms with her absence. That is what she
decides would be the best way for the boys to come to
terms with her absence and bury any thoughts of her.

The three Masalus take a few minutes after the

boys bathe before they retire for the night to read the
73
Bible and talk. This is the time Bibi knows anything that
bothers them will come up.

And that’s the time they chose to bring up the

question about their mother.

“Bibi, you never talk about our mother. You only

told us that papa passed away before we were born, but
not mama,” Asani starts.

“Is that because she’s still alive?” Safi asks.

“No, my boy, your mother passed away from a

broken heart shortly after you were born. She had lost
your father before you were born, and they had both
wanted children so much that when you were born, her
heart ached so much that he was not there,” she tells
them.

“Was she not happy we were born?” Asani asks.

“Of course she was. She just felt overwhelmed

that your father wasn’t there. She loved him very much,”
she says.

“If she was happy, why could she not stay for us?
At least we could make her heart feel better,” Safi says.

“I can’t answer that my child. The heart does

what it wants sometimes. Even if you love someone, it
can break for something else completely different
instead of being happy about being in love.’ She hopes
this satisfies them.

“Okay,” Safi responds.

74
 Asani is not satisfied, but he doesn’t press
further.

75
 The hunt of the zeru-zeru

How time flies. It’s been over a decade since Lulu’s

departure and life has taken shape in the Masalu
household.

Bibi has had to wear the hat of educator in the

boys’ lives. That was her only option considering she
could never afford to pay for their education.

She’s one of the few literate elderly women in

the community, having been an avid reader from an early
age.

Not only is she the teacher to both boys, but she

is their primary caretaker, finding innovative ways to
make their small income stretch. She manages to supply
the month’s food and other necessities from her pension
for all three of them.

76
 On the bad months, her little garden that
supplements their supply becomes the main source of
food.

The boys’ safety is always a concern, as she knew

it would be when they were born. She has lived all her life
in a community that believes in traditional medicine, not
only for health issues, but also to solve emotional,
spiritual and other problems. She has always been aware
of some of the methods that the local waganga use to
solve the problems their clients and patients bring to
them.

Some are twisted and questionable, and they are

yet to be proven to yield actual results.

But the method that directly affects Bibi and her

boys is the use of human tissue to make potions. There is
a belief that albino body parts and hair provide good
fortune and money. Potions made from albino body parts
are deemed more powerful and potent than any other
potion.

Being albino makes one a special target, not only

because your body is a gold mine, but because there are
so few albinos in the community, making supply a
scarcity.

Bibi has managed to spread a net in the form of

her neighbours to keep the boys safe, but her reach is
limited, which means she has to limit their movements.

All her immediate neighbours also act as her

eyes and ears when there is word that the boys are on an
outsiders’ radar. ‘Outsiders’ meaning the hunters.

77
 The hunters are the men and women who are
paid very handsomely to catch, kidnap, hack and/or kill
albinos to harvest their body parts for potions. Different
potions require certain parts and it is up to the hunters to
get those parts.

The unscrupulous hunters do not care about

lives. Neither do the waganga nor their clients – they only
care about one thing: money.

In a lot of instances, the victim is killed, even if

the part they seek is hair, or a limb. That way, the witness
is also eliminated.

*****

It is an expected eventuality for albino children and

adults alike to be hunted, so when the boys’ turn comes,
it’s hardly a surprise.

Their turn comes when a wealthy man from Dar

es Salaam decides to run for political office. He is a
successful businessman and has the influence and money
that comes with that. His next big venture would be in
the political sphere, which means that a little help from
the spiritual world is necessary to ensure success.

As a businessman, he has always depended on

the advice and help of his mganga to make sure
everything is always in his favour, so there is no question
that he would approach the same man for help this time.

The mganga works from a darkly lit shack made

of rusting corrugated iron sheets with two small windows
in the heart of Da es Salaam. The walls are lined with
shelves that store his tools and herbs. The centre of the
78
room is where he does his consultations. The floor is
plastered with mud, and he has four straw mats forming
a big rectangle in the middle of the floor. A thin
traditional cloth creates a second layer of flooring.

Upon entry, the businessman knows to take off

his shoes and assume a posture of submissiveness,
almost hunching his back to show respect to the spirits.
He then sits opposite the mganga, leaving space between
them on the floor.

“How can I help you today, Mr Chana?” the

mganga says.

“I have it on good authority that albino twins live

in Mwanza, defenceless, with their aging and poor
grandmother,” Michael responds.

The mganga is all but salivating at the sound of

twin albinos at his disposal.

“I need to make sure my election into the

mayoral office goes smoothly and I need all the
supernatural help I can get,” he continues.

“You can guarantee success with zeru-zeru

potions. Although I’m yet to know the power of twin
zeru-zeru, I would be honoured to harness that power. I
would be the first to make the most powerful potion. You
will make history and your power will be beyond even
your own imagination. The ramifications are
immeasurable,” the mganga says.

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. We have a

small window to make this happen, so the sooner we
79
start the better. Spare no expenses, do you understand?”
Michael says.

“I have some of the best hunters around. They

always deliver,” the mganga assures Michael.

Michael takes a piece of paper out of his jacket

pocket and hands it over to him.

“Here is the information about where to find

them,” Michael says.

“I’m on it.”

*****

It is a hot summer’s evening after a few days of rain in

Mwanza and the family goes about their normal routine
after supper. In hot and sticky weather like this, the
routine involves evening cool baths for the boys.

They each use their own big plastic tub, oval in shape,
with handles on the two narrowest ends. Safi’s tub is red,
while Asani’s is blue. That way the boys have one less
thing to fight over.

The only things they have several of in the same

colour are the black caps that have no real home in their
dresser. They don’t seem to mind mixing them up
because they all look the same and have the same
function. Every single day the boys look the same from
the neck up, each in sunglasses and a black cap to shield
their faces from the sun.

After bathing, Asani slips into his light blue

cotton short pyjamas, while Safi puts on a dark red
version of the same pyjamas.
80
 For the most part, Safi is the ‘red’ twin and Asani
is the ‘blue’ twin – not necessarily by choice, but because
Bibi says so.

The boys then alternate reading a verse from the

week’s book of the Bible to Bibi, who sits at the edge of
the bed as they read and pray. Then it is time for bed.

As soon as Bibi gets the boys settled in bed,

there is a knock on the kitchen door. Bibi finds this
strange for that time of the night, as well as the choice of
door.

She hurries to open the door, taking the candle

she held for the Bible reading with her.

Omary’s panic-stricken face greets Bibi. His

expression immediately unnerves her.

“Evening, Bibi. I don’t mean to alarm you, but

there isn’t a lot of time to explain,” says the man Bibi
trusts with her life.

He’s about 45 year old, but one wouldn’t easily

tell considering the great condition he’s in.

He’s wearing black clothing from head to toe,

covering his bald head with a black woollen hat. On his
feet are black sneakers. His T-shirt is long-sleeved light
cotton, paired with black jeans.

“We heard the boys are being hunted.

Apparently two unfamiliar men are making their way up
here, specifically asking for the Masalu family’s location.
There is no time to waste, I suspect they will reach your
doorstep at some point tonight,” he states.

81
 Bibi can do nothing but listen, dumbstruck by
what she is hearing. Although she always knew this
would come to her doorstep one day, being in that
moment feels like an out-of-body experience to her.

“We have to get them out of here,” his voice

sounding more urgent this time. He realises he has to
take charge of the situation to move things along.

“Bibi,” Omary says, gently holding her by the

shoulders to wake her from her stupor.

“We have to move them to a safe location for

the night…or longer.”

She finally snaps out of it: “I just put them to

bed. I’ll go get them ready.”

“We don’t have time for that. Just put shoes on

them. I’m not sure exactly where we are headed yet, but
they are safer any place but here,” he says.

“I’m coming with you,” Bibi says.

“No,” Omary interrupts Bibi before can qualify

her statement.

“Bibi, we don’t have the time,” he continues.

“It’s night time and we may be running to a

distant destination. It will be pointless for you to come.
We need to be fast and not have to worry if you are doing
okay. Stay here and maybe think of a way to convince the
hunters that the boys are not here and won’t be back,”
he says.

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 She pauses for a moment as if to ponder her
options, then springs into action: she turns to go to the
boys’ room that was behind her, opens the brown door
leading into the room and disappears into the darkness
ahead of her.

She shakes the boys awake from the bed they

sleep in head to toe, the same bed they used to share
with their mother. It has now been moved to the wall
opposite the door.

Not explaining herself, she sternly instructs the

boys to put on their sports shoes, which are under the
high bed. The boys have a system of storage for the two
pairs of shoes they each own. They place their shoes
under the bed, from the middle out towards their own
end of the bed. They avoid the edges close to their heads
in case there is smell coming from the shoes after being
worn all day.

The little light that streams in through the open

door helps the boys navigate their way through the
darkness.

Bibi goes to their dresser and grabs the sweaters

off the top of the drawer section.

“Here, put this on, and come with me,” she says
in almost a whisper as she hands the boys their sweaters
in their respective colours. They both quickly put them on
despite the fact that they are quite warm already.

The boys stumble out of their dark room herded

by their grandmother.

83
 If the boys are surprised to see Omary there,
they do not show it. They both say nothing. Maybe they
heard more than the adults think they heard.

Bibi softly spins them around with both her

hands on their heads to make them face her once in the
kitchen.

“Omary is going to take you to a safe place

tonight. Listen to him and do everything he tells you to
do, do you hear me?” she says in a panicked voice.

The boys nod as they lower their heads while she

speaks.

Omary grabs the boys’ hands on the outsides of

the line the Masalu trio forms. They turn to face the door
in an awkward twist because of their close proximity to
the open door.

As they make their exit, Omary stops and turns

back.

“They will be fine. Juma is coming with us and he

will check later to see if it’s safe to come back,” he
assures her.

She is close to tears at this point, but holds them

back so she does not alarm the boys in an already tense
and confusing situation. She manages to force a smile on
her anxious face.

Omary turns and they disappear into the dark

outside, causing Bibi’s stomach to drop with fear.

She’s fearful of where the boys are spending the

night. Fearful of whether they will be intercepted by the
84
hunters. Fearful for her own safety when the hunters
eventually come to her door.

Fearful of what tomorrow will be like if they

make it through the night.

*****

Bibi goes into the boys’ room and sits on their bed, just
out of the soft glare of the light coming in through the
door.

Her head is reeling, but she has to snap out of it.

She has to think of a way to help save the

situation. Who knows how far the hunters are prepared
to go to secure their prey. Would they kill an innocent
person for standing in their way?

An air of determination fills her with the deep

breath she takes to calm her nerves. She stands up to
leave the room. Then she realises she has been sitting on
that bed for much longer than she thought. Maybe for
twenty or thirty minutes.

Her laboured walk out of the dark room is not

because of old age. The stress and fear she experiences
caring for the boys is at its peak tonight. Perhaps it is the
build-up of the years she has spent waiting for this. Or the
reality that nights like this are to be expected by families
like hers.

She manages to make it to the kitchen and sits

down at the one-seater on the right side of the boys’
bedroom door. Time seems to stand still and numbness
sets in all over her body.

85
 It is another half an hour before she comes back
to her senses.

She looks at the black rim clock above the door

across from her.

Has an hour passed since Omary and the boys left?

Is that right?

Her skin gets a cold chill as goosebumps spread

from her forearms inward, to her upper body and down
to the lower body.

Her body is now rigidly straight up in the chair as

fresh panic starts to set in.

Her blood goes cold when she finally opens her

mouth and softly whispers to herself: “Could Omary be
the hunter? Did I give my boys to a hunter?”

*****

The defeat inside the elderly woman is crippling. More

crippling than the fear she feels over her grandsons’
impending doom. The fact that she handed them to the
hunter makes her feel sick. She is most certainly
convinced now: Omary must be the hunter.

She processes the evening’s events in her mind,

moment by moment. His rush out of the house as if the
hunters are right on his tail is a tell-tale sign.

An hour, if not more, has already passed without

further disturbances since he has left with the boys.

What must the boys think of her now? Surely

they can see or sense that something is amiss?

86
 And it is all her fault!

*****

She wracks her brain to figure out how and where she
can go for help. She certainly couldn’t wait until morning.

The police? The station is too far. The neighbours

she has trusted to help her keep the boys safe all their
lives? Can she trust them?

Omary is one of them, after all.

Who can she go to at this time of night, on her

own?

She stands up from her chair to go somewhere,

do something, although she has no idea where or what
that is.

The front door crashes open with a bang. The

sound of bits of wood hitting the floor and the few pieces
of furniture in the front room travels to the kitchen.

The room has a small desk and two chairs against

the wall furthest from the front door. The three-seater
couch with removable sponge cushions covered in an
awful green tweed fabric is against the wall across the
room.

There is a big window between the desk and the

front door, which is the source of light when Bibi is
teaching the boys during the day.

In the middle of the room, a weak little wooden

ball and claw coffee table stands, with the matching small
wooden cabinet against the smallest wall in the room,
87
the one closest to the doorway to the kitchen. On the
cabinet, a brass vase stands with mixed plastic flowers,
which are now old and fading in colour from being
dusted and washed over the years.

The bang of the breaking door makes Bibi’s body

involuntarily turn to the right to face where the sound is
coming from.

The sound of the cracking wood under the feet

of whoever is now making their way into the house
makes her think the table is also now in pieces.

All she can go on is sound because she can’t see

into the dark room.

She realises it must the hunters. Her senses

quickly perk back into working order.

She has to get through this in one piece and

throw the hunters off course so they do not come back
again.

The bead curtain separating the living room and

the kitchen furiously crackles when a tall, thin figure
pierces its way out from the darkness into the only lit
room in the house.

The candle on the kitchen table is now low,

making the light very bad. Bibi can’t make out the details
on the man’s face, just that he has very thick eyebrows
on a square-shaped face. His lips are thick too, but
nothing else is really memorable about him.

He is wearing dark jeans and black sports shoes,

with a not-so-clean round-necked grey T-shirt under a
dark blue denim jacket.
88
 His musty smell catches her off guard and she
tilts back on her feet, almost losing her balance. It must
have been fanned by the breeze following the man from
the gaping hole that used to be the front door.

A second, shorter man who is less intimidating

than the first appears behind him.

Both men must be in their late twenties or early

thirties.

The short man makes an effort to seem more

intimidating. His once black jeans and matching jacket are
now greying from being worn a few times too many. He
wears a long sleeve black round neck vest and completes
his forced bad boy look with heavy black leather boots,
which are tucked under his jeans.

In his right hand is a gleaming new machete. Bibi

gasps at the sight of the sharp blade.

The musty man makes his way towards Bibi. She

springs towards him with an unexpected roar in her
voice.

“You took my boys, you killed my boys!” she

screams.

She lunges forward, beating the tall man on his

chest with her fists as soon as she reaches him.

The man’s strong stench feels like she has run

into a brick wall, face first. It hits her like a solid mass,
landing so far back in her throat that she can almost taste
it.

89
 The smell of liquor on his breath exposes the
possible reason they took time reaching her house.

But she can’t react to either smell, although she

feels sick at the nasty combination. She has to put on a
theatrical performance despite the unexpected odorous
challenge.

She tries to act unaffected by the weapon the

short man holds.

“You killed my boys, you killed them!” she lets

out an aggressive scream. Her face is buried in the stinky
man’s chest, a ploy to conceal the lack of tears in her
eyes.

The musty man freezes as she continues to beat

him.

“They are gone, you murderers! You’re going to

hell, murderers!” she yells.

He restrains her in a loose bear hug and she lets

out a screeching yelp and manages to finally coax a few
tears out.

The short man appears irritated by the old

woman’s antics and walks past them to the right towards
the door he can see from where he was standing, taking
the candle on the table with him. He is not much taller
than Bibi.

Bibi’s bedroom door bangs against the wall as he

flings it open. He takes two steps into the room and
nothing more. The scarcity of furniture in the room tells
him there is not much for anyone to hide behind. The bed
90
is high and directly in front of him; no one can
successfully hide under it.

He furiously spins around and takes one huge

step out of the bedroom, heading to the opposite side of
the kitchen towards the boy’s room. Bibi’s continued
screams provides the background noise to this scene in
her house. The tall man is still holding her.

Her movement becomes more exaggerated with

her arms flying all over the place, forcing the musty man
to swing her body around to face the other way – away
from his body – and he holds her by her crossed wrists.
Bibi’s clever plan to get her face away from the man’s
smelly chest works. She feels like she would have passed
out if she remained buried in the stench.

The door to the other room is already open, so

the short man marches in with his heavy boots. He
disappears into the bedroom, the light exiting with him,
slowly abandoning Bibi and her captor in growing
darkness.

The high metal frame of the bed shows no space

to hide anyone, so he moves to the corners of the long
room anti-clockwise. He finds nothing but a chair in the
first corner on the other end of the bed. He puts the
candle on the chair and moves left to the next corner.
Nothing is there.

He turns to the left again, his eyes meeting the

brown wooden dresser. He opens the left door of the
dresser with his free hand. He reaches inside, and throws
out all the clothing he lays his hand on, more out of
frustration than thinking he could find anyone hiding
inside.
91
 He looks behind the door on his left, even
though it is obvious there is nothing to find there. He
takes the candle from the chair.

He swings the door back and it bangs against the

wall as he makes his way back to the kitchen, again
illuminating the room as he enters.

He goes back to the room he started with, the

light again leaving the kitchen with him.

Bibi is now genuinely crying, her weight slumping

in the musty man’s arms. The floral calf-length dress she
has on lifts slightly above her knees as she slowly wilts
down to the floor.

The short man starts looking around the room,

starting behind the door and working his way up the right
side of the room.

He pulls the bedding off the bed, throwing it on

the floor, then bends to look under the high bed, which
was half concealed by the bedspread. He moves onto the
single door dresser which sits to the left side of the room.

He puts the candle on top of the drawers and

makes a beeline to the door, ignoring the drawers
completely.

There is barely any clothing hanging inside when

he opens the single door: four or five dresses that look
much like the one Bibi has on, in different colours, plus a
dark pink morning gown that looks soft and warm, and a
black apron with a red trim around the edges.

He swings his free arm inside the dresser and

finds nothing between the few pieces of clothing.
92
 He takes the candle and goes back to the
kitchen, reaches for the handle of the back door on his
left. He stands in the doorway and looks outside.

Seeing nothing, seeing no further than the little

candle light can expose of the night, he turns to face Bibi,
who is now on the floor weeping.

“Where is the toilet?” he demands.

She’s inconsolable and continues to cry as if the

man had said nothing to her.

The musty man steps over Bibi and walks around

the table towards the back door. He takes the candle
from his short partner in crime without saying a word and
heads out to search the back yard.

After several seconds he comes back. The candle

is now out and he all but throws it onto the table.

“Where are my boys?” cried Bibi.

The men ignore her. The musty man grabs the

box of matches off the table and lights the candle.

He casually throws the box back and makes eye

contact with his partner.

“They are not here,” he says.

“Do you think he has more than one team

looking?” asks the short guy.

“Certainly looks like it,” replies the musty tall

man.

93
 The short man motions with his head that they
should be heading out now, the same way they came in.

Both men walk around the table with defeated

postures, past Bibi and back through the bead curtain,
crunching the small pieces of wood under their feet on
their way through the living room.

Bibi stays on the ground crying, her sobs waning

with the growing distance between her and the hunters,
until there is a hush in the house.

She lifts herself up from the cool floor, takes the

candle from the table and heads to the living room
through the clattering beads. While straightening herself
out, wiping tears off her face and shifting her dress back
into place, she surveys what is left in the wake of the
hunters’ stopover.

*****

The old woman inspects her house room by room, candle

in hand, after the hunters’ departure.

She takes a lingering look around the living

room, first seeing the black night through the gaping
doorway that has one wood panel still holding on for
dear life on both hinges. The rest of the panels are strewn
around the room in pieces, mostly in front of the long
couch and table and all over the floor. Bits of broken
wood made their way across the floor towards the desk
and two chairs.

Her eyes pan back to the middle of the room

where her old little table stands. Thankfully the table is
still intact, just pushed slightly out of place. It is
94
surprisingly comforting to Bibi that a piece of furniture
she didn’t realise she valued so much made it through the
unbearable night.

She turns around and goes back through the

beads, through the kitchen and into the boys’ room. Even
though she knows the boys are likely safe wherever they
are, she gets shivers down her spine at the sight of the
empty room, and the thought of the machete the short
man brought into the room they were sleeping in a short
while ago.

The bed where their warm bodies were just a

while ago is empty. Not one night has gone by since the
boys’ birth has that bed been empty.

The rest of the chaos around the room doesn’t

seem to register with Bibi, and she turns and exits the
room without thinking further than the empty bed.

She only realises when she makes her way to her

bedroom that the kitchen door is still open. She slowly
reaches for the door, closes it gently and turns the key to
lock. She turns to walk to her room. By the time she
reaches the room, a sudden heavy tiredness envelops her
body.

She walks straight to her naked bed, placing the

candle on the drawers as she passes the dresser. She sits
on the bed, having left the bedding where it lies on the
floor. Her body feels even heavier.

Shoes and all, she reclines on her bed, leaving

the candle burning, at the back of her mind still expecting
the boys to return tonight.

95
 *****

When Bibi wakes, the candle is nothing but a puddle of

wax at the bottom of the tin holder. The wick is still lit,
floating in the liquid centre of the puddle.

It is still dark outside.

She sits up and gathers her thoughts for a

moment. When she is fully alert, she gets up off the bed
and takes the wax puddle to the kitchen. She walks to
the cabinet that stands between the bead curtain and the
armchair. From the left drawer she takes out a new white
candle. She lights it with the dying flame of the old
candle, shoves it into the soft centre of the melted wax,
white splatters spreading outwardly as the cooling wax
makes room. She holds it until it is firm in place.

The evening seems like a long bad dream, one

that has not yet ended. Not until the boys are back home.

All she can do now is wait. Wait to see her boys

again. Wait to figure out the way forward. Wait unto the
next threat to the boys’ wellbeing comes around?

Is this how she will be spending her old age? Is

she going to spend it trying to keep Safi and Asani safe?
Not just safe, but alive?

The soft crackling of the new flame wakes her to

reality again and she sets out to the living room. She
doesn’t know why, but she involuntarily gravitates in that
direction. In that zombie-like state, she puts the candle
on the cabinet on the left as she enters the room.

She circles the room clearing the pieces of wood

off the floor, starting from the long couch next to the
96
cabinet, moving in a clockwise direction past the door
and the window, then the desk and two chairs.

She circles back to her starting point and pulls

the couch forward, placing the pieces behind it. She turns
to face the centre of the room and puts the table back in
its place.

The room is almost back to its original state,

except for the permanently open door that’s letting the
crisp dawn breeze in.

The boys will not see much evidence of the

chaos of the evening, except for the missing front door.

After the last scan of the room, she walks over to

the cabinet and blows out the candle, then sits on the
couch in the dark, waiting.

*****

Daybreak is approaching and Bibi is still waiting. First

prize would be to see Safi and Asani back in the house,
safe and warm. A close second would be news of some
kind on their whereabouts.

What would the day be like if nothing happens

and she is forced to wait, and wait, and wait?

She does not have to wait much longer. As the

first sun rays make their appearance, there is a knock on
the back door.

97
 The hunted

As the door closes behind them, Safi and Asani wonder

what the darkness ahead has in store for them.

Each boy holds on tighter to Omary’s hands as

he leads them away from their home, away from the only
safety they have ever known.

They have nothing familiar to hold onto, except

Omary.

Omary’s voice breaks the dark silence: “Safi,

Asani, we have a bit of distance to cover. I need you boys
to keep up.”

“Yes, mjomba,” Safi says.

They keep up the pace despite the dark path

ahead of them. There are no lights, or an actual path. No
98
stranger could navigate these woods, especially at night.
But Omary knows these woods like the back of his hand.

He uses the light of his cellphone screen to light

the path in front of them.

“Where are we going?” Asani asks.

“We’re going to a quiet spot up the hill. We have

to go through the woods to get there,” Omary says.

“Why did we have to leave the house?” Safi asks.

“Boys, let’s get where we’re going first, then I

will explain what’s going on,” Omary responds.

With that, the boys fall silent in obedience.

The deeper into the night, and woods they go,

the more nervous they become. The less they trust their
guide, and the less safe they feel as distance separates
them from home.

Their footsteps are the only source of noise as

they step on old leaves and broken branches.

The boys had been sandwiched between the two

men, with Omary in front of them, and Juma about a
metre behind them. Their hands had long become
detached from Omary’s.

Without any warning, Juma darts off to his left

about fifteen minutes into the hike. Safi is seemingly the
only one aware of his disappearance because he walked
closest to him.

99
 After a few seconds, when he realises that his
back is no longer covered, he makes sure he keeps closer
to his brother, who is a few paces ahead of him.

Omary’s steps are too wide and his grown up

muscles carry him a lot further than the boys can
manage, so they don’t bother trying to match him.

“Juma is gone. He’s not behind us anymore.” To

the boys, Omary seems unaware of Juma’s
disappearance until Safi alerts him.

Omary slows down. Asani stops to give full

attention to what Safi has just said.

Omary stops when he realises the pair is puzzled.

“Boys, let’s keep moving. Juma is fine. He will

come to meet with us in a little while,” Omary says.

Both boys’ questioning eyes glare back at him, a

tinge of mistrust on their faces.

“Look boys, Juma is just making sure Bibi is okay

and that no one is following us. We need to get to a safe
place. Let’s keep moving,” he says in an impatient tone
the boys don’t recognise.

They have no choice but to obey.

What else can they do? They certainly cannot try

to find their way back home.

Besides, what would they say to Bibi when they

arrive home after disobeying Omary?

100
 “We don’t have far to go. Come on,” says
Omary.

The three take off again, with Omary making the

first move, pulling the twins like a magnet – forward and
closer to him in proximity.

*****

The hike up the wooded hill takes about 30 minutes.

They find a small bald patch in the woods: an old

camp site that has random rocks and a small amount of
garbage strewn about.

Omary puts away his phone and takes out a box

of matches, lights one and uses it to find a thin twig to
use for light. He immediately finds one, breaking it off the
tree closest to them. Although it had been raining
recently, there are a few pieces of wood that escaped the
moisture, thankfully.

Once he lights the twig, it gives off more light

and the shape of the camp site becomes more visible. It is
an almost perfect circle, but it is small, maybe about
twelve metres in diameter.

“What is this place?” asks Safi. Both boys are

slightly behind Omary on either side of him.

“It’s an old site where new people in the area

used to camp before they found a place to live in the
village,” Omary responds.

“They stayed for a few nights while working at

the fish farm in the afternoon, but when criminals started
using the place to hide out, the people in the village
101
chased any campers away to make sure the bad guys had
no place to hide,” he continued.

“This place is a little scary,” Asani says in a soft

voice.

“We need to make a fire. Help me find some

wood, Asani. Safi, you gather big rocks and place them
over there,” Omary instructs the boys, pointing to a large
rock on the left end of the bald circle.

Omary finds a bigger piece of wood to light and

use as a torch as the older one is almost burnt out. The
darkness here is thick, with only specks of dim light
visible through the trees at a distance – the distance they
travelled uphill from the village to the isolated spot. The
light is most likely through windows of homes with
candles lit inside.

The three get to work gathering as much dry

wood as they can find close by. Safi makes sure he
doesn’t go anywhere near the outlining trees for his
rocks out of fear that something will jump out at him
from the woods.

After a few minutes, he has his rocks lumped

together close to the larger rock, and the wood
collectors bring their bundles to the gathering spot.

Omary hands the torch twig to Asani and starts

working on the fire.

“Safi, help me make a circle with those rocks,”

he says as he clears away old ash from the ground with
one of the bigger pieces of wood.

102
 He starts on the circle and Safi hands him the
rocks because he’s not sure what to do with them
himself.

After the rocks are arranged in a small neat

circle, Omary grabs the wood and throws the lot in the
middle, then adjusts it to make an even and balanced
stack.

He takes the torch twig from Asani and lights

two or three thinner pieces of wood in the stack. It takes
a few minutes for the fire to catch. The boys stand there
and watch Omary and the fire as if he had performed a
magic trick. Any fear and uncertainty they had seem to go
away with the growing light and heat from the fire.

Asani comes close to Safi and they move in an

almost choreographed manner to sit against the big rock.
Omary finds a spot to sit, and the three watch the fire for
a short while without saying a word.

“Is Bibi okay alone at home?” Asani breaks the

silence.

“Bibi is fine, Asani. Juma is checking on her to

make sure nothing happens to her,” he says in a calm
voice, which brings comfort to the twins.

“Who are we running away from, and for how

long?” Safi asks.

“I don’t really know,” Omary tells them frankly,

causing more confusion for the boys.

“I mean, I don’t know the people, only that they

are bad men who go around doing bad things to people
for money. We just need to make sure you are safe
103
tonight. And when they are gone, we will go back home,”
Omary says.

“But why are they looking for us?” Safi presses

Omary for answers.

“I don’t know, Safi. I would rather not find out,”

Omary lies.

“Do you want to find out what bad people do to

people they are looking for?” he wants to close the
subject.

“No,” Safi says before quitting with the

interrogation.

They sit in silence and watch the fire in an almost

hypnotic trance.

The lapse in time is only evident because the fire

is now almost burning out, so Omary starts to look
around from his sitting position for more wood.

When that doesn’t work, he gets up and circles

the site for the wood, coming back with a few big pieces
to ensure they have fire for a few more hours.

*****

Sleep is heavy on the boys’ eyes and they battle to stay

awake. They are now sitting against each other on the
ground, leaning on the large rock behind them.

They fall asleep and wake several times: the

crackling of the fire wakes them; the uncomfortable
ground under them wakes them; any movement Omary
104
makes wakes them; Omary slapping the biting bugs off
his neck wakes them.

There is no way to tell how long they have been

in the woods. It is still pitch black and the cold of the
night has set in. Juma has not showed his face yet, which
is slightly worrying to Omary as he had expected Juma to
have shown up by now with an update.

The fire is at its hottest and Omary thinks

whether or not to start looking for more wood to carry
them through the night.

A slight rustle in the woods in front of him makes

him lose his train of thought. The rustle gets louder, and
before long Juma appears from the dark.

Omary is quick to his feet and approaches Juma

before he can make it too far into the camp circle.

Asani wakes up from their longest spell of sleep

for the night when he hears the commotion, but he’s
alert enough to fake still being asleep. Safi seems
unaffected by it and sleeps undisturbed.

There is dead silence in the air, as if the whole

world is asleep, as if their night was never turbulent.

“They are gone, and Bibi seems okay. I didn’t go

into the house to check on her, I only watched from a
distance. I could see light and movement through the
windows and doors a while after I saw the two men
leave,” Asani overhears Juma telling Omary.

Omary is listening, as if constructing their next

move. He slowly strolls to Juma’s right side, creating a bit
of distance as he continues to think. He sharply turns his
105
head back to face Juma, and then approaches him just as
speedily.

“Let’s wait here for another thirty minutes in

case someone was watching the house from a distance,
or even your movements,” he says to Juma.

This seems to have not occurred to Juma, who is

now looking around into the trees for any hiding threat.

“I’m almost certain nobody was behind me. We

have been gone all night, I’m certain Bibi is going out of
her mind with worry,” says Juma.

“As long as she’s not harmed, she will be okay

for a little while longer. She’s a tough one,” Omary
responds.

Asani shifts from his position, his neck stiff and in

pain from straining it while eavesdropping on the two
men’s conversation.

Omary goes back to his seat. Juma follows him

and stands close to the fire.

“Juma,” Asani says as he sits up. He pretends it’s

the first time he realises Juma is there.

“Hi, Asani,” is all that comes out of Juma’s

mouth. He gives Asani a faint, friendly smile.

Safi wakes and springs straight up into a sitting

position, his legs straightened in front of him, as if he had
been startled by something.

Omary chuckles and says: “You would make a

great soldier if you’re this alert when you wake up!”

106
 Asani rolls his eye, which nobody catches in the
dark.

Oh please, he slept through your whole

conversation!

*****

The time to head back is here and the four prepare for
the hike back down the hill.

Juma gathers sand with his hands and throws it

over the fire. He does this several times to make sure
they leave no spark or flame that could start a wild fire
after they leave.

The boys just stand ready for the journey, as if

wondering why Juma and Omary seem to be hesitating
to head back home by keeping busy doing nothing.

Omary is almost tidying up the camp site, but not

really. He’s just rearranging the rocks as if preparing a
neat place for the next campers to find when they arrive.
Besides, he can’t be doing a good job considering he is
doing all this in the dark after the camp fire was put out.

The darkest time of the night has long gone as

dawn approaches.

This takes a few minutes, way too long in the

boys’ eyes since they pretty much spent the entire night
outside, on the hard ground.

“Shall we?” Omary finally says, leading the lot

out of the bald patch the same way they came in.

107
 They all walk down the hill in silence. In front is
Omary, followed by Asani, then Safi and Juma at the
back.

The boys could easily run the course back home,

but the two men they walk between contain them,
almost imprisoning them.

Their strides are smaller, their pace a little less

urgent than when they went up. The feeling of danger is
almost gone now, just anticipation to get home, to make
sure Bibi is okay and to show her they are okay too.

The thinning trees are making a clear path for

them with every step.

Light from the village is brighter now, even

though only two or three houses are lit at this time of the
morning.

As they approach home, Omary seems to slow a

little. One can almost hear his heartbeat from a distance.
He seems anxious, almost scared of what he will find on
the other side of that kitchen door.

He visibly takes a few deep breaths to calm his

nerves as he continues walking.

They arrive at Bibi’s door and Omary pauses. The

boys are standing side by side behind him, with Juma
behind them.

He places a few firm knocks on the door, then

reaches for each boys’ hands without looking back at
them.

They wait for Bibi to open.

108
 When the dust settles

Bibi’s heart skips a beat. She gets up to open the door.

She doesn’t light the candle, although some extra light
would be useful.

Her body is tired all over again as she splits the

strings of beads to go into the kitchen. But her anxious
heart propels her to lift her legs to the back door.

She unlocks the door without asking who it is.

Besides, there is free access in the front of the house if
anyone really wanted to come in uninvited.

Omary, Safi and Asani are standing in the

doorway as she opens, each boy holding Omary’s hands.
Omary gives Bibi a reassuring but tired smile.

She is relieved and overjoyed to have the boys

back home.
109
 But she’s instantly overcome with guilt that she
ever entertained the thought that Omary could be the
deceptive and greedy hunter instead of the God-sent
hero he has proven himself to be time and again.

He is the one the old woman can rely on when

she is sick. He regularly checks up on the family and
makes sure they never lack any necessities. That’s who he
has always been.

Omary pulls the boys forward to stand between

him and Bibi.

She smiles with tears rolling down her wrinkled

cheeks and goes forward to hug both boys
simultaneously.

The Masalus are back under one roof again, and

Bibi is not letting go of her boys any time soon.

Juma appears from behind Omary and stands

there in silence.

He is younger than Omary, maybe 30 years old or

so. He is a tall and thin figure. His black and thick
dreadlocks are peeping out of the back of his neck under
a dark blue woollen hat. The rest of his clothing is black:
black short sleeved T-shirt paired with black drawstring
sweat pants.

“We waited in the woods at the top of the hill

until we were sure they were gone,” Omary breaks the
silence.

“Juma saw everything,” he continues as Bibi

releases her tight grip on her boys.

110
 He wants to carry on, but he waits for Bibi to
dismiss the boys to their room.

“Asani, Safi, go get warm in your bedroom while

I talk to Omary and Juma. I will be with you soon,” she
instructs the boys.

The boys obey and march to their room in

silence. There is more light in the house from the rising
sun.

The boys pause at the door of their room upon

seeing the mess on the floor.

Bibi sees them.

“It’s okay. I was looking for something in your

dresser. I haven’t had a chance to clean up yet. We will do
that later, just get into bed,” she says.

They go into the room and get into bed, certainly

not convinced by Bibi’s failed attempt at an explanation.

She goes after them and closes the door behind

them. She then turns towards the living room, motioning
for Omary and Juma to follow her.

The three go through the curtain into the living

room and Omary is taken aback by the view of all the
houses down the hill through the hole where the front
door was.

“Are you okay, Bibi?” he asks.

“I’m fine, my boy. I’m okay,” she responds.

111
 “How are you two doing? How are the twins
doing? Where were you all night?” her concerned voice
can’t get the questions out fast enough before Omary
puts the brakes on the many questions he can sense
coming.

“We are fine. The boys are okay, I think. They

were scared and asked what was happening. All I told
them was that bad men were in the area and we wanted
to make sure they are safe. They didn’t seem satisfied
with the answer, but I didn’t take it further,” he told Bibi.

“Juma was my eyes and ears throughout the

evening. He watched your house from a safe distance
while I took the boys up the hill. He was close by in case
things went wrong with the hunters. You were safe too,
Bibi,” continues Omary.

The old woman is surprised and overwhelmed.

She knows the men are good people, but this information
overwhelms her.

“He came up the hill to meet us when the two

men left, we just had to make sure they were not coming
back before we could resurface,” Omary continues.

“Thank you,” is all Bibi can get out. She slowly

lowers herself onto the couch behind her to absorb
everything.

After a few moments she asks: “How did you

know about this? How did you find out?”

“A few of the fellows at the fish farm saw the

two strangers the day before yesterday. They were
apparently heard talking about their plans while drinking
112
at the bar. Juma got wind of the information and came to
me a few hours before we came here,” he states.

“We thought they would wait until dark to strike

and the best thing would be to keep watch for a few
hours until it was dark before taking the boys to safety. It
is something we have always known would probably
happen, Bibi. Although we couldn’t say when or how, we
have always been waiting and watching,” he says in a
comforting tone.

“We will be back later to fix the door, Bibi,”

Juma finally breaks his silence. Even though he has lived
close to the family, he is not as close to them as Omary is.

“Thank you,” she says.

“I know you probably want the boys as close to

you as possible, but I think tonight they should spend the
night at my house, just to make sure the men don’t come
back and find them here. You are also welcome, of
course. Just think about it today,” offers Omary.

*****

The hunters lurk in the Mwanza night, not knowing which

direction to take now that the intended targets are
nowhere to be found.

Their night concludes in the same drinking hole it

started in. Neither one wants to make the call back to the
mganga and relate the details of how a sure hunt turned
bad. They don’t know how it happened.

The bar is in a corner building right on the beach.

It looks an old corner general store, in desperate need of
a few fresh coats of paint. There are wooden bench-table
113
sets along the wrap-around veranda. The same furniture
is scantily placed on the inside, which is surprisingly full
for a week night.

The criminal pair settles on sitting outside at the

second last of the bench sets on the left of the bar’s
entrance. Each man takes his jacket off and places it on
the bench. They both sit on the far end of their benches
to lean on the steel rail wrapped around the building’s
columns.

The lighting outside is slightly worse than the

weak bulbs lighting the inside, which is helpful for the
duo who would rather hide than be on display.

But their dodgy duty is of no consequence in this

space.

Working and unemployed men alike have

descended on the establishment to let go of all their
day’s stresses with other men who have the same goal.

It’s now after 11pm and they’ve been through a

few bottles of beer. Most of the patrons are a drunken
mess. For some reason, the mood is sombre, which the
pair fits well into after their unsuccessful hunt.

The cellphone sitting among the piling bottles on

the table threatens them with every glance.

They say nothing to each other, not knowing

where to begin.

The phone rings and it takes a few seconds for

the braver, or the less drunk of the two, to answer.

“Hello,” the short man answers.

114
 “You’ve been silent all night,” the tall musty guy
can hear the mganga’s angry voice through the phone.

“We had a problem. We’re still trying to figure

out the way forward,” he gets out of his bench and walks
to the dusty parking lot for privacy.

Musty man knows this conversation will not end

well. He pushes his beer bottle to the middle of the table
and places his folded forearms in front of him on the
table.

His head lands on his arms, hoping their problem

will be gone when he comes back up.

*****

On the other end of the line the mganga cannot believe

what he’s hearing. This was such a clean-cut undertaking
that nothing of this nature should have had the chance to
happen.

What is he going to tell his client?

He forgets his power as a mganga and his human

fear kicks in.

The power and influence that Michael is gaining,

and obviously seeking, makes him a formidable force in
town. He could make the lives of those who cross him, or
don’t come through for him, very difficult.

He wastes no time getting in touch with him. At

least that way he can’t be at fault for sleeping on such
important information.

*****

115
It is strange for Michael’s phone to ring at this hour. He
wakes up anticipating bad news from the caller.

He grabs the phone, springs out of bed and

walks out of the bedroom to answer it.

“Hello?” he hasn’t looked who the caller might

be.

The caller waxes into a long speech to the very

silent Michael.

“What?” he takes no care to keep his voice

down.

“How can this happen? I thought your men know

what they are doing? Bloody amateurs!” he gives the
mganga no time to respond before hanging up.

He charges back into the bedroom and switches

on the light sitting on his side table. Both his and the light
on the opposite side table switch on.

The room is surprisingly sparsely furnished, but

the furniture is big, so is the room. A chair sits on the far
side of the room, close to the right corner. The dressing
table is to the left of the door to the en-suite bathroom
on the left.

“Wake up, Laila. Wake up!”

Laila is already awake from the loud phone

conversation. She sits up in the bed and adjusts her eyes
to the light.

“What is it,” she’s more irritated than scared of

Michael’s angry tone.

116
 He walks around the bed to her side of the bed
and stands over her.

“You’re going to tell me what’s going on and

now. Apparently the boys you claim to know from your
village are a thing of the past because someone got to
them before we could. What the hell is going on here?
You better not have tipped them off!” he points the
phone at her.

“What do you mean? I haven’t spoken to anyone

from home since I left,” she tries to defend herself.

“Then how did this happen?” his voice is getting

louder.

He walks to the end of the bed and faces the

window.

She kneels on the bed.

“I don’t know, I had nothing to do with whatever

is going on,” she tries to match his volume.

“The mganga says someone took the boys, but I

doubt they were taken by other hunters,” he seems to be
coming back to his senses. He quickly shifts from anger to
trying to understand what happened.

He turns his focus to Laila.

“You know something. I don’t buy it that this is

just a coincidence. The timing of this whole thing is no
coincidence. You’re going to tell me what you know
about this,” he throws the phone on the bed and gets a
firm grip on her shoulders.

117
 He has a look on his face that Laila has never
seen before. She’s never been fearful of him like she is
right now.

Michael is determined to get to the bottom of

this.

“I have something to tell you,” she can’t think of

anything to say to escape.

“Of course you do,” he loosens his grip.

“I know the family. I know I made you think that

they are just people I know from a distance. They are my
family,” she says.

He’s taken by surprise.

“I was married in my early twenties and I gave

birth to twin boys just after my husband died. I couldn’t
handle it when they were born albino. That’s why I know
about them.”

He moves away from the bed slowly and sits

down on the chair against the wall.

She sits on the edge of the bed directly across

from him.

“I left Mwanza to start a new life, and met you

right away,” she continues.

“You lied to me,” he says looking straight at her.

“I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell you. What would you

have done if I told you then, ha?”

They are both calm.

118
 “Why does that matter now, you should be
worried about what I’m going to do now,” he says coldly.

She’s shocked by his statement.

“You left your children behind and started a new

life somewhere else. As if that wasn’t bad enough, you
made them an offering, to me, so you can have an even
better life,” he shifts forward in the chair, touching knees
with her.

She has no rebuttal. She feels embarrassed and

scared now that she’s forced to confront her truth.

He grabs her chin with his right hand, his face

just inches away from her face.

“You better make sure you never get pregnant.

You hear me?”

She balances on the bed with her hands as he

shoves her face back. He gets up and walks around the
bed to his side.

I’ve been making sure of that for the last decade.

She’s not sure if she should also recline as he

lowers himself onto the pillow.

Once he’s flat on his back, she goes down and

they both lie back looking up at the ceiling.

“I’m going to give you another chance. You’re

going to find those boys. We have a lot of work to do
going forward. We are going to need them again in the
future. Make sure you don’t mess this up again. For now,
119
we’ll have to look elsewhere,” he says before switching
off the side lamp.

She escapes his wrath this time.

Her only saving grace is that he knows he will

need to revisit Mwanza for bigger fortunes in the future.

*****

After a few hours, Bibi wakes the boys to eat. It is almost

noon. The boys never sleep in this late.

She has a hearty lunch prepared for them to

make up for the missed breakfast and the terrifying night
before.

After washing up, they change out of their

pyjamas into T-shirts and shorts they pick out of the heap
of clothing on the floor. They are lured into the kitchen by
the smell of food coming into their room, the same smell
that prompted them to get ready quicker than they
usually would.

They enter the kitchen, Asani ahead of Safi. Bibi

breaks into a soft giggle upon a close look at their faces
and their exposed legs.

Without taking real notice of Bibi’s amusement,

the boys go straight to the table laid out with some of
their favourites: plantains, fried fish, a few vegetables
and meat.

Only then do they remember that they forgot to

greet Bibi.

120
 “Good morning, Bibi,” Safi says before Asani
echoes.

“It’s not morning anymore, but it is a good day,”

she says with a smile.

The boys take a look at each other and realise

what Bibi must have been giggling about.

“You have red dots all over your face,” Asani

tells Safi.

“So do you,” he responds.

After the recent rains and the heat of the night

before, the boy’s night out in the elements made for a
royal feast for the mosquitoes in the woods.

Bibi, however, savours the sight of her polka dot

boys.

*****

Albino hair fetches a good enough amount of money to

motivate people to do unmentionable things to get out
of poverty or make themselves formidable forces in the
human tissue trade. The human tissue black market is
something that no one talks about but is where waganga
source their ingredients from.

There is nothing many albinos can do about the

risk of having their limbs hacked off or being killed, other
than keeping their ears on the ground to stay ahead of
hunters.

121
 Omary thinks it prudent to make sure the boys
are even less attractive as possible targets for at least
one part of their body.

Like clockwork, Bibi wakes the twins early on the

second Saturday of the month to take the short walk to
Omary’s house.

After they get dressed and have bread or

porridge for breakfast, she picks up her over-handled
copy of Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart that sits on the
kitchen counter by the armchair. She rereads the few
books she has because she doesn’t have the resources to
build up a library. In fact, she got many of the books years
ago when a charity mobile book drive came around to
give the community a few books, many of them
European and American.

Safi gives her hand a quick glance because of

how many times Bibi has read that book.

She ushers them out through the kitchen door

and locks the door behind them, sliding the key into one
of her dress pockets. The three set off with Bibi walking
behind them.

Omary lives two houses down to the right of the

Masalu house. With no fences in between the houses,
and with the friendly relationship between neighbours,
the Masalu trio easily make their way through the back of
the yards on the thin path worn out by feet.

He’s already standing outside his house, with

two chairs from the kitchen in front of him facing out. He
stands behind one holding his brown leather strop in one
hand and his trusted silver blade in the right, gliding it up
122
and down the strop to sharpen for his task as the barber
for the morning.

He is in his home clothes because he has no work

today. Black seems to be his favourite colour, so the
black tracksuit pants and black T-shirt are no surprise. On
his feet is a pair of black handmade leather sandals.

He doesn’t look up even though he can hear the

Masalus approaching.

“Morning, Omary,” Bibi is the first to greet him.

“Morning, Bibi,” he looks up and offers the old

woman a soft smile.

The two move towards each other and gently

hug.

She takes the chair closest to the kitchen door,

leaning against the wall.

“Hi, boys,” Omary says cheerfully.

“Morning, mjomba,” the boys respond together.

Omary taps the back of the chair signalling his

readiness.

“So, who’s first?” he asks.

“I was first the last time, you go,” Asani

volunteers his brother, who obliges with no argument.

Asani runs to the trampoline about five metres

from where the others are.

123
 “Don’t worry, I’m going to take long shaving his
head so you can have a good amount of time on the
trampoline,” Omary whispers to Safi.

Safi bows his head for Omary to start. He can’t

wipe the little smile on his face.

124
 The Maze

I am falling into a pit of darkness. Endlessly falling.

The landing is hard, on a surface I don’t recognise.

It’s solid but I sink into it a little. I lie on my back and try to
find my bearings. But I can’t because it’s so dark.

Colour dips in from the top, one pixel at a time.

Blue – everything is blue, except for my hands and

my white clothing. As I inspect my body from head to toe, I
realise it is covered in its entirety in a snug but flexible
white body suit, the only exposed parts being my white
hands.

I’m wearing goggles over my eyes.

I wonder how I’m breathing through the suit over

my nose and mouth, but I’m breathing fine. I can’t move
125
my head to look around, I can only see above and ahead of
me. The walls of blue have no end above me.

I feel around with my naked hands. The air is cool

but stale. The surface I’m lying on is soft and dry and feels
cool through my suit. It’s sand. Grains of dry white sand slip
through my fingers.

The upper part of my body lifts up as if I’m being

pulled by some force. I lift all the way up until I’m standing
firm on the sand.

My eyes crane up and I slowly spin around to grasp

what I’m seeing.

I stand in awe of the columns and columns of blue

around me.

The columns are made of walls of clear blue water.

Tiny ripples against the surfaces of the walls begin to form
as I make sense of my surroundings.

My head involuntarily tilts up and I see there is no

end at the top of the walls, and eventually the walls and
the sky are one.

I do not understand my surroundings but the

supernatural beauty I see makes me feel at ease.

I look down again and see three men who look

identical at the end of the passage to my left. They are tall
and dark. They are athletically built and have an imposing
presence. They have the most handsome, but
expressionless faces, as if designed by hand.

They seem like a robotic unit. When one moves,

the other two echo in an almost synchronised manner.
126
 The trio moves towards me and after three steps,
all reach under the left side of their black leather coats with
their right hands and pull out big silver machetes. As they
walk their strides become bigger.

I hear a roaring gush from a distance but I don’t

know where it’s coming from or exactly what it is.

Seeing danger from the machete-wielding trio

headed my way, I turn around and start to run in the
opposite direction. The sound gets louder as I go. I continue
even though I still can’t tell where the noise is coming from.
I just know that definite danger is coming from behind me,
and fast.

I pass a few corners on both sides and opt for the

clearest open path ahead.

I turn around to see if the gap between me and

the murderous three is opening up and I see them split. The
middle guy comes straight towards me while the other two
turn the corners on their respective sides.

The man behind me makes no effort to increase

his pace, but the gap between us is narrowing.

I turn the next corner to the left and keep running.

The noise is so loud it sounds like it’s coming from all
directions, including from above.

Another turn, this time to the right, does nothing

to dial down the noise. The corridor is long and the walls of
water become more active than the calm wave I first saw. I
keep running.

The source of the gushing sound dawns on me. In

front of me, a mass of rushing water is moving towards me.
127
 About two steps ahead to my right there is a
slipway to another passage. Do I take it and possibly get
trapped and drowned by the water rushing towards me?

Do I go back the way I came and run back into the

hands of my enemies?

I take the slipway and see one of the men appear

at a distance, heading in my direction.

The walls become violent and I panic. I can’t go

back but I can’t continue forward.

The third man turns right onto the same passage

and walks towards me as if he can see through the walls
right to where I’m standing. Behind him the second guy is
now much closer.

The three approaching chasers are closing in on

me from both sides and I stand still, not knowing what to
do.

They reach me at the same time and they throw

down the machetes to free their hands to capture me. Just
then, the walls of water rupture and all of us are swept up
by the violent waves.

I effortlessly swim away and up, escaping the men

as they simultaneously struggle to catch me and fight not
to drown.

I become one with the raging water.

Like I was made for the water, I glide up through

the water until I break the surface.

128
 Asani gasps heavily as he violently wakes from
his strange dream. He sits up, looks around and slowly
settles back into reality. His breath begins to slow down
as he calms down.

He sees Safi sound asleep at the foot of the bed,

which makes Asani feel the comfort he lacked moments
before.

129
 Albino Island

The boys are thirteen years old now. It’s been a

tense few years since Omary and Juma had to take them
up the hill to escape the hunter.

They stay on high alert.

Omary gives Bibi and the boys panic buttons to

keep in their bedrooms so they can alert the neighbours
when something threatens their safety.

The buttons come in handy on a Sunday evening

when all the neighbours are winding down the weekend
and getting ready for the week ahead.

As Bibi and the twins wrap up dinner, they hear

the front door handle rattle violently. They know nobody
that lives among them would do that, especially knowing
the family’s safety concerns.

130
 Bibi hurries to her bedroom to sound the alarm
while the boys make their way out of the back door.

The front door busts open and three strangers

run into the house. They immediately go through to the
kitchen, where the only lit candle is and see that the back
door is open.

Halfway towards Omary’s house, in the middle

neighbour’s backyard, the boys meet with Omary. He has
a hand gun in his hand and no shoes on.

“Where’s Bibi?” Omary shouts.

“She’s still in the house,” Safi says.

Omary steers them behind him but hesitates to

go to where the danger is.

The owner of the house hears the commotion

outside and comes out. When he sees Omary and the
boys, he goes back into the house and comes back out
with a shotgun.

Three men come out of Bibi’s house and walk

towards them. The smallest one of them has an axe in his
hand.

The neighbour moves towards Omary to create a

wall in front of the twins. He aims his gun at them and
cocks it.

The three men also form a wall, one of the other

two pulling out a gun as he gets into position.

Omary aims his gun at them.

131
 “Gentlemen, you are trespassing. You need to
leave this place now before anyone gets hurt,” the
neighbour says.

“This is not your business!” shouts one of the

men.

“You are not touching either one of these boys,”

Omary says.

The man with the gun moves forward one step.

The neighbour’s gun goes off and hits the man in

the stomach. His gun falls to the ground as the man
collapses. The neighbour cocks his gun again.

The unarmed man moves forward as well, and

Omary shoots him in the leg.

“Put the axe down,”Omary tells the only

unharmed man.

He throws the axe down.

The neighbour’s wife comes out.

“Where’s Bibi,” she asks.

“She’s still in the house,” Asani says.

Juma appears from behind and joins Omary.

“Turn around and get on your knees,” Omary

says to the man who had the axe.

He obeys.

132
 “Asani, go with mama May to check on Bibi,”
Omary says.

The two walk around the action and head to

Bibi’s house.

She’s still on the floor where the three invaders

left her when they pushed through her house, and her, to
catch the twins.

“Are you okay, Bibi?” They help her up.

“I’m okay. Where’s Safi?” she asks them.

“He’s with Omary. He’s fine,” Asani says.

Omary and the other men subdue the men and

call the authorities.

“Bibi, you have to stay at my house tonight. The

damaged door will be fixed tomorrow,” Omary says.

“That’s fine. Thank you,” she sounds defeated.

Omary can see the strain this is taking on her.

*****

The boys grow up fast, or the years go by really fast, Bibi

can’t tell.

Soon they are seventeen years old and as tall as

bamboo shoots. The boys’ father was a tall, lean man,
traits they inherited from him.

They are also an energetic and athletic pair,

which Bibi cannot contain for much longer. Most boys are
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balls of natural energy, ready to bounce off any and every
surface imaginable. This pair is no different.

The boys often wait for the sun to start setting

before they venture out into the back yard to let off
some steam – both because of what the unforgiving heat
of the afternoon sun would do to their skin and to stay
hidden from the hunters lurking in the shadows.

They do not go unnoticed though. The few

visitors to the area readily attach sinister motives for the
boys venturing out in the dark.

The assumption is that voodoo activities must be

the motivation for their nocturnal tendencies.

This coupled with their alleged supernatural

qualities make the boys easy gossip fodder.

As the boys grow older, so does Bibi.

Her energy to rear teenage boys is fast

disappearing. And so is her ability to keep them
contained and safe.

She is also limited and running out of academic

material to teach the boys because of her own limited
education and resources. They can’t keep only reading
and doing basic mathematics forever.

Every now and then Omary visits Bibi for the sole
purpose of checking how she is doing concerning the
boys’ care, and if they aren’t driving her crazy just by
being boys.

134
 Omary’s own two children are grown ups and
have already left the nest, so he concerns himself with
the boys’ care almost as he would his own children.

It is him who seems to think a step or two ahead

of Bibi on the long-term plans to ensure that Safi and
Asani make it to adulthood relatively unscathed.

But any conversation or plan concerning their

safety never involves the two boys.

Bibi has always felt protective over their feelings

about the stigma attached to their albinism.

And the best way she knows how to deal with

that is not to address it at all with them, which leaves the
boys unprepared in the most crucial moments.

*****

Bibi is at a loss about how to keep the boys safe moving

forward. She has no will anymore. Her body is not
cooperating either.

She knows the time is fast approaching when the

tall teenagers will have to take care of themselves, but
she is now keenly aware that she has not prepared them
to get the job done. All the sheltering and caring she did
for them was almost too much. She and Omary did not
involve them in any of their plans, so she does not trust
that they will survive without ‘adult supervision’.

Sleep does not come as easily these days,

whether from old age or worry.

135
 She lies awake mulling over ways to keep her
beloved boys safe and to ensure they have a chance at
some sort of life into adulthood.

Our lives have been controlled by one mganga or

another, and we have been helpless for years. Defenceless
for too long.

Whatever we do would have to be bold, it has to

stand toe to toe with the weapons waganga would use to
reel in the boys.

Night after night she wrecks her brain for the

big, bold plan. She’s seeking a plan that would see a
permanent solution to the seemingly permanent
problem.

Sudden hope rises in her when she has an

epiphany: why not use the very tools that have been
threatening us all these years to win this battle?

Why not find our own mganga to solve the

problem…at the source?

A mganga can help us by using the very methods

our enemies apply. He can give us potions to eradicate the
threat. He can cast spells to control the threat. He can use
his magic to defeat the threat.

This would guarantee that the boys can openly live

among their people, with confidence in the weapon against
the threat to their lives. They now have an out.

Yes, that’s what I’ll do. That’s what will save them.

136
 She goes through the list in her head of things
she needs to put in place to make a success of this. A list
of all the people she can rope in to help her.

Do I tell the boys what I’m planning, or do I impose

my plans on them like I’ve always done?

Would we want to use the very people who have

been threatening us all these years? What choice do we
have?

Which mganga can we trust? Who would betray us

for their own benefit?

Will the twins be eternally attached to tradtional

medicine because of this? What am I teaching them about
how to fight life’s battles?

Would I be walking the boys into the very danger

I’m trying to protect them from?

Can I trust anyone? Should I?

She has no definitive answers for any these

questions.

Hope dissipates when she realises the risk is

bigger than any solution that may come out of this.

Doom is their destiny, all of them. Regardless of

where the boys end up, she will be in despair with them,
as always.

*****

To keep the twins safe going forward, they have to keep

a good distance ahead of the hunters.

137
 However, they have to come up with a plan that
would to be longer term than just ‘hide and seek’ to
escape that next hunt.

Even if down the road another plan would

replace this next one, at least the breaks between the
escape plans would be bigger. That’s at least less stress
on the already aging and stressed Bibi.

*****

Omary works for a coffee merchant as his right hand

man. His boss is a frequent traveller in and around
Tanzania. This necessitates a reliable and trustworthy
man to take care of business when he cannot.

His job requires him to do a little travelling. He

mostly travels within the Mwanza region, but he goes to
Ukerewe Island every now and then.

The island is in Lake Victoria.

The island bustles with tourists and has a few

high end coffee shops and hotels that his boss supplies
with coffee.

He hardly has time to explore the island, but

once in a while he takes walks in the more hidden parts of
the island, where the tourists do not go, just to get a
taste of the surroundings.

On one such walkabout, he notices there are

more albino people on the island than he has seen in any
one place, and his curiosity prompts him to dig deeper
into what may be going on here.

138
 He stumbles upon a home run by John Kihiri,
whose life’s work is educating and caring for children and
adults living with albinism, who have no other place to
go. He runs the home on the island.

John never turns away anyone who comes

knocking at his door because he knows it could be a life
or death situation. He knows this too well himself, having
had to escape his own hell at the hands of his own
mother.

Omary contacts John, and when he hears of the

Masalu boys’ circumstances and Bibi’s plight, he opens
his home to them.

*****

Omary’s reach is wide in Mwanza, so getting the boys to

Ukerewe Island, or Albino Island as some locals call it,
undetected is a task he is up to. Although the pressure of
keeping them safe makes him a little nervous, he has a
plan in place.

Bibi prepares the twins for their departure,

making sure they have everything they will need. She
slowly stocks up on supplies so they lack nothing for at
least a few months.

She has known for the past few months and has
prepared herself for when they would leave her.

But she neglects to prepare them. She waits for

the last moment – a few days before they are to leave –
to involve them in hers and Omary’s plan.

The twins can see something is going on when

Omary shows up on a Sunday afternoon when he gets
139
back from church. He’s dressed in a dark grey suit, white
shirt and black tie. His once shiny shoes are now dusty
from the walk between church and home.

His detour is certainly unusual because he keeps

Sundays for himself and his family.

“Hello, mjomba.” They’ve perfected the greeting

harmony.

The pair is stuffed from the big lunch Bibi made

earlier. They are sitting, almost falling asleep really, under
the big African Blackwood tree in the backyard when
Omary shows up. Over the years each boy has created a
comfortable nest for himself between the big roots
exposed above ground.

Their bottoms have slowly shaped the ground

under them and they sink into them and lean against the
thick stem.

The tree has become comforting to them.

The shade is thick and on a good day the breeze

feels like they are under a fan.

“Hello, boys. Is Bibi around?”

Safi slowly gets up to go inside the house ahead

of Omary to find Bibi. He knows his cheeky brother will
never offer to be the first to get out of his comfy seat if
he’s around to do it. He usually obliges to avoid
confrontation, and to appease Bibi.

Omary walks slowly behind him, savouring the

moment because he knows it’s coming to an end soon.
140
He’s been with this family from the beginning and he
can’t imagine what their future will be like going forward.

But he knows they will have no future if nothing

changes. If they stay, they will remain victims.

Safi goes into Bibi’s bedroom. Her door is almost

always open during the day. The boys know better than
to walk in when it is closed in case she’s bathing or
doesn’t want to be disturbed for another reason.

“Bibi, Omary is here to see you,” he says,

standing on the left side of the bed close to her head.

She’s almost asleep.

She notices that the childish, high pitch Safi used

to have in his voices is now long gone. She has known the
twins are growing up but the base in their voices means
her boys are no longer boys.

This is particularly noticeable now because of the

many times they’ve stood in that very spot to get her
attention. This time, Safi is much taller, and sounds
different.

Once Bibi has slowly raised herself from the bed

and into the kitchen, she finds Omary sitting on the one-
seater close to the boys’ room, and Safi leaning against
the table at the end close to her bedroom door. The boy
stands there as if he is expectant of the adults to include
him in whatever conversation they are about to have.

Omary stands up out of respect for her.

“Safi, give us some privacy, please,” Bibi’s firm

and soft request gets no resistance from him as he goes
141
back to his resting spot under the tree outside. His rest is
more anxious when he finds himself preoccupied with
the secrecy between Bibi and Omary.

“Omary, how are you doing today?” Bibi focuses

on her visitor.

“I’m fine, Bibi. How are you? You look tired. Is

the heat getting to you?” he asks with genuine concern.

“When does it not get to me? You’d swear I

wasn’t born and raised in this heat. But I’m certain it gets
worse as I get older,” she walks towards the living room.

The old bead divider is gone after years of wear

and tear and the boys’ careless hands. The doorway now
stands bare, brightening the house and giving it an open
feel.

Omary follows her into the room.

Bibi sits on the long couch, at the end close to

the front door. Omary is restless on his feet and opts not
to sit.

“It looks like we are ready to make the move,

Bibi. Everything is in place to move the boys without too
much detection, so we just need to get them ready and
moving before something else happens,” he says, trying
not to sound nervous or pushy.

“What have you arranged?” Bibi asks.

“I would rather not tell you the details. But I

have spoken to friends who have agreed to help take
them to Ukerewe Island. A school that is also a home
there is where they will go. A few albino people live and
142
are cared for at the home. I have spoken to the owner
and he is ready to accommodate them. The important
thing is to get them out of the house undetected. We
can’t have anyone figuring out they are being slipped
away to a secret location.”

“Can you trust these people?” she makes no eye

contact with him. There is dread behind the vacant look
in her eyes.

Omary walks to the window and looks out.

“I do trust them. They are good people,” he

turns to look at Bibi.

“We have no choice but to trust someone, Bibi.

Otherwise we can never adequately keep them safe.
You’d be pleasantly surprised how many people are the
good guys. Only a few evil, money-hungry and fearful
people are the problem,” he continues.

“Those are the few who have made our lives a

living hell, and will keep it going for many years to come,
if the twins survive that long,” she says. The lump in her
throat obstructs the words.

Omary’s heart breaks for her.

“Would I be able to get in touch with them once

they are on the island?” Bibi looks him in the eye for the
first time.

“For now, I would say you shouldn’t try

contacting them for a while, in case someone is watching
you. I will make an effort to keep you informed, and once
we know for sure that it’s safe, I will take you to see
them,” Omary reassures her.
143
 Only after she nods does she seem to think
about Omary’s suggestion for a few seconds.

“When do you think this will happen?”

“It has to be as soon as possible. As I said, all the

people involved are ready to get moving, I need to give
them the word once we’re ready,” he says.

“I’ll tell them tomorrow. Let’s do it in three

days,” there’s finality in her voice.

“I’ll come to pick them up on Wednesday

morning.”

There’s sadness in the air as the plans are

settled.

“Do you think it’s selfish of me to take the boys

away? Am I being a bad person? Be honest,” she asks.

He walks over to her and gets on his haunches in

front of her. He reaches for her hands and holds them
tight on her lap.

“Bibi, you are the best kind of mother there is.

Not every mother will sacrifice their lives like you have for
her own children. Not every mother will give her children
a chance at a life, even if it means being separated from
them for an indefinite period of time,” he says.

She smiles slightly and says nothing, but the

stream of tears says it all.

*****

144
“Boys, come into the kitchen. We have to talk,” Bibi calls
out. They are sitting in their bedroom with the curtain
open so they can see the pages of their books.

Asani is on the bed lying on his stomach and

struggling to stay awake for the afternoon reading
session. He’s read Gulliver’s Travels more times than he
cares to count. His forehead is planted on his folded
hands.

Safi is sitting on the floor against the bed,

busying himself with the maths exercises Bibi gave him to
do earlier. His eyes need a break every few minutes. Their
albinism gives them a hard time with the compromised
sight. The light in the room is just right, the lace filtering
out most of its sharpness.

Asani perks up when Bibi calls them into the

kitchen.

“What do you think that’s about?” he asks Safi.

“I don’t know,” Safi says.

Asani gets up from the bed, walks past Safi and

goes into the kitchen.

Bibi sits at her usual spot at the head of the table

close to their bedroom door. Each boy’s seat is across the
table from each other. Bibi separated them a long time
ago to make sure sibling fights don’t make the kitchen
table a war zone at meal time.

He walks across the room behind Bibi to his seat

on the other side of the table.

Safi follows Asani into the kitchen.

145
 “What’s going on, Bibi?” Safi enquires.

She taps her left hand on the table.

“Take a seat, Safi. I have to talk to the two of you

about something,” she says.

Both boys start to worry.

They pull their chairs out and take their seats.

She stares straight ahead so she doesn’t have to

look either boy in the eye when she starts talking without
any effort to sugar-coat the subject.

“It’s getting harder and harder to guarantee

your safety here. I’m growing old and I want you boys to
not be locked up in this house your entire lives,” she
pauses.

Her forearms go up and her elbows rest on the

table. She clasps her hands together before resting her
chin on them.

“Omary and I have arranged for you to go to

Ukerewe Island. There’s a small school and home there
for albino people. I have taught you as much as I know.
They will help you learn more than what I’ve taught you.
They have people on the premises to watch that nothing
happens to you. And you’ll make friends and live your
lives, like you always should have,” Bibi tells them.

The boys’ faces are frozen with astonishment.

Neither saw this coming.

146
 She pauses for a few moments so they can
absorb everything she just told them. It feels like the
longest pause of her life.

Asani clears his throat, breaking the tense

silence.

“What are you talking about, Bibi? You want us

to leave our home?” Asani asks.

“I don’t want you to leave. You have to go so

you can stay safe. And to learn at the school. And to be
able to meet other people. It’s not good for you two to
not be part of the world out there. I don’t want that for
you,” she explains.

Safi clears his throat softly.

Bibi’s hands go down and rest on the table.

“Safi, do you have anything you want to say or

ask?” she asks him.

“Do we have a choice?” Safi objects to Bibi’s

plan.

“We all don’t have a choice here. I don’t want

you to go either but you have to. You will be much safer
there, that’s my number one priority. You boys are grown
up now. You have seen how bad things can get. You have
to think like adults now about your own safety,” she says.

“Who will stay here with you?” Safi asks the old
woman.

“Don’t worry about me, my boy. Omary and

Juma are here to help me if I need help. Just concentrate
147
on staying safe. That’s the most important thing. The two
of you must look after one another, the way we’ve all
looked after each other as a family all these years,” Bibi
instructs them.

“You have to leave in two days. Omary will be

taking you there. Tomorrow we have to get all your
belongings ready,” she tells them.

“So soon? Why so soon?” Safi asks.

“We can’t wait until something else happens. I

can’t guarantee your safety all the time, Safi. We’ve been
trying to find a way and now that we have a solution, we
have no reason to wait,” she says.

“Can we still see you?” Safi asks.

“I don’t know,” Bibi responds.

“Can you visit, or at least see where we are? How

will we know if we will see you again? How will we know
if you are okay?” Asani asks.

“I don’t have the answers to all those questions.

We will have to see what happens once you are on the
island. Omary is the person who can make sure we stay in
touch. But for now, I don’t know how it will work,” she
says.

It becomes silent again.

Bibi gets up from her chair.

She pats Asani softly on the head as she walks

past behind him to her bedroom.

148
 *****

Omary arrives before the sun is up.

Bibi has not slept all night and got up an hour

before the arranged time to make sure the boys are up
and ready to go.

She dreads the thought of saying goodbye to

them. The feeling that she is neglecting them still
tortures her.

She hears Omary walking to her house from the

back and hurries to let him in. She’s overly careful: she
opens for him before he knocks so the knock doesn’t
alert neighbours about their early morning activities.

“Morning, Bibi. Are they ready?” he asks

urgently.

“Yes, they are. Please come in while I fetch

them,” she says.

Omary steps into the kitchen but does not go

further than a few steps into the room.

Bibi heads to the boys’ room. She finds them

sleeping on the bed, fully clothed, with shoes on and
their packed black backpacks next to their bed.

The bags are identical, except for the colours of

the drawstrings to tell them apart. Safi landed his
beloved red but Asani’s blue had to give way to yellow,
the only other available colour.

Omary offered the bags to Bibi, almost as a

parting gift for the boys. He wanted her to have one less
149
thing to worry about because she couldn’t afford to buy
them. He chose backpacks for ease of use, especially for
boys.

She claps her hands to wake them. She avoids

talking because of the tears choking her. She holds them
back with every ounce of strength inside of her.

She’s dreading the goodbyes she knows are

coming, and by the slow movement of the boys, she
knows they are too.

Safi is the first to rise from the bed. He walks to

Bibi and wraps his arms around her as tight as possible
without crushing the old woman. His towering height
covers her and she looks small under his hug.

Asani joins him, and Safi gives way to allow him

his own time with Bibi. She reaches for Safi from under
Asani’s hug and pulls him close. The three stand in
silence, hugging and fighting back tears.

Omary sees this through the open door. This is

tougher than he thought it would be for him too.

The boys finally release their tight grip, gather

their belongings and follow Bibi out of the room.

*****

The three walk in near darkness between houses and on

footpaths to get down the hill to the car parked at the
foot of the hill.

Omary is trying to beat the sunrise, and the boys

have no choice but to chase behind him.

150
 Their luggage feels heavier the further they walk,
and their ankles almost twist under the weight and
because of the uneven dry ground under their feet.

*****

The ferry master is waiting for Omary and the boys

before preparing for the arrival of other passengers. He
meets them at the parking lot section the ferry staff have
claimed for themselves when they arrive around 6am. It’s
a good three hours before the scheduled 9am departure
time for the first of two two-hour trips the ferry will be
making from the main land to Ukerewe Island today. The
four get onto the big red and white ferry and disappear
into the hidden parts only members of staff know about.

The place is dark and smells a little damp. It’s

clearly a storage room. Lots of closed boxes are piled
along the wall in short stacks and what looks like lost
property is strewn about the room. A piece of naked floor
was cleared from the door to the middle of the room so
there’s walking space to enter the room.

Omary stays with the boys when the master

goes to his post. He feels bad that this is what the twins
have to deal with to survive, not necessarily for a much
better life than they know, but for mere survival.

He says nothing to them about what the plan is

going forward. They don’t ask him either, although they
wish they knew.

He has a small black leather bag securely slung

over his head and across his chest. He picks a spot in the
mess to get comfortable. He’s conscious of the fact that
mice or rats may have made a home behind the boxes
151
and under the clothing, so he shuffles his chosen spot
slightly with his feet to see if anything runs out to hide.

The boys follow suit.

This is the first time the twins ride the ferry. Their
first time and they are in hiding, in the storage room. This
is much like life as they have always known it.

They sit down and get comfortable and

then…wait, and wait.

After a while, movement above them lets them

know the passengers are boarding. Soon, it will be time
to get going.

*****

The trip seems like it will never end, and being in the
damp dark room is starting to get nauseating. They have
been in the boat for more than five hours now, turning
back with it on its return trip.

Omary does not move when the boat docks.

Instead, he takes out his cellphone and looks at the time
before putting it back in his pocket.

The twins wonder why.

“Mjomba, what’s going on?” Asani asks.

They have barely said anything to each other for

much of the morning, but their patience is wearing
thinner by the minute.

Omary chuckles.

152
 “Are you getting as sick of this as I am?” he asks
Asani.

“I think I’m getting sicker of it because I don’t

really know why we are still on the boat when everybody
has disembarked already,” he sounds irritated.

Safi stays out of the conversation but wants the

information as much as Asani does.

“I thought this would be easier than it is. I

thought it would be good to avoid anyone seeing your
move to the island. The plan was to get onto the ferry
before everyone at the start of the day, and get off after
everyone on the island at the end of the last ride. I have
someone on the other side ready to pick you up when we
arrive in Nansio. I have to get back to the mainland back
with the ferry.”

“We have to ride back and then turn around

again with the boat? We can just get off now. I can’t do
this again,” Asani protests.

“Asani, people are always watching and may

come back later if they know where to find you.”

“Who’s picking us up?” Safi opens his mouth for

the first time.

“John Kihiri. He’s the man who’s opened his

home for you. He knows the island very well and thinks
it’s the best place for you. He wants to help. He wants to
make sure you guys get the best protection and the
opportunity for a better life,” Omary explains.

Safi nods.

153
 “I know this must be a pain to deal with, but we
have to stick it out because I can’t change the plan now. I
thought we would be comfortable here. Maybe some
food will make things easier?” Omary flashes them a
smile to try to appease them.

He reaches into his bag and pulls out three

packets with sandwiches of thick slices of brown bread,
cheese and tomato. He throws one each to the boys,
placing his beside him on the ground.

He reaches back into the bag and pulls out three

juice boxes. He does the same with them. The three sit in
silence while they eat.

*****

It will take a while for Safi and Asani to get used to the
traffic in their new home. After years with only two other
people to contend with, the Masalus had developed their
own rhythm as a family.

Now sixteen people share the modest house

with even more modest furnishing. The furniture looks
old, probably donated. But it gets the job done. The
house would otherwise be a hollow cave.

There are several rooms in the house. Most are

used as bedrooms. They are all spacious and have twin
beds in each. Some beds are sandwiched between two
old wooden wardrobes for each occupant’s belongings.

Not all the rooms are furnished. Luckily the boys

take the last room with two unoccupied beds in it. The
only other free bed is in an occupied room.

154
 There’s only one bathroom, with an all-white
porcelain toilet, basin and bath tub set. The walls are bare
cement and no cabinets are installed.

All the lightbulbs in the house are opaque or

colour-tinted because most housemates have
problematic eye sight.

The running of the house is also a structure they

are not used to. It’s run like a boarding house, with John
at the helm.

Everyone in the house has to pull their weight

when it comes to chores, so the house stays in tip-top
shape.

*****

Freedom of movement outside, in the day, is a new

reality, although being too free is discouraged for safety
reasons.

Although the boys had the protection of their

immediate neighbours back in Mwanza, they were
otherwise mystic figures to the rest of the community.
Even though they remain in danger, they feel like they
exist in a more protective but larger cocoon than the one
they grew up in. The island has more people like them,
which is strange to them considering that they knew no
other albino people until now.

Under Bibi’s care, they didn’t go further than

they needed to. That’s how sheltered they were. That’s
what Bibi could handle.

They are initially shy and scared to move freely

and experience the island.
155
 Friends are aplenty, which is foreign to the twins.
All they ever had was each other, and Bibi and Omary.

But the dynamics of relationships with other

youngsters will take time to become normal for them.

Safi, the level-headed one, navigates those

unfamiliar waters with relative ease, while Asani’s don’t-
care attitude makes for clashes with those who don’t
understand him, or don’t want to understand him.

They spend a lot of time at the common hall on

the premises, which doubles as a school and a community
centre of sorts. This is where the youngsters spend their
days during and after school. Volunteer teachers come
daily for classes after their work days are over, so the
home’s school runs for a few hours in the afternoon.

Safi picks up chess and becomes part of the

chess club, while Asani is drawn to the dance crew,
although he is not a dancer. Despite being more of an
onlooker when the dancers show off their moves, he
likes the freedom of movement and individuality each
dancer has.

Now more than ever, he wants to separate

himself from his identity as one half of a pair. Here, his
individualism is celebrated and encouraged.

*****

Since birth, the twins have always been treated as

extensions of each other, and they received the reward
and punishment together and equally, even when not
deserving of it.

That has always been a sticking point for Asani.

156
 Neither one was considered older than the other
because Bibi never divulged which of the twins was born
first.

As a result, Asani decided to assume the position

of seniority over Safi when it suits him. After all, Safi
didn’t seem to covet the position anyway.

Not that the self-appointment mattered as they

grew up. Bibi was only ever interested in maintaining
fairness between the twins. In her eyes, they were equal,
and almost the same, in every way.

Much like the time the boys, at the age of seven,

had been playing outside. Asani found what looked like
an intricately carved wooden disc pendant buried in the
spot he had been digging with a stick in the back yard.

The pendant was round and about three

centimetres across. The wood was dark brown, and the
carvings on it were beautiful and elaborate. One side had
a carving of the head of a giraffe and a carving of African
Blackwood tree on the other. It had a hole through it,
which didn’t touch either one of the carvings.

Safi was close enough to see his brother’s

attempt to hide the little disc from him. He immediately
demanded to see it, as impolitely and forcefully as any
seven-year-old boy would. He wanted to see it, touch it
and know if it is something worth laying equal claim to.

It didn’t take long for a full on physical fight

between the two boys to break out when Asani refused
to share even the sight of his precious find, which made
the normally calm and nonchalant Safi more determined
157
to get his hands on the evidently valuable mystery
treasure.

The ruckus got loud and rowdy enough for Bibi

to come out of the house and separate them.

Upon finding out what the mayhem was about,

she demanded the little disc from Asani. She quickly
inspected it and snapped it into two not-so-equal halves
and gave each boy their share.

Asani never really got over his loss of the

treasure, and to him, Safi was more to blame than Bibi.
Even as the harsh judge, jury and executioner, she was
never really at fault in the boys’ eyes, which only left each
other to lay the blame on.

Some of the tension between the two seeped

into their older years, but their characters seemingly
started changing when they became teenagers. This is
evident especially when Asani tries to assert his
independence.

Safi stayed the rational and calmer one and Asani

lived true to his name and remained rebellious. But Safi’s
responsible manner made him the more dominant of the
two. He’s always ready to rise to the occasion with no
problems when facing challenges, whereas his brother
would rather bury his head in the sand than deal with
anything.

Asani seems to cower into his shell a little more,

his earlier confidence taking a back seat the more knocks
life threw at him.

158
 He is the less happy of the two because of the
strange surroundings they find themselves in on the
island. What others perceive to be an attitude of not
caring is him not knowing how to deal with his feelings.
He feels as imprisoned as ever, even though his
movements are not as restricted as they used to be under
his grandmother’s care. To him, it’s just an exchange of
one prison for another, just with more cell mates
invading the little space he has in the house.

*****

The home has eleven children under John’s care. The

adults living with them look like time has not changed
anything for them.

Miriam, the ‘house mother’ for all intents and

purposes, is lazy. The shade under the big tree outside is
her best companion while she knits heavy and colourful
jerseys she’ll never get to wear in the Tanzanian heat.

She must have made about twelve since the

boy’s arrival many months ago, all of which have done
nothing but pile up like a rainbow stack in her dresser.

Lucas, the ‘security’ guy, does his rounds in and

around the grounds.

The children are old enough to take care of the

bulk of the chores, so they do.

Safi and Asani are part of the young adult crew in

the house with Sonny, Chris and Naomi.

Chris and Naomi decide they are in love and want

to eventually leave the house to get married and start
their own family. It was never evident that they have a
159
romantic connection, even before the surprise
announcement to the people in the house.

It’s widely thought they paired up because they

see no other option for themselves in the world they live
in. What would be the chances of both of them meeting
the love of their lives and living happily ever after? They
may as well create their own ‘happily ever after’ with
someone who can relate.

Naomi bears the physical evidence of being a

victim of hunters, something the boys always managed
to escape before. In her early teens, her left arm was
hacked just below the elbow on the night her family
home was invaded and she was attacked by two
machete-wielding men.

By the time the men had left, there was blood

everywhere in the bedroom she shared with her younger
sister, and her hacked off left arm was gone. The family
couldn’t handle the possibility of more such attacks, so
she was destined for Ukerewe Island. None of her family
members come to see her, a reality many of the home’s
occupants have to live with.

Beside the three ‘middle’ children who are

between nine and eleven years old, the youngest two are
toddlers.

The new arrivals are thankfully here with their

young mothers. The two women are in their early
twenties.

They fled their homes when the babies were still

very small, fearing for the safety of their children. They
160
have created a sisterhood between themselves because
of their similar stories.

The sisterhood does the bulk of the housework

that the children don’t do, in their minds as payment for
their room and board, but not in reality because John
would have never turned them away.

The house runs like a well-oiled machine, despite

the rotation of its occupants. Thankfully, the
government’s financial support ensures John can help as
many people as possible.

*****

Lucy Lyimo catches Safi’s eye the first time he sees her a
few months after moving to the island. She is walking
home after work. He knows this because of the light grey
hotel uniform she is in, and because Chris fills him in
about the pretty girl who lives a few houses from the
home.

Chris is the one person Safi instantaneously got

along with when he first moved into the house. They are
close in age and think a lot alike, so they have very little
to fight about. These may be the same reasons Asani
doesn’t care for him much.

Asani never joins the boys as they people-watch

at the end of the day. He doesn’t see the point of
watching other people move any and everywhere they
please without fear when everyone behind the home’s
gate can’t.

“She is the goal for a lot of guys around here,

but nobody ever gets her,” Chris tells Safi. The two are
161
sitting outside in the front of the house as the sun sets,
just gawking at her as she’s seemingly walking on a long
ramp exclusively for their enjoyment.

Lucy’s name sticks in his mind as Chris gives him

the update on the island’s catch, like he’s commentating
at a show for prized treasures of the island.

She looks good in her uniform and is always

impeccably groomed, with straightened black hair in a
tight bun at the back of her head.

She is beautiful and her chocolate brown skin is

perfect.

She must be the same age as Safi, maybe even a

year or two older. The boy is smitten.

It becomes routine for Safi to come out a few

minutes before her scheduled ramp walk to get his Lucy
fix from a distance.

Although his compromised sight limits his focus

at that distance, he keeps the distance for his own
comfort.

He knows she can see him but he never has

enough courage to face her from close range, let alone
speak to her. And the fact that she never acknowledges
him lets him know he’s doing the right thing by staying
away.

She makes him feel invisible. Like a ghost. Like he

would never be the person she would give any attention
to.

162
 Over time the idea of being invisible to Lucy
becomes real to him, despite the fact that this may just
be a construct of his mind. Gradually, his dedication to
sitting outside to watch her starts to dwindle, until he
stays away altogether.

He is heartbroken because, in his mind, he

doesn’t see himself as anything but an albino and a twin,
not as one half of a romantic couple. For the first time, he
really feels like a curse and he doesn’t see how anyone
would invite a curse like him into their life, especially
someone as beautiful as Lucy. So he keeps his distance to
spare himself possible embarrassment and the heartache
of rejection.

163
 The sting of rejection

About a year after first setting his eyes on Lucy, Safi

decides this is the moment he should get closer to the
most beautiful girl on Ukerewe Island.

He thinks he has no chance with her, but he

would never know until he does something about his
feelings, other than look at her from a distance.

Chris is his biggest cheerleader. In fact, it is upon

Chris’s encouragement that Safi sees the possibility of
speaking to Lucy, even if it only results in a friendship.

He resumes his watching sessions, this time

without Chris. He moves closer and closer to the wire
fence in the hope that over time he will move close
enough to talk to her.

164
 It takes him two weeks to gradually move that
close, while plucking up enough courage to open his
mouth.

But his efforts are thwarted when Lucy starts

walking on the other side of the road, something she
never did before.

Chris’s expert advice is necessary here.

The two like to sit in Chris’s room talking for

hours, and John often allows them to because their
cooperation has earned them a privilege or two in the
house.

Chris is lounging on his single bed, and Safi sits

on the other single bed and leans against the wall.

“I don’t understand what’s causing her to

suddenly change where she walks when passing the
house,” he tells Chris in one of their one-on-one bonding
sessions after dinner.

Chris knows what this could be, and deep down

so does Safi. He just hopes he is wrong.

“I’ll tell you what, there’s no point the two of us

talking about this and coming up with possibilities when
we have no facts. Let me put my feelers out and get back
to you when I know what the deal is. I know someone
who knows someone close to her,” Chris reasons with
him.

“You know someone who could have put us in

touch with her and this whole time you’ve let me admire
her from a distance?” Safi is surprised.

165
 “I wanted you to do your own dirty work, but
since that’s not working, I’ll help you!” he winks at him.

“You’re an idiot,” Safi jokes, and throws the

pillow across the room at Chris.

There’s a lull that neither boy sees the need to

fill.

“What are you thinking?” Chris asks Safi.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“Really, it’s nothing. I was just wondering if Lucy

moved across the street to avoid being near me, that’s
all.”

“That’s not ‘nothing’,” Chris says and sits up to

mirror Safi across the room.

“I hope not, but that’s a possibility. This is one of

our realities. Girls are going to reject us even before they
get to talk to us,” Chris says.

“It’s so unfair,” Safi’s sadness comes through in

his tone.

“I know.”

*****

“So?” Safi asks Chris.

He hurriedly closes Chris’ bedroom door behind

him.

166
 Chris is in his favourite lounging position on the
bed, this time reading a blue hardcover book. Safi can’t
make out the title written on the spine of the book.

“So what?”

“You know what. It’s been three days. Surely

your informant has some information?”

He sits on the ‘guest’ bed he usually occupies

when he visits Chris.

“My goodness, you make it sound so serious and

official,” Chris says. He bends the top corner of the page
he is on, then closes the book.

“This IS serious. Spill it.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have good news for you, my

friend. The friend came back to me late yesterday and it
seems Lucy is not the girl for you. She apparently had
some unkind words to convey her disdain that someone
like you, like us, would even have the audacity to express
an interest in her. She says you need to stay away from
her,” Chris can’t look him in the eye.

“Are you serious?”

“I’m sorry. I suggest you keep your distance

unless you want her to cause problems for you,” Chris
warns Safi.

“What could she possibly do? Besides, I haven’t

even done anything!” he defends himself.

“I’m just saying. People have been known to

accuse the likes of us of things we didn’t do just to teach
167
us to know our place, and stay there. Even if nothing
comes of it, the damage would have been done.”

Safi feels defeated.

*****

Safi makes it a point to sit outside at least one more time

to see if Lucy could be that evil.

She walks past and is walking close to the house

again. She pointedly makes eye contact with him this
time, a sort of warning to say: ‘I hope you got the
message!’

He got it loud and clear.

168
 Blast from the past

The day is not unlike any other. The administration of a

business, even one as small as ‘Jack and the coffee bean
stalk’, is a necessary part of running a business.

But this wouldn’t end like any other day.

It’s noon. The sun is blazing hot and the breeze

from the lake doesn’t ease Omary’s discomfort in this
kind of heat. In fact, the humidity makes it worse.

The white button-down shirt and black suit pants

feel heavy, and sweat is starting to leave tracks along the
back where his body and the chair meet.

Paperwork is the last thing he wants to do right

now, and he is about to get temporary relief from the
agony by taking his lunch break.

169
 Unexpectedly, the cleaned-up, sophisticated and
slightly older version of the girl Omary used to know
steps into the office at the back of the establishment. She
knocks on the white door frame and stands just a step
into the room as if waiting for an invitation to enter.

Omary hadn’t heard her coming through the

front door and the front room where he usually meets
customers in the small coffee store. He hadn’t hear her,
despite the loud knocks on the cement floor from the
sky-high black patent leather heels she’s wearing.

He looks up at the door above the pen in his left

hand.

It takes him a few seconds to place her because

all the makeup and the hair, the fancy black and white
stripe tea-length dress and the big orange handbag
swinging on her right arm make it hard for him to see
through.

He stands up from his chair behind the desk and

she walks in.

“Lulu?” he’s more shocked than pleasantly

surprised.

She doesn’t correct him about her name.

“Omary, you look good.”

She steps further into the room towards the

chair across the desk from Omary. She places her heavy-
looking handbag in the chair and stands up straight to
face Omary, leaning behind the chair for support.

170
 “It’s been two decades. Where have you been all
this time?” he asks her.

“In Dar es Salaam, getting my life together. It’s

been a long time but I did get my life together, finally.”

“You look like you have managed to do that.”

“It’s been hard work, but I did it. And now I want
to make right the wrongs I’ve done,” she says.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

The two are uneasy around each other. Omary is

suspicious of the sudden and unannounced visit from her,
while she feels as if the sins of her past are all Omary sees
when he looks at her.

“I’m here to see my sons. How are they?” the

question sounds incomplete, like she’s leading
somewhere with it.

“Why have you come here to look for them and

not at home where you left them?”

I guess I deserve that.

“This is my first stop before I go there. I need

some kind of information so I don’t walk in there blindly,”
she says.

“I have not seen them in a while, but I’m sure

they are doing okay. If they were not, I would have heard
something.”

She gives him a look as if to say: “Ha?”

He gets the tacit question.

171
 “I’ve been in touch with them and the owner of
the place they now live in,” he says.

“They live somewhere else?” she’s surprised.

“Yes, circumstances dictated that they move.”

“What circumstances?” she asks.

“The same ones you left them for, Lulu,” Omary

says coldly. Even he’s surprised by his anger towards her.

She gives him an angry look, but quickly softens

her expression to avoid a confrontation.

“Omary, I just want to see my children. Where is

this place they are now living in? Is it far? Don’t you see
them regularly?” she asks.

“It’s not that far, but I don’t go to Ukerewe as

much as I used to. We have a young guy who does most
of the travelling now. I stick more to admin, as you can
see,” he says, pointing at the papers and books covering
the desk in front of him.

She looks down at the desk as if she had not

seen he was doing paperwork when she walked in.

She wonders if he means she interrupted his

work, but says nothing in favour of completing what she
came here for.

She looks back at him, bends over the chair and

picks up the handbag before moving the chair into
position to sit.

Omary sits back down after she’s seated.

172
 “My sons, Safi and Asani?” she picks up the
conversation again, her ‘don’t waste my time’ tone
coming off sharper than she may have intended.

Omary’s eyebrows involuntarily go up.

It doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I know I have not raised them. I haven’t been

around, but I’ve never stopped thinking about them. I’ve
loved them every single day I’ve been away. I’ve stayed
away because I love them. I wanted to make sure that
when I come back to them I will be back for good, and
that I’ll be in a position to give them the best. Which is
why I’m here now,” she says.

Omary doesn’t respond. He’s still shocked by her

presence, and now this declaration that she’s here to
take care of her grown children.

“Tell me, Lulu, what is it that you mean when

you say ‘you will be giving them the best’?” he asks.

“I have to know what they need first. I’m sure I

can pay for the best education, of course. They will lack
nothing,” she responds.

“They are grown men now. They’ve needed that

all their lives. And they are safer and better provided for
now than they’ve ever been. And I’m almost certain they
are happy.”

“I’m not saying they are in a bad position, but I’d

like to be there for them going forward. I’m sure they will
always need a mother, Omary.”

173
 He’s taken aback by her assertiveness and how
well-spoken she is now, things she was not in the past.

“I’m not saying that, I’m just wondering if money

is the only solution at your disposal. But it’s not my place
to judge. They are at a home on Ukerewe. I’ll give you the
address and phone number. You might want to speak to
the owner of the place beforehand so he can prepare
them. His name is John Kihiri,” Omary cautions her.

“Of course.”

He takes out an A4 size sheet of paper from a

tray next to the copier behind him to his right and places
it on the desk. Next to him is a big black address book,
which he opens to the relevant page and copies John’s
details from the book onto the clean sheet.

Laila is silent and watches his hand as it scribbles

on the paper. She’s almost holding her breath in
anticipation.

He folds it in half, then in half again and hands it

to Laila as he gets up from the chair. He’s ready for this
unexpected visit to be over.

“There you go,” he says.

She stands and takes the paper from his hand,

almost too quickly.

“Thank you so much, Omary. This really means a

lot to me,” she says.

“Sure thing.”

174
 He’s noticeably impatient for her to leave the
office.

“I hope to see you again soon. For now, I have to

go to find them.”

She walks towards the door, note in her right

hand and her handbag swinging on the left arm.

She stops before exiting the room.

“Take care, Omary.”

He gives her a faint smile and a nod, to which she

nods back before leaving.

Omary sits and leans back in his chair. He puts his

hands on top of his head, fingers crossed.

Something doesn’t sit well with Omary after the

visit. The girl who pretended to be the old Lulu is a
stranger to him.

She didn’t even ask about her own mother’s well-

being.

*****

Omary makes his turn at the house to check on Bibi after

work.

Bibi says nothing about Lulu visiting her, so he

decides not to mention her return.

He wouldn’t know what to tell her of their

strange conversation.

*****

175
Early in the morning after Lulu’s visit, Omary places a call
to John after spending a sleepless night looping his
conversation with her the day before.

“Omary, is everything okay?” John doesn’t greet

him.

“John. No, everything is okay, I hope I didn’t

wake you?” Omary only then realises why John must
have thought something is wrong. It’s just after six
o’clock.

He takes the cup of coffee he just made to the

front room of his house so he doesn’t wake his wife,
Sarah, or risk her hearing the contents of his conversation
with John. He sits at the furthest armchair from the
kitchen door and places the cup on the coffee table in the
middle of the room. The layout of the house is
surprisingly similar to Bibi’s, besides the indoor bathroom
he added in recent years.

“No, I’ve just woken up. You never call this early.
Are you okay?”

“I think so, I’m just …”

How do I even say this?

“What is it?”

“Well, something strange happened yesterday

and I think I may have put the twins in a dangerous
position. In fact, all of you in that house may be in
danger,” says Omary. The panic in his voice escalates the
more he says it out loud.

176
 John waits for him to finish despite the long
pause.

“Lulu, their mother, came to my work place

unexpectedly yesterday. To cut the long story short, she
told me she wanted to see them and I gave her your
address and phone number. I don’t suppose she called
you?”

“No, she hasn’t. Omary, what’s the problem if

she wants to see her children?”

“There would be no problem if I thought she

really did want to see them. But something is telling me
seeing them is the last thing she wants. I have a really bad
feeling about this, John.”

“I’m not following.”

“I think she has evil intentions for wanting to

track them down, and now that she has information to
access everyone in that house, she may be opportunistic
and harm all of you too,” it makes Omary sick to say it out
loud.

“Is she the type of person to do evil to her own

children?”

“I wouldn’t have thought so until she showed up

yesterday. Something is very cold about her and one or
two things make me question if she’s still the same
person from years ago. We can’t really get into it now.
The reason I called is because I think we need to move
everyone to a safer location, just in case. I hope I’m
wrong, but I’d rather make sure.”

“Where would that be, and when?”

177
 “I don’t know yet. Let me work on that this
morning and I’ll let you know. In the meantime, inform
the adults and get the children as ready as possible
without alarming them. And try to contain them. We
don’t want them stepping out of the house and never
coming back.”

“Okay, call me as soon as you know,” John says.

“Will do. Bye.”

Omary feels the pressure of the task ahead.

*****

It was never a thought that he would one day call on the

same man who helped him take the boys from the
mainland to the island in the cover of darkness, but
Omary finds himself calling him for an even bigger favour
two years later. The urgency and scope of the task means
more of a risk for everyone involved, including the ferry
master.

It’s a risk for him because he could lose his job

for helping Omary with resources that belong to the
company he works for. Before, he only needed to hide a
couple of children on the ferry while he did his job,
delivering them to their destination when the last of the
day’s loads was safely out of sight. He could have easily
pretended not to know they were there if he was caught.

This time, he has to disrupt his schedule and do

things he has no business doing, and who knows when he
would make it back to shore.

But he does not waver when Omary asks him,

knowing the gravity of the situation.
178
 His boss seems satisfied when he tells him he
thinks he may be having slight problems with the ferry’s
engine, so he would rather spend the night on Ukerewe
than risk engine failure in the middle of the lake at night
following the last trip of the day.

Omary shows up at John’s place in the late

afternoon with the ferry master in tow.

They round up everyone and bundle them into

the rental 16-seater white Volkswagen van. Only the two
young mothers are given a chance to pack what their
small children may need over an extended period of time
while the older kids hold the toddlers in the car.

They lock the house, get into the van and set off.

Omary is the front passenger while the ferry

master drives.

As they exit the street, they cross paths with a

black van with tinted side windows.

Omary can see into the van through the front. He

exchanges a look with the passenger in the front. The
man looks angry.

After the cars pass each other, Omary looks back

from the space between him and the driver. He sees the
black van slowing down to make a U-turn.

“I think we’re too late,” he says in a panicked

voice.

“What?” the driver says.

179
 “Look behind us,” he almost whispers to the
driver so the rest of the van’s occupants don’t hear.

The driver looks in the rear view mirror. He

instinctively steps on the accelerator to create distance
between the two cars.

Omary looks back, so does everyone else. They

can see the van behind them, even through all the dust
created by their vehicle.

“Who is that?” Asani asks.

“The men we are running away from. But we

may be too late,” Omary says.

The hunters are putting up a desperate fight to

catch up.

Omary looks back again.

The passenger from the black van has half his

torso out of the window. He’s holding a gun, trying to
perfect his aim at their vehicle.

The gun goes off. The bullet hits the brake light
on the right side of the white van.

Loud screams from the women fill the van. The

driver brakes hard and Omary stops himself from hitting
the dashboard with his left arm. Everyone at the back
jerks back and forth.

The hunters are forced to also brake. They veer

off the road and hit a car parked on the side as they lose
control of their vehicle.

180
 The white van speeds off, makes a quick turn left
and gets on a tar road. He makes another quick turn
right.

The chasing van is not in sight.

“Let’s hide the van somewhere close by and

walk the rest of the way through the forest. I know this
place better than most people. We can hide better that
way,” John says.

“We can’t be on foot, they will catch us,” one of

the young mothers says.

The younger kids look alarmed but stay calm.

“I agree with John. If we are on foot they’ll have

a harder time catching us all,” says the driver.

“Okay, find a place closest to the forest so we

don’t have to walk too far,” Omary says.

A short distance later, they come to an

abandoned junk yard. The gate is open, so they park and
disembark once inside the yard.

The young boys keep looking behind them as

they walk to safety. The hunters are not visible.

As they enter the forest, the moisture locked in

between all the trees after the hot day makes the group
feel like they are walking through evaporating steam.

The sun is almost setting and Omary starts to

panic that they are taking too long to reach the ferry. He
doesn’t know exactly how long the rushed hike out of the
forest will take.

181
 The two mothers keep up, each with a baby
secured on their back.

They can’t walk any faster than they are already

walking.

The darkness is getting lighter as the forest

comes to an end. They walk a short distance after exiting
the forest to get to the ferry.

The ferry master rushes to his station to get the

group out of there as quickly as possible, while the rest of
them regroup.

The group splits into groups once they are

settled in: the adults sit inside with the small children,
while the older kids have make-believe camp on the deck
of the boat. They watch the sunset and eventually the
stars.

The master takes the ferry out far enough not to

see dry land, then kills the engine to float in the lake. He
has to keep watch so they don’t float too far off. Besides,
wherever the ferry goes has to accommodate the
amount of fuel they have because they can’t refuel until
he gets back to the mainland the next day.

Hunger nags them, but they dare not complain

because they know the risk it took just to get them to
safety. Complaining about hunger seems trivial under the
circumstance. So they don’t.

Eventually everyone falls asleep, except for

Omary and John. They take turns doing the rounds to
make sure everyone is accounted for at all times and
doing okay. And that the boat is still in the same place, or
182
close to where it’s supposed to be, marking their location
by distant trees to the left of the boat.

“This could have turned out really bad for

everyone if we left a minute later,” John takes the
opportunity to corner Omary.

The only other noise is of the soft waves

slapping the outside of the boat. They stand at the
window furthest from everyone sleeping in the
uncomfortable chairs.

“I know. We are still not safe. This escape only

confirmed to them where to find us. I have someone
watching. They will tell us via text if there’s movement at
the house,” he says.

“If the twin’s mother left them so long ago, why

would she be back now to harm them?”

“The woman who came to my office is drastically

different from the young girl I last saw almost twenty
years ago. She may have left because she didn’t have the
guts to do then what she now intends to. It may be for
money, who knows,” Omary says.

John looks out onto the water from the window.

“If I didn’t grow up fearing for my own life after I

survived being poisoned by my own family for being
albino, I would wonder what kind of mother would do
that to her own children,” John says.

Just then a message comes in on Omary’s phone.

He takes the phone out of his right pocket and reads it
while John anxiously looks on.

183
 “Is it him?” John asks.

Omary nods while still reading. He lets out a

heavy breath, but he avoids looking up at John.

“What is it?” asks John.

“He says six men just went into the house and
four of them had machetes. He can’t tell if the machetes
are the only weapons they have because three of the
men have backpacks,” Omary says.

John gasps.

“Look, we knew this is the type of thing we were

running from. Just thank God that we are here on the
boat in peace instead of the bloodbath we could have
been in,” Omary comforts him.

“They’ll just come back another time, even if the

boys are gone. They know where to find us,”

“I know. I think we should seriously talk about

finding another place, or improving security. I do think
that the boys need to go elsewhere though. I will work
on that as soon as everyone is safe here,” Omary reasons
with him.

“I’ll talk to the authorities tomorrow to tell them

about this, they will assist,” John says.

John goes to a chair in the empty front row and

sits down. Omary feels grateful but helpless and just
looks at him.

*****

184
The glare of the rising sun on the water’s surface is like
stabbing needles to the eyes of the ferry’s outside
campers. Most of them usually wear sunglasses, but they
placed them in small luggage or their pockets overnight.
They wake as soon as the first rays rise.

Omary and John are the only two who didn’t

sleep a wink but they spent the night quietly, and safe.

It’s almost 5am and Omary’s vibrating phone

makes him jump. His watchman has yet another update:
The men just left after spending the whole night inside. Will
keep watch for another hour or so to make sure they have
left the area.

*****

Everyone is awake now and wondering what the way

forward is because no one is talking. Neither Omary nor
John knows what to say.

Two hours pass and another text comes in. It’s

safe to come back now.

The master starts the ferry and goes back to the

island.

The hike back to the van is less urgent. Omary

drives back to the house. None of them wants to say it,
but they wonder what they will find when they get there.

The back door is shattered when the group arrives home.

It’s been hacked to pieces and the pieces are everywhere
on the ground, inside and outside the house.

185
 John keeps the women and children away from
the rubble while he and Omary go inside to assess the
damage.

Thankfully, no major damage is done: just a few

pieces of furniture in the already scant house are
overturned in the kitchen and living room.

All the dresser doors in the house are open and

some of the bedding is pulled off the beds onto the floor.

Omary comes back out, calls the twins aside and

takes them to Miriam’s tree. John calls everyone else into
the house.

*****

It breaks Omary’s heart to have to tell the boys, but they

are old enough to understand what’s going on.

The last thing he wants is for them to have a

misguided longing for their mother and end up seeking
her out, only to be handing themselves over to the very
person who wants to harm them. He doesn’t know what
Bibi told them about her.

He can see from Safi’s questioning expression

that they are beyond the obedient boys he and Bibi
planned around while excluding them.

“Mjomba, why are you here to rescue us? How

did you know something was going to happen?” Safi asks
him.

“There is a lot to tell the both of you and I will do

so before I leave today. Bibi and I have shielded you for
186
way too long and it looks like it’s more dangerous for you
to be ignorant,” says Omary.

“What are you talking about?” Safi asks.

Asani is quiet. He is still shaken because he

knows Omary’s presence means the danger to everyone
at the house was because of them. He looks very nervous
about what Omary is about to tell them.

“You are aware that you father passed away

before you were born?” he asks them.

“And our mother after we were born,” Safi is

sure of himself when he states this.

“That is not exactly true,” Omary hesitates.

“What do you mean? Then where is she?” Asani

finally engages.

“That’s what I need to talk to you about. Your

grandmother doesn’t even know this, but I think you will
be safer knowing the truth.”

“What truth?” Safi is getting impatient with

Omary.

“Your mother is still alive,” he waits for them to

react.

Neither flinches.

“It wasn’t until the day before yesterday that I

knew for sure she was still alive. She left when you were
babies and I thought we would never see her again,” he
continues.

187
 “You saw her two days ago?” Asani asks.

“She came to my office to ask about you and I

thought she wanted to make amends because of how
and why she left. She said she was in a position to help
you now, to take care of you like she always wanted to. I
got this bad feeling after she left that she didn’t mean
anything good by looking for you again, but it was too
late. I had already told her where to find you. That’s why
I’m here. I couldn’t wait to see if anything would happen
and wish I had done something afterwards,” Omary says.

“Are you serious?” Asani asks. His welled-up

anger becomes more evident.

“Calm down, we’re okay now because Omary

made sure of it. He always does,” Safi is not sure what
Asani is reacting to: whether he’s angry that Omary put
them in danger or that their mother is alive and trying to
kill them.

“Look, Asani, your mother is not an evil person.

She would have harmed you when you were babies if she
wanted you dead, like some mothers do. But she didn’t,”
Omary says.

“And this? She’s obviously not the same person

you remember. She must be evil now,” Safi retorts.

“I can’t defend or attack her because I don’t

know her anymore. But we have to be smart here
because we have so many unanswered questions,”
Omary says.

“Did you tell Bibi?” asks Safi.

188
 “No, it will break her heart if she found out,”
Omary says.

“You have to tell her. What if she goes to Bibi

looking for us now that she didn’t find us here,” Safi says.

“I don’t think she would. She must know that I

know now. Hopefully that stops her from looking for you.
I’ll have to think about what to do about Bibi,” Omary
says.

189
 The aftermath of a disastrous hunt

The six hunters come back to the mganga empty handed.

They drove all day after the unsuccessful hunt to reach
Dar es Salaam.

They find the mganga unoccupied. The door to

his little shack is slightly open to show no one else is
inside with him.

The musty man stands at the door once inside

the shack, as if standing guard so no one interrupts them.
He is older now, but still as imposing and scary. His short
partner is not part of the group, perhaps having moved
on to another trade. Five others have joined the musty
man.

One of the new recruits approaches the mganga

while the other four stand outside the shack.
190
 He lowers himself to the ground where the
barefoot mganga sits with his tools and joins him.

The mganga says nothing, sensing that whatever

is about to come out the man’s mouth is not good.

Their hunt was thwarted by an escape. Their

guess? The group must have been tipped off.

The mganga knows this has to be because of

Michael Chana’s source. A second failed attempt can’t be
a coincidence.

How else?

Why, when the stakes are so high, would Michael

trust his informant without doing his homework?

As soon as the hunters leave, the mganga takes

out his small, old black cellphone from under the long
brown wrap he has over his colourful waist wrap.

He can’t dial the number quickly enough, feeling

everything slip away from him.

“Mr Chana, we have a problem.”

“What is it?”

Neither one is in the mood for etiquette.

Greetings are a waste of time when there are more
pressing matters at hand.

“It seems someone pre-empted us. My men

came back empty-handed, again. The boys and everyone
else in that house are gone. Your source is shifty. Either
191
that or those boys possess more power than I can
contend with,” the mganga says.

The long silence on the other side of the line

makes the mganga nervous. Hopefully the wrath of his
client will not land on him.

“Let me get to the bottom of this, I’ll call you

when I know which direction I want to take,” Michael
says sharply before hanging up.

*****

Michael is an angry man with no patience for waste of his

time and resources. So far, the hunts connected to his
wife have been nothing but wild goose chases. He had to
make do with looking at other avenues over the last
twelve years.

This was supposed to be the opportunity to reel

in the big fish for his biggest venture of his growing
political career.

He has reached the end of his tether. It is now

time to change course. His ambitions fuel him and he is
going to get to the bottom of this mess.

The next day’s ride to Mwanza is the longest of

his life. It’s late at night when he reaches his destination.

He meets Laila at the inn she is staying in while in

town to get answers. The small inn is walking distance
from the lake.

When she opens the door, Laila is met by a cold

and furious face and she is taken aback by how
intimidating Michael looks. He has always been a
192
powerful and attention-commanding man when he
enters any room, but her previous admiration for him
dissipates and his demeanour is now threatening to her.

“Michael, you are here?” Laila says in a panicked

voice, dismally failing at faking excitement. Her eyes are
looking at everything else in her range of vision for fear
of meeting his angry eyes.

The headlights to his black Mercedes Benz stay

on, the man behind the steering wheel frozen like a
statue, probably on instruction not to move or go
anywhere. He takes it literally.

“Are you playing games with me? Are you trying

to make a fool of me?” he barks.

He forces his way into the room, leaving the

door open behind him.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it looks like someone helped them

escape,” he says.

“What?”

“I’m told that your bloody sons are gone. My

men got there as they were escaping with everyone from
the house,” his pacing makes her head spin. But she’s
reeling because of what she’s now hearing.

“What do you mean?” she walks towards the

bed and takes a seat before her trembling knees give in.

“Nobody has that kind of luck, least of all a pair

of zeru-zeru,” Michael says.

193
 “That can’t be. How can they escape again?” she
continues.

Laila feels nothing for her own children, even at

the prospects of them being butchered by someone the
same way she would have had them butchered.

She has no regrets about walking away when the

twins were babies, nor does she care for their safety
now. Her heart has grown cold, even for her beloved
mother. She put all their lives in harm’s way, and she
doesn’t care.

What has always been important was her own

life and her selfish ambitions.

Her selfish ambitions and the evil methods she

employs to get ahead in life have created her current
problem.

She has to answer to the angry and ruthless man

standing in front of her.

A man she married to escape her hopelessness.

“You’re going to fix this,” he shouts at her and

she snaps back to reality.

“How do you expect me to fix this? I led you to a

place I knew you would find what you are looking for,”
she’s crying, but it’s not clear what the tears are for.

“What use are you to me if you can’t even get

this little thing right, ha? Everything I have worked for up
until now hangs on this and I was stupid enough to think I
could trust you to deliver them to me.”

194
 “How is any of this my fault?” she stands up in
protest.

He steps forward and gets in her face

threateningly. She is defeated.

“You’re right, maybe it’s my own fault, and I will

fix this myself. In the meantime, you better make it back
home before I do and take everything you own that your
hands can carry and get the hell out of my house. This
was the last time you make a fool of me. I don’t want to
see you again, do you hear me,” his voice is so low and
angry that he sounds like he is growling.

He walks out of the room and gets back into the

gleaming car.

*****

Laila’s life has fallen apart right in front of her. All the
work and effort at a new existence were for nothing.
Reality has brought her right back to where she thought
she had escaped from.

She is someone she cannot recognise. Someone

she didn’t like or could live with.

Her livelihood is now compromised, and she

knows there will be no going back to her husband or the
life she built after this.

She remembers Lulu, the young woman with

hopes and dreams much different to Laila’s. The girl so in
love with her childhood sweetheart that she couldn’t
wait to be his wife. She couldn’t wait to be the mother of
his children.

195
 She had those children without him. But he gave
her the children she didn’t want, ones she couldn’t
mother. Ones her heart never warmed to.

She’s back where she was all those 19 years ago:

confused, alone and broke.

Her mother would never forgive her if she went

back with her tail between her legs now that she’s made
a mess of her life, and sacrificed her family in the process.

Her bedroom at the inn feels small, as if the walls

are closing in on her. Her thoughts are a blurry and loud
noise. The air in her lungs is stale and short, her body
restless in its own skin.

It is the early hours of the morning now, but she

has to get out of there.

*****

She sees herself suddenly walking on the beach, the soft

crunch of the cooling sand under her bare feet, not
knowing exactly how she got there. The bustle in her
head occupied her mind so much that she was not aware
of her surroundings until now.

The walk along the beach is soothing, so

soothing that she has moments when she forgets her
hopeless situation.

Her mind seems to think clearer the longer she

walks.

What was her life all for? What good did she do
with it?

196
 Daybreak is almost here.

She can barely make out the time as she looks at

the old watch her husband left behind. She wears it every
day on her left wrist. It’s the watch that has kept her
mindful of the love she had for her husband, and how
much he loved her.

It’s after 4:30am.

Have I been walking for that long?

Her muddled head finds no peace. Her body is

tired. Her spirit is deflated.

At a distance, the local fishermen are getting

ready to set sail on their fishing boats and she stares out
at the deep dark water, panning across the width of it,
hypnotised by the waves and calm swooshing of the
water.

*****

As the fishermen set sail, the cool night leaving with

them, the new rays of the morning sun sprinkle the
waters with their orange and yellow hues.

The sounds of the engines of the two boats

setting off into deeper waters to fish disturb the silence
in this peaceful moment.

It takes less than an hour for one of the boats to

reach its fishing spot. The other boat goes in the opposite
direction and is nowhere in sight.

197
 The engine quietens, the anchor slowly lowers
into the waters and the heavy boots of the men on board
are busier than ever.

As the men start fishing on the opposite side of

the vessel, a peaceful but broken Lulu emerges from
under one of the thick green canvases on the floor of the
boat.

She is once again the scared, unsure and

desperate girl.

She keeps as quiet as possible, heading for the

rail of the boat furthest from where the fishermen are.

For a few moments, she reflects on her life and

what went wrong.

How the two most important men in my life left

me feeling abandoned and lost.

How, in my quest to escape my life, I left my aging

mother to fend for herself, and the children I left her with.

How being Laila made Lulu a cold, evil and greedy

woman. Or was it the other way around?

Where would I be now if I had stayed in Mwanza

with my family?

How would my sons’ lives be different if I had been

around to take care of them?

But I did have an influence in their lives. A

poisonous, unmotherly and evil influence.

198
 On the other end of the boat the fishermen are
jolly and oblivious to what is going on.

Their heavy net sends out a rippling clap over the

water as they throw it out.

Her mind comes back to her reality.

She has made peace with how her life has played
out.

With a slight sign of a smile at the corners of her

mouth, she thinks about her loving mother. Her
wonderful father and her beloved husband are at peace
wherever they are.

She lifts her left leg to climb the first of the three
silver rungs on the boat’s rail. Then the right leg goes up,
with both hands firmly gripping the highest rung.

She pauses for a moment, and then takes a

deep, laboured breath before climbing the second rung
with the left leg.

She then swings the right leg over the top of the
rail to perch on the second rung on the other side, then
straddles the metal rail for a second or two.

The left leg goes over the rail and she takes a
deep breath again.

Her peace is close. She will join the family she

loves in that peace.

She lets go of her grip and slips her feet off the
rail.

199
 With eyes closed, Lulu descends into the water,
making absolutely no sound. She is at peace with herself
now.

Her drop down feels longer than she expected.

The boat is much higher than she realised.

She feels all the weight of the pain she held onto
in life on that journey down.

She hits the water, straight up and with stiffness

in her body. The cold water wakes her back to her reality,
and she is fully awake to what she is doing. The end she
has chosen.

And then she silently surrenders herself to the

deep watery grave that had taken her father and the love
of her life.

200
 Depths of the dark world

Gasp gasp gasp. I can’t breathe, gasp!!

Glug glug glug. Bubbles are rising as the air inside

me quickly escapes.

Panic grips me from every wet surface of my skin.

It’s so dark in here. Where am I? How did I get

here?

Am I drowning? Did I drown? But how, where?

Gasp gasp. I have to get out of here.

My arms are tired! How long have I been in here,

how deep am I?

201
 ‘SOMEBODY HELP ME!’

My waving arms and legs feel like they are doing

nothing but causing bubbly miniature waves in the deep
dark.

Swirling waves keep churning around me as my

panicking body struggles to keep calm.

I have to get out of here…which way is up…am I

even the right way up?

My floating body, now slightly swirling with the

waves my limbs are making, instinctively makes a move in
the direction I assume is up because it is where my head is
pointing.

I feel the muscles in my thighs working extra hard

to give me a boost up to the surface and out of the dark
wetness.

Before long, my body feels a jerking pull from my

belly. And then… standstill. No more moving up and out of
my wet, dark mystery. I can’t move any further.

Panic comes back and I’m again aware of the lack

of breath inside me, my throat yearns for air.

Arms start fanning; the pull from my belly gets

tight as I fight for my freedom.

Nothing!

My left hand catches something as I wave more

out of desperation than with actual purpose.

What is that?

202
 My fingers slowly wrap around it curiously until I
realise it’s some sort of cord. I pull hard on it, but it’s firmly
anchored in the deep. The dark deep I think I just made
some progress trying to escape.

I can’t see a thing in this dark water, my hands will

have to be my eye.

I have to get loose.

My hands frantically feel for an unattached end of

the cord at the point it is attached to me.

Nothing.

If anything, it feels like a part of me.

I will have to free myself from where the cord is

secured on the other end.

But I can’t go down there! I can’t go back even

deeper into the dark!

But I feel the cord again against my left hand, and I

stop the debate in my head.

I have to see where this takes me.

The fingers of my left hand wrap around the cord

even harder. It feels a little thick and wavy, and surprisingly
soft. It’s a little slimy and squishy when I apply a little
pressure. But it’s strong.

I pull on it from as far down as my arm can reach

for leverage as I make my way down to its source. I can feel
the slime against the skin on my palms as both hands slide
from the last grip and slip down the cord in turns. But it’s
hard to tell if it’s just the water around me or the slime.

203
 Left hand grips, slide down, hold. Right hand grips
under left, slides down, hold. Left hand grips under right,
slides down, hold. Right hand grips under left, slides down,
hold. My feet are facing up, where I should be going, but
I’m headed in the direction my body is resisting.

How long is this cord, how long is my journey

down? It’s only now that I realise that I have not thought
about breathing, let alone drowning.

Left hand grips under right, slides down, hold.

Right hand grips under left, slides down, hold.

After what feels like the longest dive down to

who-knows-where, without warning, I hit the end of the
cord. It turns out not to be the end of the cord, but where
it’s attached to something.

It’s firmly holding onto something alright!

The last slide down and hold was with my right

hand. I swap hands to hold the cord so I can use the right to
feel my surroundings without drifting away. My feet are
still above my head.

It’s so dark in here, and now murky. But I must

complete my task.

My right hand slowly makes its way from the cord

out to whatever is holding it. It’s soft and slippery but cold.
I quickly retract my hand.

What is that?

I make the same motion with the same hand

again, this time venturing further out on its surface.

I hit a bump, which I can’t make out. My hand

keeps moving, making the rest of me float to the right,
pulling the cord with me.

204
 There is now a slight urgency in my movement, so I
don’t stop, even though I don’t know what I’m touching
and feeling.

They are familiar but strange lumps and bumps.

My fingers make their way to what now seems like eye
sockets. And it’s there that they are fixed as I realise what
this could be.

I move my face closer to where my fingers are, and

with the most piercing sharpness, bright light suddenly
shoots out of both eyes like the brightest torches.

The terror inside me makes my floating legs spring

close to my body then shoot the rest of my body so far
back from what I can now see is a body of a grown, naked
woman.

The cord pulls so hard that it detaches from the

woman’s belly button, freeing me to swim back up.

The swim up is fast and frantic.

I break the surface of the water in seconds,

desperately gasping for air, and reeling from what I just
saw.

GAAAAASP!

My lungs can’t fill up fast enough and my chest

experiences a pain I have never felt before.

Asani springs up into sitting position, legs

straight in front of him, grasping his chest, which is in
excruciating pain. His hands quickly move down to his
belly as he remembers the cord – but it’s gone.

The firmness of his bed under him brings him

back from his disorientation.

It’s still dark outside.

205
 And the night is peaceful and quiet.

Asani look across the room he shares with his

brother. Safi sleeps peacefully.

206
 A close call

The decision to leave Ukerewe Island is not an easy one,

but everyone around them is at risk if they stay.

Omary has thrown the twins a lifeline to get off

the island. Ukerewe was good for them, but it wasn’t a
permanent solution.

Although they will likely still be exposed to

danger, they will at least have another chance to settle
into some sort of life. But this time, the decision rests
squarely with them.

Omary’s boss at ‘Jack and the coffee bean stalk’

has all but retired now. Mr Allen goes back up to Mwanza
to check on the shop on the very rare occasion. He trusts
Omary to make sure everything runs as it should. Most of
his life is now in Dar es Salaam on his farm.

207
 He is the ideal person to help the Masalu boys
transition from their life on the island to earning a living
and entering the wider world. Omary has filled him in on
their plight and he has agreed to take them under his
wing and give them work on the farm. Omary would bet
his life on Mr Allen because of how good he has been to
him as an employer.

The journey out of Ukerewe is bittersweet: this

corner of the country has been their home until now, but
the exposure will be good for them.

The two times they saw the ferry master were

when they were in hiding, trying to escape certain death.

They see him at a distance as they get off the

boat after the earliest ride off the island. All they can do is
wave back at him when he waves from his station.

Omary meets Safi and Asani on arrival in

Mwanza.

The busy terminal makes them nervous. They

fear that every person bumping into them is a potential
hunter. Only now do they appreciate that Omary did
things the way he did in the past when he took them to
safety because he wanted to shield them from the
commotion from outsiders.

Past the sea of touring and travelling faces, they

see Omary standing at the end of the dock.

“Mjomba,” Safi is the first to greet him with a

hug. He throws his bag off his left shoulder to make way
for Omary’s arms around him.

“Hello, Safi, Asani,” Omary says.

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 He is emotional, but the boys can’t tell. He
knows this is one of the last times he will see them again
for a very long time.

He pulls Asani in over Safi for a group hug.

Once the three untangle, Safi picks up his bag

and they walk to the car in the parking lot.

*****

“I thought you two would be hungry. And that you would

need a bit of a break before the long trip to Dar es
Salaam,” Omary says as they pull into a strange parking
lot.

The thought of eating is very welcome, but Safi is

unsure they should be at a restaurant. He’s accustomed
to being the second class citizen few people want to
associate with.

“Are you sure we can eat here? What if they

refuse to serve us? Or refuse to serve you because you’re
with us?” Safi asks him.

“We don’t know if that will happen, but let’s

address it then,” Omary says.

They get out of the ‘Jack and the coffee

beanstalk’ van and walk into the restaurant. There are
many tourists in the establishment. Most don’t seem to
take notice of their arrival. This is a surprise to the albino
pair who are used to being conspicuous in a sea of dark
faces.

They take the empty table to the right of the

entrance. The first is occupied by a white family of
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tourists. It is not only their pale skins and blonde and
brown hair that catches Safi’s eye as they walk past to
their table, but how happy and normal they seem to be.
They are comfortable in their skin and Safi yearns for that
more than anything.

The waitress is at the table as soon as they are

seated.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. Can I get you

anything to drink? Here are your menus. We have a ‘Catch
of the day’ special today, which comes with chips and a
salad and our homemade bread,” she speeds through her
speech.

But Omary catches all the information and runs

with it.

“We will have three of the special, and to drink

I’ll have a big Coke. Boys, anything to drink?” he asks
them.

“I’ll have the same,” they say in unison.

“I’ll be right back with your order,” she says with

a smile and collects the unopened menus from the table.

“Thank you,” Omary says.

Omary sees Safi’s relief as he realises his fear of

being discriminated against is far from reality.

She walks off into the kitchen on the other end

of the big open restaurant.

“Have you spoken to Bibi?” Asani asks Omary.

He’s next to his brother across the table from Omary.

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 “I have. She’s doing well, but she is getting old.
She did want to see you before you leave but knows time
is against us.”

“I miss her,” Safi says. He’s looking at the salt

shakers he’s playing with on the table.

“She misses you too, but knowing that you are

safe and are doing well is enough for her for now,”
Omary says.

The waitress comes and places three tall glasses

full of ice on the table in front of each man. Traces of
Coke fill in the gaps between all the ice cubes.

“Thank you,” Omary says.

It feels good for both boys to know there is

normal life for them out there.

*****

Omary has a change of heart as they leave the restaurant.

“I think we should take a little detour before we

get on the road. One last round to the house before you
leave Mwanza?” he says to the boys.

Safi sharply turns his head to look at Omary from

the passenger seat.

“Ah…yeah!” Asani says from the backseat.

“Thank you. It was eating away at me that we

won’t get to see Bibi before leaving,” an emotional Safi
says.

Omary is touched by that.

211
 The ride feels long despite it taking only a few
minutes.

“We’ll spend the night and set off early

tomorrow morning. I’ll let Mr Allen know,” Omary says.

*****

They park the car at the foot of the hill and hike up to the
house.

“I’m so anxious. I hope she doesn’t have a heart

attack when she sees us,” Safi says.

“It’s going to be the best surprise ever,” Asani

says.

The three are panting a little as they come to the

end of the hike. They walk the footpath behind Omary’s
house, past the middle neighbour before reaching Bibi’s
house.

Bibi is in the kitchen cleaning up when the boys

approach the back door.

It gets a little darker as the three men’s tall

frames cover the doorway.

She turns and sees Asani in the front walking

into the house.

“Thank you, God! My boys are home!” she

screams.

She throws the dishcloth she was using to wipe

the table clean on the ground and runs to give him a hug.

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 Safi comes in behind Asani. Omary is behind
them both with a huge smile.

She lets go of Asani and hugs Safi. Through her

sobs, she lets go of him and reaches for both of them for
a hug.

She goes for Omary next.

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” she whispers

while hugging him.

*****

Bibi makes the boys’ favourite meal, much like the feast
she made the day after their night in the woods.

Omary and Sarah join them for dinner.

“You two are so much taller than the last time I

saw you. I pray you don’t get taller, otherwise you are
going to have problems,” Sarah says.

They all laugh.

“I thought I was shrinking, but they are rather

tall, just like their father was,” Bibi says. She hasn’t
touched her food in favour of looking at the boys and
taking everything in.

“Trust me, Bibi, you are in great condition. This

great-looking pair makes us all look bad!” Omary adds.

“Yes, we are hot!” Asani jokes.

Everyone laughs.

213
 “It’s so good to see you two. I can’t thank you
enough, Omary,” Bibi suddenly gets serious.

“Any time, Bibi. You know I’d do anything for all

of you,” he responds.

“You have done so much. I don’t know what we

would have done without you,” Safi says.

“I’m glad you never had to find out,” Omary

says.

“About the trip tomorrow: We need to leave

very early. We’ll be spending the whole day on the road,”
Omary takes the attention away from himself.

“We’ll come to your place so we can walk down

to the car together,” Asani says.

“Sounds good,” says Omary.

“The Masalus are staying up all night and talking

to make up for all the time we’ve spent apart. I want to
know everything,” Bibi says.

*****

The gruelling trip down from Mwanza is 17 hours long.

Safi sits with Omary in the front. Asani has no problem
with that because he’s in no mood to make conversation
with either of them. He pretends to be asleep much of
the trip to avoid them.

In between, they stop to refresh the big cooler

Omary packed in the boot of the car. He avoids too many
refreshments to keep the bathroom breaks to a
214
minimum, stopping at Singida, Morogoro and Dodoma
for extended breaks.

*****

Mr Allen is waiting for them when they arrive at the farm.

He’s a tall man. His halo of white hair is the first

thing you see. He’s in great condition for a man nearing
his 70s.

He is still dressed in blue jeans, grey dress shirt

and black Puma sneakers when Omary and the boys
arrive after midnight.

After a quick bite, Mr Allen offers them a place

to sleep. The boys share a double bed in the room next to
Omary’s room upstairs.

Mr Allen is the offspring of an English father and

Tanzanian mother. His yearning to know his African roots
is the reason he moved his family to Tanzania.

He lives alone in a big white three bedroom U-

shaped farm house. His wife passed away a few years
ago, and their adult children live in London, where the
family moved from when the children were young.

The courtyard on the back side of the house

faces an open field. His maid lives in her quarters in the
attic, while the rest of the farm hands have separate staff
quarters 100 metres from the house. At the far end of the
farm, in line with the house, is a milking barn where the
workers milk the cows, pasteurise and package the milk
before selling it.
215
 There are more than 200 cows kept in the kraals.

Omary is exhausted the next morning, so he spends the

day resting ahead of his return to Mwanza the following
day.

The boys spend the day lounging. They know the

next day will be the start of their work life.

*****

The twins join the other staff at the staff quarters. Mr

Allen believes it would make them feel part of the
community. Giving them preferential treatment would
make them a target for grudges from the others.

They both work in the barn, mostly operating the

milking machines. The sun makes it difficult for them to
work outdoors. The work is harder than anything they’ve
ever done, which is not much.

They have been on the farm for four months and

both like having money to show for it at the end of the
month. They each save most of their earnings because
they are fed and housed on the farm.

Mr Allen is hosting a potential client who has come to the

farm to see the establishment he would be sourcing his
milk from. His business is growing and he wants
competitive prices for his products.

Michael Chana and one of the managers of the

expanding ‘The Chana Shop’ franchise meet Mr Allen for
216
breakfast at the house. After the meal, Mr Allen takes
them on a walk around the farm.

“This is our milking barn. As you can see, all our

staff is geared up in protective clothing for hygiene
purposes as well as safety. We have training for everyone
to ensure we stick to best practice. Our parlours milk 30
cows at a time, so we can definitely meet demand,” Mr
Allen tells the businessmen.

“How many staff members do you have?” the

manager asks the farmer.

Michael is distracted as they do the rounds in the

barn and lags behind the two men.

“We have almost 50 men and women working

on the farm. Most live on site,” Mr Allen says.

The two stop walking to face each other. They

realise Michael is a few steps behind them. He’s looking
to the left of the huge room over the cows and machine
at whatever he’s concentrating on.

The noise from the parlours is loud.

“Everything okay, Mr Chana?” Mr Allen asks with

a raised voice.

“Yes, I’m sorry. What were we saying?” he walks

to catch up with them.

Safi walks from Michael’s side into Mr Allen and

the manager’s view. Michael glances at Safi. The glance
lasts for a few seconds. Mr Allen sees Michael’s interest.

217
 “We were talking about the staff and our ability
to meet supply. Is there anything you would like to ask,
Mr Chana?” Mr Allen enquires.

Michael looks at his manager, and says: “No, I

think we have all the information we need?”

The manager nods.

“Good, but please don’t hesitate to pick up the

phone if you think of something later,” Mr Allen says.

“We definitely will,” the manager reaches out to

Mr Allen for a handshake.

“Thank you for your time, sir,” Michael says. He

reaches for Mr Allen’s hand.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” says Mr Allen. He

ushers them out of the small side door.

*****

That afternoon Mr Allen’s tea time is spent in deep

thought about what happened earlier in the barn.

Something doesn’t sit well with him about

Michael and his interest in Safi. Although Michael didn’t
say anything, he knows it can’t be a good thing that he
zeroed in on Safi out of all the people around them at the
time.

Mr Allen has been in Tanzania long enough to

know the attitudes some locals have about albino people.
Besides, he knows the boys’ history.

218
 His instinct tells him the boys are no longer safe.
Besides, he would rather be safe than sorry that he
ignore the signs of danger if anything were to happen
under his watch.

*****

Before he retires for the night, Mr Allen calls Omary back

in Mwanza and discusses the day’s events.

After the call, he is more convinced than ever that the

boys are better off far from the place where they have to
look over their shoulders to stay alive.

After breakfast the following morning, Mr Allen calls the

boys to tell them what kept him up most of the night.

“Come in, boys. How did you sleep last night?”

Mr Allen makes small talk before he tackles the subject.
He gestures to them to take a seat on the couch opposite
the floral armchair he’s in.

“Well, thank you. How about you?” Safi tries to

sound respectful and formal.

“I slept okay, thank you,” he responds.

He doesn’t know where to begin.

“Yesterday I had two businessmen here and I

gave them a tour of the farm. One of them saw one of
you boys and I get the feeling that is not a good thing,”
he makes it a point not to identify the boy in question.
That’s not relevant.

219
 “You think we’re bad for business,” concludes
Asani.

“No, not at all. If that was the case, you wouldn’t

have been here in the first place. I’m worried about your
safety. The last thing I want is to endanger your lives,” Mr
Allen explains.

“Do you think he may come back for us?” Safi

asks.

“I know the man is powerful and rich. He could

do bad things if he wants to, and his money and influence
would hide it. I don’t want to take that chance with your
lives,” Mr Allen says.

“What does that mean?” Asani asks.

“It means it’s no longer safe for you to be here.

I’m really sorry, but I will do my best to make sure you get
to a safe place. I spoke to Omary last night. He agrees we
need to do as much as possible to keep you safe.”

“Is there such a place? We have been running

our whole lives. I’m beginning to think we will keep
running for the rest of our lives,” Safi says.

“There is a world out there that doesn’t see your

skin like some people here do. You can have normal lives
in a lot of countries. I think you two have a real chance at
life if you go somewhere else,” Mr Allen says.

“We have no money to start life in some foreign

country. Beside, where would we go?” Asani asks.

220
 “Give me a day or two to work out a few details.
But please realise, we have to move quite fast because
we don’t know when he may come back,” Mr Allen says.

*****

Much of the following day Mr Allen is out. The boys know

what he’s up to, but they try to avoid each other at work
so they don’t inadvertently expose the fact that
something is brewing.

They like and even trust their co-workers, but

they can’t know for sure.

*****

“I have some information for you.”

Mr Allen invites the boys over for dinner after a

full day out. He doesn’t pay any mind to how the other
workers may feel because he knows this is the end of the
road on the farm for them.

“I don’t think you need to put in the day’s work

tomorrow. I will pay you for it and give you a little extra
for your trip. I think because of the long trip ahead, you
need to rest, and pack your belongings,” Mr Allen says.

The two are silent while they wait for Mr Allen to

finish telling them what the plan is. Neither of them pays
attention to the generous spread laid out on the table for
them.

“Late on Friday afternoon you will board a train

from here to Zambia. From there you will go on to
Zimbabwe and then down to South Africa. The trip out of
Tanzania is the only one I have a hand in. I suggest you
221
get lifts through Zambia and Zimbabwe to make your
money stretch, that way it will last long enough to live on
when you get to South Africa. I have a few old banknotes
you can use to buy food once in Zambia, but they won’t
buy very much.”

He waits for a reaction.

“Omary tells me you have no paperwork to cross

the borders, so I arranged with a good friend to get on
the train without them, but you have to lay low on the
train.”

“We’re going to South Africa?” Asani is

confused.

“That’s the best place in this part of the world

for you to go,” Mr Allen can feel a bit of pushback from
him.

Safi gives Asani a side eye.

“Yes, we understand, and thank you for all the

help, sir,” Safi says.

“Boys, listen to me, I know this is not ideal but

this is an opportunity to make a fresh new start. There
are lots of opportunities there. That’s why I thought
South Africa would work. And you will be safer there. But
you have to be careful while traveling. Stay hidden
because you may still be at risk,” he says.

“Thank you, sir,” Asani buys into the idea, albeit

reluctantly.

Mr Allen smiles.

222
 “Now, let’s eat before all this food gets cold.”

*****

“Good morning, Mr Allen, Michael Chana here. How are

you doing?”

He’s hardly surprised to hear back from Michael.

The only surprise is how soon he got the call.

“I’m well, thank you. I trust you’re well?”

“Yes, everything is good, thank you. The reason

for my call is that I want to bring another two associates
to see the farm before we lock contracts into place.
Tomorrow okay?” Michael asks.

How’s this for perfect timing!

“I’m out all of tomorrow until late. If you need to

show them the barn I’m afraid Monday would be ideal
because most of my staff doesn’t work on weekends.
Otherwise Saturday morning works.”

Michael grabs the first chance he can get.

“They don’t have to see the barn. It’s more

about introducing them to you and the place than
anything else.”

“Wonderful, I’ll expect to see you on Saturday

morning then.”

“Saturday it is.”

*****

223
It’s 3:50pm on the dot on Friday. The Tazara train leaves
the station from downtown Dar. The boys have first class
cabin tickets. Mr Allen wanted to make sure they at least
have a comfortable departure from Tanzania, especially
considering that would likely be the only comfort they
would have the whole trip down.

The inspector is in on the plan to smuggle the

boys over the border. He’s working with his senior in the
ticket office to book the tickets without passports. His
contact on the other side will ensure the checks skip
them once they arrive.

The boys have an easy ride once on the train, but

they pretty much stay in their cabin and avoid the public
spaces.

Mr Allen is relieved knowing he has succeeded in

foiling a possible sinister plan by Michael. He doesn’t
know for sure, but it feels like he’s sidestepped
something bad.

*****

Saturday morning’s visit from Michael feels unreal to Mr

Allen.

He arrives with two men who have no business

wearing business suits because anyone can tell this was
more staged than legitimate.

Michael and his associates meet Mr Allen and go

for a short walk outside. He asks Mr Allen to meet the
staff. Mr Allen obliges, of course, knowing the staff he’s
looking for is nowhere close to the farm.

224
 None of the men and women that are presented
to him at the staff quarters is remotely pale in
complexion.

“Is this everyone, Mr Allen?” Michael asks.

“This is all the staff,” Mr Allen says.

“It looks a little less than I expected to see.”

You mean ‘looks a little darker’ than you expected

to see! Bloody idiot!

225
 The winding road to safety

The boys make sure to pack the water bottles and toilet
paper they got from the train ride, including the two
extras they take from the other two unoccupied sleepers
in their 4-sleeper cabin. The road ahead is unknown and
long, so they know a stock of the basics is a must.

The train pulls into the Kapiri Mposhi station at

9:30am on Saturday. The inspector comes to get the boys
off the train using staff exits to avoid passport check.

Once off the train and out in the bustle of the

station, it hits them that they managed to leave home
and are in a foreign country. Hearing the unfamiliar
language cements this in their minds.

All the other passengers who are coming and

going in the waiting area of a blue rectangular hall cause
confusion for the small town boys.

226
 They wait it out on the chairs in the hall while
they get their bearings.

Once the waves of people subside, they find a

corner in the big hall and start thinking of the way
forward.

“We have to get to Harare. I wish we could get

on another train,” Asani says.

“We can’t do that. Not only will we not get to

Zimbabwe, we would probably be arrested and maybe
sent back for having travelled this far without papers. The
only way is to get lifts, like Mr Allen suggested, until we
reach our destination. There’s no other way,” says Safi.

Asani doesn’t like the sound of that, but he

knows it’s the only way.

*****

The station is off a major road. Their best bet is to walk

along the road while trying for a lift, or while they come
up with another idea to leave Zambia.

The directionless walk brings them to a petrol

station along the road. A few trucks are parked off to the
right side at the station.

“We better stock up on more snacks to hold us

while on the road, but nothing heavy. We have no idea if
we’ll even see a toilet along the way,” Safi tells Asani as
they approach the station.

The little store at the station has basic snacks

and drinks, so they stock up on bottled water and
227
chocolate bars. Each boy shoves their snacks of choice
into his backpack after paying.

On their way out of the store Asani gets an idea

he thinks is absolutely genius to solve their transport
problem.

“I know how we can get out of here,” he says.

“How?” Safi asks.

He points at the second big truck to their left.

The number plate has the coat of arms and ‘Zimbabwe’ in
the middle of the letters and numbers.

“Where’s the driver? Maybe he can give us a lift,”

Safi says. His eyes are all over the place trying to locate
the driver of the Zimbabwe truck. None of the drivers of
all four trucks parked at the petrol station seems to be
around.

Asani pulls his brother to the side of the doorway

for a discreet chat.

“What makes you think he’ll be that nice?

Besides, we need to not just pay for everything with the
little that we have. Who knows what’s still to come,”
Asani says.

“Are you suggesting we get on without him

knowing? Are you crazy?” Safi whispers angrily.

“Okay, let’s explore your idea. Let’s ask him

nicely, and if he says no, what then?”

Safi sees the big bulging eyes behind Asani’s

sunglasses.

228
 He thinks for a few seconds.

“How do we even know where in Zimbabwe this

truck is going?”

“Does it matter? As long as we cross the border.

The rest we’ll figure out the same way we’re trying to
figure this out.”

“Fine,” Safi is forced to agree.

Asani smirks.

“We better get in the back before someone

comes. Hopefully we’re not jumping into a wild animal’s
cage,” Safi says.

They walk in between the first two trucks and

survey the height of the truck they have to scale from the
left side.

The white drop side truck has two trailers linked

to it. They pick the first trailer from the front.

“You go first,” Asani gives his brother space.

“Gee, what a surprise,” Safi says.

He takes off his backpack and puts it on the

ground. He puts his right foot on the huge back wheel of
the trailer and holds on to the end with the right hand.
Once he has a good grip, the left foot comes up. The left
hand doesn’t have much to grip on. The side of the trailer
is corrugated. He holds onto the surface anyway, hoping
not to slip.

229
 Once stable, he lifts the right foot as high as he
can and plants the rubber bottom of his sneaker on the
side of the corrugated side. It sticks. He quickly lifts
himself up and throws the left hand up, hooking his
fingers at the top edge of the trailer.

His right hand goes up and hooks the edge too.

He lifts the right leg up much like the left one

and manages to get anchored. The rest of the way is
easy. He makes his way up like it’s second nature.

Ah great, coal!

He’s kneeling on a mountain of black dusty coal.

He takes a piece and throws it down at Asani.

Asani jumps out of the way and laughs. Safi’s

hands are already black.

Asani takes both backpacks and throws them up

to Safi one at a time.

It’s his turn to get up. He mimics Safi’s climb and

also makes it onto the coal heap.

“For the record, I hate you for this,” Safi

whispers.

“Let’s talk about how much you hate me once

we get to Zim,” Asani whispers with a smile.

“We better make little dips for ourselves and get

comfortable before the driver gets back. We have to lie
down the entire trip,” Safi says.

230
 “Thankfully the coal is not all the way up,
otherwise we’d fall off the edges,” Asani says.

Safi starts digging and Asani follows. The

backpacks are at the end of the trailer.

Once they are done digging, Safi takes a pair of

his jeans out of the backpack, turns them inside out and
makes a pillow, placing it on the same side as the front of
the truck. Asani copies him. He lies down and puts his cap
on his face to protect him from the sun.

The twins wait for their driver to come and take

them to Zimbabwe.

It’s a good 20 minutes before the unsuspecting

driver comes to his truck. The boys are already tired and a
little sore from sleeping on their backs on pointy coal.

If all goes well, they should be in Zimbabwe by

night time.

*****

Three and a half hours into the trip and the two
border jumpers have almost survived the Zambia leg of
the trip.

The truck is at the border and the driver stops

next to a sea of other trucks. The engine goes quiet and
he gets out of the vehicle.

A few minutes pass and the driver comes back.

He’s with an inspector. The only reason the boys

know this is because they hear the word ‘inspection’
231
amidst all the other words they can’t make out. They
can’t tell what language is being spoken.

The driver and the inspector walk off again, the

volume of their conversation fading as they disappear.

Safi signals Asani that they need to dig

themselves deeper into the coal to not be found.

He doesn’t wait for a response and starts

scooping the coal from the middle heap on top of his
backpack and his body while wiggling frantically to bury
himself deeper.

Asani does the same.

They pile coal on top of the caps covering their

faces. Then they bury their coal-black hands.

Just then the inspector and the driver come

back. The inspector climbs a little silver ladder and has a
peek over the coal. All he sees is black, and that’s good
enough for him.

He gets down, stamps and signs documents and

gives them back to the driver. The two shake hands and
go their separate ways.

The driver is back in the truck and starts the

engine.

Ahead at the gate the driver stops and hands the

stamped and signed documents to the official. He gets
another signoff and crosses the border.

A few minutes after crossing the border the

twins re-emerge from the coal like turtle hatchlings. They
232
try not to sneeze, but thankfully the engine is so loud
that they get away with coughing and sneezing out the
coal dust.

*****

The few stops the driver takes to stretch his legs are in
the middle of nowhere. A peek over the edge of the
trailer is enough investigation to see if this the last stop,
or if any of these are good places for the twins to hop off.

Six more hours and the truck stops in Harare.

When they arrive, the twins jump off as soon as

the driver is out of the truck at the truck stop.

He hasn’t stepped that far from the truck, but

the twins don’t realise it.

As soon as Asani is off, Safi throws both bags

down to him.

“Hey!” the driver shouts as he tries to hurry back

to his truck.

Asani looks up from picking up his bag.

“Shit!” Asani says.

He takes both bags and starts running away

from the driver while Safi jumps off the trailer.

“Hey! I’m gonna kill you both, bloody chancers,”

the out-of-breath driver shouts.

His stiff legs don’t allow him to run fast enough

to catch the twins, so he gives up when he sees there is
no chance of catching up with them. He sees coal dust
233
making smoky clouds around them as they pass under a
street light and disappear into the dark.

They can’t help but laugh as they escape.

They are a mess: they are covered in soot from

head to toe. They have not had haircuts for over two
years, so they have a hefty lot on their heads. Their hair
now has a thin black layer on the outside like a reverse
halo, and is blonde in the middle.

Their faces have traces of the soot, but mostly

escape it thanks to their caps.

They walk around an old building to change out

of the dirty clothes. It’s dark and dingy back there. The
stench of urine is pervasive.

Very little of their bottled water is left. After

changing into clean clothes, they do their best to wash
the soot off their faces and hands, using each other as
mirrors – a pointless exercise considering how dark it is.

They then move away from the smelly building

to take account of all the money they have left between
them.

Having used very little of their money along the

way, they have what feels like riches in their hands in the
form of their wages and a little extra from Mr Allen, each
holding on to their own portion for safe keeping.

They have riches, and no plan forward. Their

immediate thought is a hefty meal to make up for their
sparse snacks on the trip, and a comfortable bed to rest
their bruised and battered muscles and bones.

234
 The boys end up at the closest inn their feet
manage to carry them.

The inn is a small rectangular block with two

floors. The outside walls are painted a light pink, as far as
they can make out in the dark. There’s a steel fence in
front of the building. The sides are a patchwork of the
surrounding neighbours’ fences.

There is not much activity outside the inn, just

one or two people going in and out of the building. It
must be pretty late - they have no way of knowing.

There is a slight background noise of music

coming from somewhere not far from the establishment.

Once inside the inn, the receptionist strains to

keep eye contact instead of staring at their heads.

They book a room at reception – one room with

twin beds to save money.

Before heading to the room, they go to the

dining room, which looks more like a casual canteen, just
past the reception area.

Once they settle in at the table right in the

centre of the room, the waitress wastes no time with
menus right in their faces.

“Gentlemen, how are you?”

“Fine, thank you,” the twins harmonise.

“Anything to drink?” she asks as she pulls a note

pad from her apron pouch.

235
 Her eyes are glued to the black sooty top of their
blonde hair, not trying to conceal her astonishment like
the receptionist.

“Please bring us a jug of cold water while we

decide what to eat,” Asani says.

She looks at Safi as if expecting him to override

Asani’s choice.

He gives her a dismissive grin.

“Alright, I’ll be back in a minute with your water

and to take your order,” she says.

“Thank you,” says Safi.

Asani’s wide eyes ogle her behind as she walks

away to the kitchen on the far side of the dining hall.

Safi looks up from the menu and looks at him.

“As ridiculous as you look right now, and as bad

as we smell, you can forget about her thinking anything
other than feeding us quickly so we can get out of here,”
Safi disapprovingly reprimands his brother in case he’s
thinking of doing more than look at the waitress.

Asani ignores him.

“I wonder what there is to do tonight. We need

to have some fun to take my mind off things,” says Asani.

“Aren’t you tired? My body aches like you

wouldn’t believe,” responds Safi.

“Here’s your water,” the waitress interrupts.

236
 “Thank you,” says Safi.

“To eat?” she asks.

“We’ll have the chicken meal, number six. And a

couple of Cokes,” Safi tells her.

Asani doesn’t care about the lack of consultation

on what he may want to eat.

“Very well,” she says. She takes the menus and

goes back to the kitchen.

“We have one or two nights here. We may never

see this place again. I want to enjoy the little time we
have before we are back to our depressing life,” he says
in an almost joking way.

“Well, I’m tired. You can do whatever it is that

you feel you need to do by yourself,” Safi closes the
subject.

A full roast chicken split down the middle and a

large pile of greasy fries and two white bread rolls that
are not exactly fresh hit the spot for both boys. A couple
of cans of Coke fill any gaps that may have remained.

“You pay. I’ll cover tomorrow’s meals,” Safi tells

Asani as they get up to leave.

Asani searches his back pocket.

“Okay, I’ll go pay,” he says.

He walks to the cash register close to the door,

where the same waitress is now standing.

237
 Safi follows close behind him. Each has their
luggage in hand. He walks past behind Asani and heads
up the stairs across the dining area door as Asani leans in
to talk to the waitress.

*****

They’ve reached the lull of the night. The soft mattress in

their room beckons louder than the shower in the tiny en
suite bathroom now that Safi’s belly is full.

He hits the white pillow with a thud, only

managing to kick the shoes off his feet. He is out.

*****

The night is Asani’s for the taking. The sounds of the

night life behind the inn entice him and he jumps into the
shower, making sure to wash the soot out of his unruly
blonde hair.

He gets into the only clean pants in his luggage –

black jeans and the new blue and white T-shirt he bought
before leaving Dar es Salaam. The trip was unkind to his
black sports shoes. He wears them as dirty and smelly as
they are.

Without a second thought, he leaves the room

and heads to the night spot. He uses the sound of the
music to navigate there, turning to his left as he leaves
the inn. He walks around the corner to the building
behind the inn.

The dark brown brick building looks a little dingy.

There is a bit of distance between the gate and the
building, with gravel all around.

238
 The ladies of the night do their business here,
picking up their clients in full view of everyone brave
enough to be seen here.

This is new to him. It’s new and exciting.

In his eyes, he is entering the world of forbidden

adult fun and there is no one there to curb his thirst for
what that world offers.

The instrumental music that pulled him here is

much louder.

The sun on his already compromised and delicate

skin has been unkind to his 20-year-old face, especially
after the harsh trip to reach Harare. But there is no
mistaking the fact that he is younger than the official age
of admission – which is 21. But what’s official on paper is
of no relevance here.

Asani’s obvious youth makes him a magnet to

the shrewd working girls. They see the innocence and
ignorance of the potential new client as a big pay day for
them.

Two ladies in bad flammable-looking wigs, one

blonde and the other black, approach him. They walk
slowly towards him as he reaches the main door, which is
about ten metres from the open single front gate.

Each lady approaches from the rooms on the left

and the right sides of the entrance hall of the building.
The arched doorways are concealed by metal bead
curtains that sound like tiny wind chimes when parted.

The women’s movements are seemingly

choreographed, mimicking two lionesses stalking prey.
239
 The blonde girl’s super-short red dress resembles
a T-shirt more than a dress; it creeps up when she walks,
forcing her to keep pulling it down before all the ‘tricks of
her trade’ are exposed.

Her very high black platform heels are tantalising

to Asani and she exaggerates her walk to drive him even
crazier.

The black-haired girl seems more reserved than

the red dress vixen. If anything, she looks more like a
rookie in training by the professional. She wears a black
glitter skirt, which is conservatively short compared to
her partner’s. Her halter neck top is also black and
effectively displays her generous cleavage. Her silver
strappy high heels make the slightly boring outfit more
exciting to look at. Not much else is exciting about her,
not even her walk is enticing.

But Asani does not care; he is not there for her

walk.

The red dress vixen is the first to reach her eager

prey from the left side, her eyes on the same level as his
shoulders as she makes physical contact with him.

He stands there stuck on stupid as she slowly

walks her left middle and index fingers up the front of his
T-shirt, her eyes following the fingers.

The rookie reaches the pair in time to witness

the vixen’s eye meet Asani’s.

She runs her left hand along his right arm but
avoids eye contact with him.

240
 She has a bottle of cheap brandy in her right
hand and uses it to get Asani’s attention.

The boy can’t believe his luck. All he came here

looking for has come to him, multiplied, without him
uttering a word.

“Do you want to join us for some fun upstairs,

honey?” the red dress vixen says, looking straight in
Asani’s eyes.

His throat immediately feels dry and he can’t

think of anything to say, so he just nods.

The two ladies pull him into the room to the right
side of the main door, with the red dress vixen‘s left hand
lifted high and extended towards the silent woman
behind the reception desk. Like it is something they’ve
done a million times before, the silent woman slips a set
of keys into the vixen’s hand as it disappears with the rest
of her behind the chiming curtain.

Behind the curtain, the source of the music is

evident. Two huge speakers at the far corners of the
room spit out more bass than the music itself.

Walking past drinking patrons in the dimly lit

liquor lounge, they slip up the dark wooden stairs on the
left of the room.

Asani is sandwiched between the pair and he

keeps looking behind him to make sure the real
professional is still following them, not wanting to be left
alone with someone who seems as inexperienced as he
is.

241
 Upstairs the dirty red wallpaper from downstairs
continues along the long passage with a black carpet
from end to end. To the right of the staircase there are
two rooms, one on each side of the passage. The doors
are closed.

The left side has seven doors, three to the left

and four on the opposite side. All the doors are closed.

They walk a little to the left, the vixen taking the

lead. With key in hand, she passes door ‘3’ and unlocks
the door numbered a big gold ‘4’. She leads them into the
room and closes the door behind them.

*****

The vixen wastes no time as soon as the door is locked.

“Let’s have some drinks and loosen up a bit,”

she breaks the ice.

The room is a small square with a big bed against

the wall on the left. A chair stands on the far left corner.
To the right of the chair is a high window with no curtain.

“Have a seat,” she instructs him in a stern but

soft voice. She grabs the bottle from the rookie as she
and Asani sit down.

The vixen looks like she’s in the mid-twenties,

and is a driven type of girl. Her attitude makes her
attractive to a lot of men, but she usually goes for the
early evening ones and out-of-town visitors.

The early evening ones don’t stay long. Perhaps

they have a wife and family to go to and have to be home
at a decent hour, so she doesn’t have to babysit them.
242
 The out-of-towners are good for her pocket.
They usually can’t figure out the currency and are
generous tippers when she’s done showing them a good
time.

She is here to stay and makes sure she’s always

in demand with her clients.

Asani is happy to have her control the occasion.

The rookie seems like she is happy to be led too.

She’s a newbie still being shown the ropes. She’s happy
to team up with another girl so she doesn’t have to be
alone with the perverts who use their services.

There’s a little table behind the door. A few

glasses and a jug of water sit on it. She pours Asani’s
drink first, making sure to fill it as much as possible.

He eagerly takes it and takes a big swig of its

contents, letting out a slight cough after swallowing.

“Slow down, wait for us to join you,” the vixen

says.

“Sorry, I’m a little nervous,” he responds.

“First time doing this?” she asks him as she pours

the other two glasses for herself and the rookie, making
sure she dilutes with a lot of water.

“Yes,” he says.

The rookie looks uncomfortable.

“First time ever or with, you know, ladies like

us?” the rookie asks him.

243
 “Both,” he looks embarrassed to admit it.

The vixen senses she needs to ease the tension

in the room to save the deal.

“Don’t worry about it. We know what we’re

doing,” the vixen says. She moves closer to the bed and
hands the rookie her drink.

She takes a big gulp of her drink and puts the

glass on the floor. As she comes back up, without
warning, she stands right up against Asani’s knees and
slowly takes off her itty bitty dress.

Asani’s eyes almost pop out of their sockets. His

head tilts up with the hem of her dress as she pulls it up
her body, excitement quickly building up inside him.

I can’t believe this is happening!

*****

The next morning Safi wakes up. An unpleasant pong is

the first thing to greet the still-groggy sleeper. He can’t
quite place it though.

His eyes open slowly.

As his mind sobers up, he realises the sun is only

now rising – the light curtain in the room is hardly
effective in keeping light out. It’s a cream-coloured, thin
fabric sorry excuse for a bedroom curtain.

He slowly lifts his head off the flat pillow and

realises when his stiff and painful neck refuses to turn
that he had slept flat on his stomach, his face turned
towards the window, all night without changing position.

244
 He sees a black imprint on the white pillowcase
from his dirty hair.

Shit.

He takes a few minutes to stretch his neck, lifting

his arms from his sides to prop him up from the pillow.

As he twists right, left and up, down, he get a

whiff of the smell again.

What is that?

The sweaty smell from his red round neck T-shirt

is filling the room. As he realises this, he springs up into
sitting position, facing the other bed between his bed
and the door.

Asani’s bed has not been slept in.

What trouble is this little fool up to?

Back to that later. It’s time to get out of these

dirty clothes and shower.

*****

After the much-needed shower and a fresh change of

clothes, Safi decides to wash the few clothes he has,
including the ones full of soot from the night before.

He uses the same soap he used in the shower,

and no fabric softener. He hangs the crispy clothes on the
rail on the bathroom window to dry in the morning sun.

It must be about 6:30am now.

Where is Asani?

245
 Despite the heavy dinner last night, Safi’s
stomach starts grumbling. He takes hearty gulp of water
from the bathroom basin tap to stop the grumbling.

Walking back into the bedroom, he is still trying

to gather his thoughts on how the day, and more days
going forward, will unfold.

And he’s waiting for Asani to return.

He looks outside the small window over his bed

and sees a dark brown double storey building behind the
hotel. There is little movement on the street side of the
house: drunken patrons stumbling out of the
establishment after a full night’s drinking.

He gets back down, turns the pillow over and

reclines on his bed, staring out of a thin slit in the curtain
as the sun slowly gets brighter. He drifts back to sleep.

*****

Around 9am Safi wakes from his unexpected early

morning nap. He immediately remembers what his state
of mind was before he dozed off.

Then his stomach starts up again.

Forget Asani. I’m going to find something to eat.

*****

In the hotel dining room, he browses the menu then

realises he doesn’t know what the exchange rate is
246
between the Tanzanian shillings and the Zimbabwean …
whatever their currency is?

How did Safi pay for dinner last night? Do they

take other currencies?

The waitress comes over to his table.

“Hi, how are you doing?” he asks the waitress.

She has an open and friendly face, and looks

happy in her knee-length red and white apron and
matching head scarf, details he didn’t see the night
before.

“I’m okay, thanks. How are you?”

“Fine, thank you.”

“What would you like to order?” she asks him

with a beaming smile.

“Before I order, I have Tanzanian money. Can I

use it to pay?” Safi asks her.

“Don’t worry about that, we take a few foreign

currencies. We have a lot of truckers come through here
and we wouldn’t be in business if we refused their
money. By the way, where is the other twin?” she says.

“He’s not around. Maybe he’ll eat later,” he says.

“That’s fine, but you will have to settle the bill he

said he would pay this morning for last night’s food,” she
says.

“What?”

247
 She says nothing but gives him a warning look.

“Okay, that’s fine,” he says.

The sly idiot probably charmed his way out of

paying, knowing that he’ll not be around to settle the bill!

He gives the menu another quick look before

settling on the cheapest thing: one egg with one slice of
toasted brown bread and two slices of tomato, with an
extra slice of bread to fill up, and the complimentary cup
of coffee.

“Your order will be ready in a few minutes,” she

says as she takes the menu and leaves the table.

*****

Safi rushes through breakfast. He can’t tell if he even

tasted anything he ate.

His mind is rushing about the whereabouts of his

errant brother, and the bill he must now pay before he
leaves the dining room.

Do I have enough on me to pay?

He reaches for the wallet in his pocket, opens

the small black canvas pouch and counts the money.

The hair on the back of his neck stands straight

as he feels the laser stare coming from the waitress
behind him, slowly wiping down an already clean table
next to his. His shy grinning face slowly turns, intending
to reassure her, but only manages to make him look
shifty.

248
 “I’d like to pay,” he says to her, lifting the hand
holding the wallet up as a sign of good faith.

“Of course, both last night’s dinner and your

breakfast?” she asks, not really asking him but implying
that he is not going anywhere before the full debt is paid.

“Yes,” he responds.

She abandons her chore and goes behind the

counter to get the bill, and hands it to Safi, looking him
dead in the eye.

“Thank you,” he says.

He looks down at the bill, and stops himself from

gasping when he sees the amount of money he is about
to part with.

This is more money than it costs for me to eat for

a week back at home!

He swallows hard as he takes the money out of

the wallet, with the laser-stare waitress standing over
him to make sure he gets it right.

He places the exact amount on the small clip

board the waitress gave him the bill on, but an unsatisfied
look on her face tells him something is amiss.

He gives her a ‘what have I done wrong’ look.

“We expect tips for service from guests here,”

she says to him.

“What?” he asks.

249
 “A thank you for serving you and getting
everything you ask for? You don’t travel much, do you?”
she says to him.

The blank look on his face tells her she is getting

nothing out of the ignorant boy. She blatantly rolls her
eyes, takes the board and goes back to the till before he
has a chance to respond.

Safi quickly exits the dining room, avoiding eye

contact with the waitress.

*****

The bright morning sun stings Safi’s eyes as he exits the

inn after breakfast. He takes a few moments to adjust his
eyes.

Along the fence an elderly gentleman is busy

tending the miserable little flower bed.

“Morning, sir,” Safi says to the man kneeling

with his back to Safi.

He has a few flower pots on his left side, and two

empty ones on the right.

He looks up at Safi as he finishes patting down

the soil over the second plant he just planted.

It’s a delicate but pretty little yellow bloom, not

more than ten centimetres high.

Safi has no idea what the plants are. He likes the

dark purple in the middle of each flower.

250
 The old man says nothing but tilts the brim of his
khaki sun hat with the thumb and index finger while
balancing with a hand on his knee.

Safi gives him a shallow smile in exchange and

walks past him to exit the gate.

He walks around the corner to the establishment

that seemed to catch his brother’s attention the night
before, sensing it’s a strong possibility that’s where he
disappeared to.

He walks in and sees a woman sweeping the

reception area with a long brush broom. She does not
stop to see who it is, assuming one of last night’s visitors
came back to collect something he left behind.

“Excuse me,” he says.

She looks up but seems annoyed to be

interrupted.

“I’m looking for someone, he…,” he tries to

explain.

“He’s upstairs, room four,” she says, tilting her

head in the direction of the room he needs to go through,
then turns back to finish her task.

She knows who he’s referring to, his skin and

similarities to his brother are a dead giveaway.

“Thank you,” he leaves her to it and goes into

the room.

The liquor lounge is dark with curtains still

drawn. There are bottles of beer and other liquor all over
251
the floor and tables, glasses under chairs and snack
platters on the tables, some empty, others untouched.

A drunken man is sleeping off the previous

night’s booze in a chair in one corner of the room.

The smell of stale beer makes him pinch his nose

closed for a moment.

He walks up the stairs and looks for room four.

The door is closed. He knocks and gets no

response. He discovers the door is not locked when he
turns the handle.

The back of the door hits something as he opens

it. It is the brandy bottle the rookie brought upstairs last
night. It’s lying empty on the floor.

Asani’s pants are on the floor not far from the

bottle and they direct Safi’s eyes up and onto the bed.

A passed out Asani is sprawled out on the bed

between taupe sheets, both feet dangling off the far side
of the bed. His head is on the edge close to where Safi is
standing, his left arm hanging beside it.

Safi stands there deciding whether to be worried

about or angry at his dumb brother.

He settles on the latter when he remembers the

dining room tab he just had to pay.

“Asani,” he shouts to wake him.

Not getting a response, he slaps the hanging arm

as hard as he can.

252
 “Ahhh!” Asani wakes up from the stinging pain.

“Wake up, I can’t believe you spent the night

here,” he continues.

“Where am I?”

Asani lifts his head up and tries to find his

bearings.

“Get out of bed and let’s get out of this filthy

place,” shouts Safi.

His head hurts and his eyes can’t focus, nor can
he make sense of what Safi is going on about.

He slowly sits up.

It takes him a few minutes to come to his senses,

with Safi’s mumbling voice cluttering his mind but saying
nothing he wants to listen to.

His head is throbbing.

“Asani, get the hell up. Get dressed and let’s get
out of here.”

Asani finally hears his twin’s annoyance.

“Bloody hell, give me a few minutes,” he tries to

sound just as annoyed.

Holding the sheet around his waist with one

hand, he staggers his way around the bed gathering all
his clothing.

253
 He shuffles to the other side of the bed, looking
on the floor for any items he may own. He picks up his T-
shirt from the floor.

He gives Safi a look.

“What?” asks Safi.

“Do you mind, I’d like to get dressed.”

“Are you kidding?” Safi says before storming out

the room.

He leans against the wall across the door as he

waits.

Before long, Asani is done and out of the room,

but he stops as soon as he’s out the room.

“What?” Safi says impatiently.

“My wallet is gone. I have no money and my

wallet is gone,” he looks shocked as he says it.

“Are you sure? Did you look under the bed?” Safi
asks.

Asani goes back into the room without

responding to Safi and looks under the bed.

He comes back out.

“Nothing,” he says.

“Well, I’m sure the nice woman you spent the

night with helped herself to it. That’s why she’s here, you
idiot,” says Safi.

254
 Safi goes down the stairs, his shocked brother
lagging behind him.

The walk back to the hotel is silent, with Asani

walking a few paces behind Safi like a disappointed little
boy.

*****

Safi realises they can’t afford to stay another night at the

hotel, not even have another meal. All he has left in his
pocket will pay for the next lift out of Harare, and maybe
over to South Africa, nothing more.

They can’t suspend the next leg of their trip any

longer to avoid using any of that money on food.

He folds his meagre belongings, some still

slightly damp from the washing earlier, and packs them
into his backpack.

Asani walks in and looks confused by Safi’s

actions. Add to that his hangover and getting his head
around being a victim of robbery, he is in no position to
face whatever his brother is now up to.

“Start packing. We can’t afford to stay here since

you and whoever you spent the night with, squandered
the little money we had.”

He stops packing to confront Asani.

“On top of that, imagine my surprise when the

waitress tells me this morning that I owe her for last
night’s meal. What the hell is wrong with you?”

255
 Asani sits on his bed and buries his head in his
hands.

“We have so much riding on this, our whole lives,

and you waste money at a whore house! How the hell are
you going to get through this if this is the way you’ve
decided to behave?” his exaggerated gestures don’t
move Asani.

“Pack your damn bag and let’s go,” he shouts.

*****

The tension between the twins is palpable.

Safi is taking charge and making all the decisions,

not caring what Asani may think about of it. He’s in no
condition to think straight, considering that he’s
hungover, and feels stupid.

He does not care about the physical discomfort

Asani may be in as a result of his dirty night, he just needs
to comply or be left behind.

Safi goes to the loitering drivers at the same

truck stop they stopped at when they arrived in town the
night before.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for trucks going to

South Africa,” he asks a big guy in a white vest and khaki
shorts. The man’s crusty toes are peeking through the
gaps of his old black leather sandals like risen dough, a
fact he doesn’t seem to care much about considering
how comfortable the shoes must be for long distance
driving, in hot weather.

256
 He points about 50 metres ahead. Three truckers
sit huddled over plastic plates of beef stew and sadza.

“Excuse me. Sorry to interrupt your lunch. My

brother and I need a ride into South Africa. We’re
desperate,” Safi says once he reaches the drivers.

“How much do you have?” a thin, dark driver

says through a mouth full of food.

“Not much,” he says.

*****

Safi talks them onto a truck full of fat, dirty pink pigs. The
massive truck is white and old. It has horizontal metal
panels going around and over the back of the vehicle
where the pigs are tightly packed.

The driver refuses to have the boys ride in the

front with him because there would be no way to explain
them away at the Beit Bridge border, and he’s not risking
his job or freedom, so Safi and Asani have no choice but
to be hidden between the pigs. Their luggage at least
finds space in the front with the driver.

The pigs are restless and smelly, so the boys stay

standing until they become too tired to stay up. Half an
hour into the trip to the border, they are seated between
the hooves and on top of pig poop.

Asani feels sicker because of the combination of

the pigs and their poop, and his hangover. He wedges his
face through the side panels for fresh air, and to make
sure he doesn’t have to sit in his own vomit if he throws
up.

257
 The seven hour long trip is pure torture. The best
thing they can do when the driver stops for a short break
is stand up to stretch their legs and give their bottoms a
break. They each slowly drink one bottle of water during
the trip. Needing the bathroom is not an option.

Once they reach the border, the place is packed

and busy. They can’t really tell what’s going on because
they have to stay hidden at the back of the truck in case
there’s an inspection of some sort.

They can hear the driver getting out of the front

and closing the door again. He disappears for a while
before coming back with someone. They walk around the
truck and talk. The fat pigs muffle the sound so the twins
can’t make out what’s being said.

Their only worry is being found if, for some

reason, officials decide to empty the back for a thorough
look.

The muffled chat disappears and a few minutes

later the driver opens the door and gets back into the
truck. He starts the engine and the truck jerks out of its
parking position.

*****

They reach Musina thirty minutes after crossing the

border into South Africa. The driver’s risk ends here. He
drops them off after he takes his turn off from the N1
highway.

The pair decides to sleep out in the open close

enough to the highway so it’s easier for them to find
transport again the following day, and because it’s after
258
9pm and they have no energy or money to find another
place to sleep. They walk a short distance to a tree in the
veld off the road.

They smell and they are hungry and thirsty, but

they need to rest more than to meet all their other needs.

As luck would have it, the sound of a small

stream close by lets them know that a lifeline has been
thrown to them. Not only have they found water to drink,
but they can also clean themselves and get out of the
dirty clothes before sleeping under the tree.

The headlights from passing cars are their only

source of light.

*****

Freedom never felt so good.

Safi is the first to wake in their temporary shelter

and takes that moment to savour the feeling of freedom.

The sun is rising and the beautiful scenery

around him makes him want to take in all the nature like
he never fully enjoyed growing up. Plus, the passed out
Asani makes for peace and quiet for a few minutes.

About 50 metres from the tree his twin is still

snoozing under, he walks to the left to find a spot he can
enjoy in solitude.

The crisp air is sweetened by the smell of the

grass and a quick memory pounces on him unexpectedly.

The night Omary and Juma took him and Asani

uphill to safety was filled with greenery of another kind.
259
That memory made him think of trees and nature in a
more negative way than he does now.

This greenery represents something positive. He

sees a beauty he never saw before. He smells it too.

He sees a stack of large rocks and makes his way

to it to enjoy the morning sun.

It takes him a few seconds to ascend the stack

and perch himself on the highest one.

He faces the rising sun and sits with his arms

wrapped around his raised knees.

He closes his eyes and the heat of the first rays

of the morning sun hit his face like he has never
experienced before.

The red glow of the sun through his closed

eyelids paints his imagination with a tint of pink. He
consciously breathes in the crisp, fresh morning air.

His bliss is interrupted when Asani invades the

moment.

“What are you doing?” asks Asani.

“Trying to get peace and quiet before you wake

up,” Safi’s eyes are still closed but the moment is over.

Slowly he opens his eyes and Asani comes into

focus standing about three metres from the rock pile.

It takes a few seconds for the pink in his vision to

subside, but the glow of the sun keeps the warmth
caressing his skin.

260
 He descends his happy hill and walks past his
brother to get back to the tree that sheltered them
through the night, and where their possessions still
stand.

“What do we do now?” Asani asks Safi as he

follows him.

He stops to give the answer thought. Asani

catches up.

“I have no idea. We have to go into town and

find something, anything to move us to the next step,”
responds Safi.

“What next step?” he asks like a child looking for

guidance.

Safi stops, his shoulders slumping under the

imaginary weight Asani is dumping on him.

“I said I don’t know. How about you help me

figure it out,” he raises his arms high to mimic his raising
voice. They drop back to his sides, whacking his thighs
hard enough to make a slapping sound.

Asani stops staring at him and overtakes him to

the tree.

“Relax! I thought you had a plan in mind. Bloody

well attack me so early in the morning,” he mumbles
under his breath.

Safi squeezes his eye shut and clenches his fists

tighter to stop himself from screaming.

261
 His simmering blood colours his face and the
tension in his muscles take away the good feelings his
time on the rock gave him.

He opens his eyes before the anger takes over,

and he looks back at the rock.

Slowly he turns around to catch up to Asani,

dreading the day and what it has to bring.

262
 New beginnings

The delicious smell of roast chicken from the front of the

van is excruciating to the hungry pair. The window of the
small old pale yellow Isuzu van between the three-seater
front and the trunk is open. The driver and his passenger
do not conceal that they are eating without offering Safi
and Asani food.

It’s just after 2pm. The twins’ morning started

slow. Fatigue from the trip is setting in.

The hitchhiking brothers are picked up along the

road not far from where they spent the night on the
outskirts of Musina. They have no idea where they are
heading. They take the first offer of a lift from the van,
and the driver does so out of the kindness of his heart
when the twins tell him they don’t have the fare he
wants.

263
 Asking him to share his meal would be asking too
much.

The ride is surprisingly smooth considering they

are both sitting on top of the metal wavy floor of the
open trunk. Safi is seated on the driver’s side, Asani on
the passenger’s.

They lean on the dividing wall between the back

and the front section, partly placing their heads on the
small open window between the two sections of the car.

They have no idea where the driver is taking

them, and how far they have to drive to get there, so
they just sit and endure the ride, delicious chicken smell
and all.

Every now and then Asani peeps through the

window to see if there’s a possible end to the trip.

The car pulls in at a small petrol station off the

main road and parks in one of the public parking spaces
near the entrance. The worn-off paint of the place looks
like it used to be red. The white letters on the roof say
‘TOT’ and paint stain evidence of the missing ‘AL’ at the
end spells out TOTAL.

The ride was no longer than forty five minutes.

At least they are back in civilisation again. Sort of. The
station is the only building on the road. Only two staff
members are on duty, one inside the store and the other
at the pumps.

The driver gets out of the car and makes his way
to the back.

“This is it, boys,” he says.

264
 He bangs on the side of the trunk to indicate
they need to hop out of the car.

Safi is the first to exit with his luggage.

“Thank you, sir,” he says.

“Good luck to the both of you. We have to get

back to work,” says the driver.

He starts off back into the car, then pauses as he

reaches the door.

“Where are you fellows from? You don’t sound

South African,” he asks.

Asani’s slow exit means he’s only now walking

around the car to catch up with Safi and the driver.

“We’re from Tanzania,” Safi says.

“You’re here to work?”

“Yes,” responds Safi.

The driver reaches into his right pocket and takes

out a red banknote Safi can’t identify.

“Good luck to the both of you,” he says, shaking

Safi’s hand and placing the note in his hand at the same
time.

Safi nods to say ‘thank you’.

He turns back and gets into the van and reverses

out.

Asani gives them a wave.

265
 *****

“That was horrible!” says Asani.

“Really? We rode on coal and with shitty pigs for

longer than this and THIS is the horrible part of the trip?”

“I meant they could have closed the window if

offering us food was too much,” he responds.

“You’re ungrateful. I don’t even know why I’m

surprised by what just came out your mouth.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Asani dismisses Safi.

He walks to the bench against the wall close to

the parking lot and puts his bag on it. Safi follows him.

Safi opens his hand and looks at the note the

driver gave him.

There are two pictures of lions, one full body and

the second of just the lion’s face and ‘R50’ on one side.
Nelson Mandela’s friendly smile is on the other side, and
‘R50’ repeated on both sides of Mandela’s face.

“Where did you get that from?” Asani asks.

“The driver gave it to me.”

“How much is it?”

“Fifty rands, I think.”

“I hope it’s enough to feed us both because I’m

hungry.”

266
 Safi gives him a dirty look and shoves the R50
note into his pocket before taking a seat next to Asani’s
bag, leaving his own on the dirty ground.

“What now?”

“This may be the only thing that helps us get

somewhere to sleep tonight, and you would rather use it
to eat right now?”

He takes a step close to Safi, as if to intimidate

him.

“We haven’t eaten in two days.”

“Do not stand over me.”

Asani sits on the other side of the bag.

“We need to figure out what to do next. You

need to take this seriously.”

“What makes you think I don’t?”

“The waste of money on whores for one, the

drinking and now you’re looking at me to feed you after
your selfishness this whole trip.”

“You’re talking as if I’ve asked you to take over. I

haven’t. Stop taking over and then blaming me for
everything when it becomes too much for you. Besides, if
my contributions are so useless, I should have let you get
us to Harare too,” Asani stands up again.

Safi stands up as well.

“You know what, you’re right. We need to figure

our own way separately going forward. I can’t carry you
267
with me for the rest of our lives,” Safi says. He knows he
means it.

“Maybe we should.”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what? You want a way out. I’m giving it to

you.”

Safi takes a few seconds to take a few breaths.

“We’re tired and I’m not going to fight with you.

Let’s just rest and get through tonight and see what
tomorrow’s like. If you still hate me then, we’ll split up,”
Safi says in a more sober manner.

“We’re sleeping here?”

“You have a better idea, and the money to pay

for it?”

“This is ridiculous,” Asani says under his breath.

*****

It was the longest night ever. The boys’ bottoms are as

sore as they’ve ever been from trying to sleep sitting on
the hard concrete bench all night.

Asani’s legs are stretched out in front of him and

crossed at the ankles. His bottom is almost at the edge of
the seat. His arms are folded in the front. He leans on the
bench with his head bent forward. He is fast asleep.

Safi can’t wait to get off the bench. Before the

sun is up, he shakes Asani awake.

268
 “We should set off before the sun’s up. We
might as well get something to eat. I’m gonna check the
shop,” Safi tells his sleepy brother.

He takes the short walk to the garage store. The

automatic sliding door gives way, which surprises Safi.

He steps forward then disappears inside.

“Morning, I’m looking for something cheap for

my brother and I to eat,” he says to the young man
behind the counter.

“What are you looking to spend?” the store clerk

asks. He looks about the same age as Safi.

He holds the red note up, still unsure what the

real value is.

The store clerk points to the warmer shelf at the

back of the store.

“Check out the pre-packed meals from last night,

they are cheaper because they are a few hours old.”

Safi walks to the shelf and inspects the meals.

The polystyrene plates contain different chicken pieces
and a generous helping of a white substance that looks
like ugali. The food is almost swimming in thick gravy that
goes with the chicken.

He takes two of the plates left on the shelf and

goes back to the counter.

“What is this,” he asks the clerk, pointing at the

ugali-looking stuff.

269
 “It’s pap. You don’t know it? Where are you
from?” the clerk asks.

“We have ugali in Tanzania.”

“No pap in Tanzania? You’re going to eat plenty

of it here, my man. It’s the best. It keeps you full for
long.”

“Forty for both?”

“Yes, nothing to drink?”

“No more money.”

“Cool.”

Safi gives him the money.

“Take this cup, there’s a tap on the right side of

the building. In case you want water,” the clerk says,
handing Safi a polystyrene cup. It looks used, but Safi
doesn’t care.

“Here you go,” he gives him a green note for

change.

“Thank you,” Safi says.

He leaves the store.

The door opens a few steps before he can exit.

He stops and turns around to look at the clerk again.

“I saw signs for lodges around here. Where’s the

closest one?” Safi asks.

270
 “Turn left on the road out of the garage. There
are two about eight kilometres from here. One about a
kilometre from the other,” the clerk says.

“Thank you so much,” Safi says.

“Sure, boss,” the clerk says.

He leaves the store and heads back to his

brother, who is now waiting with baited breath after
seeing the door open long before Safi came out.

“Find something? I’m starving,” Asani almost

shouts before Safi reaches him.

“Yes, here. We have to eat and get going.

There’s lodge up the street and we can get there before
it gets too hot,” Safi says.

He hands over one of the plates and sits in his

spot. He breaks the see-through plastic covering the food
and the smell that escapes is the best thing he’s smelled
for days.

“Lodge, for what? Did you just rob the store and
now you have money for accommodation?” Asani says.

Asani starts digging into his food with his right

hand, holding the plate with the left.

“Don’t be stupid. We need work and we might as

well start looking now and at the closest place we can
reach on foot,” Safi says, taking the first taste of his food.

“I’m not looking for work. We just got here and

we don’t even know the place yet,” Asani protests.

271
 “We need to know the place to start working?
And what are we going to eat and where are we going to
sleep while we get to know the place?”

They go through the food quicker than they

realise.

“You can look for work if you want. I need to see

what’s available here to see if I want to commit to
anything yet,” Asani says.

Safi pauses eating and looks at Asani.

“I love how you think you have a lot of choices

here. We don’t have the luxury of time and money. We
need to find something quickly, even if it’s for a short
time so we have money to go somewhere else if we need
to,” Safi says.

“Whatever, I’m not working,” Asani says.

“Suit yourself.”

They concentrate on the last few bites and

abandon the conversation.

“Safi, what did we just eat? I know it’s chicken,

but what is the other white thing with the gravy?” Asani
says once his plate is clean.

“It’s pap. Reminds me of ugali, but a little

different, and now I’m so full I can’t move. That guy
wasn’t lying when he said it’s filling,” Safi says.

“We have to rest this off. My stomach hurts. I

think I ate too much and too fast,” Asani says.

272
 “We’re leaving in ten minutes,” Safi says.

*****

The walk takes almost two hours, but it feels longer

because they have no idea where they are going, or how
long it will take to get there.

The cars swishing past from behind them on the

narrow road unnerve them, so Asani follows Safi to the
other side of the road so they can see the cars coming.

“So, what’s the plan?” Asani asks.

“There’s no real plan. I need to get a job and

take it from there,” Safi says.

“Great plan.”

“You have a better idea?”

“Not yet, but I’m sure I will think of one. We

don’t even know if we’re staying here for very long. This
place is small and quiet. I don’t see the point,” Asani
sounds sure of his take on the situation.

“I see. So how are you planning to survive or get

to wherever you think ‘we’ may go next?”

Safi’s emphasis on ‘we’ stings Asani.

He stops walking. Safi stops too.

“What?” Safi asks.

“What do you mean ‘we’? Did you really mean it

about doing our own thing going forward?”

273
 “We are grown men, Asani. We can’t be joined at
the hip forever, especially seeing that we want to do
different things. I’m just being realistic.”

“Or a jerk. Why is everything always so damn

serious with you? We just got here. Live a little. This is the
freest we’ve ever been. It’s the safest we’ve been in a
long time, so enjoy it before committing your time, your
freedom, to working for someone.”

“That’s a lovely way to look at things,

considering neither one of us can afford to do that!”

They start walking again.

“That was a useless conversation!” Asani says.

“What did you expect?”

“Absolutely nothing!”

The remainder of the walk is silent.

*****

‘Uthando Lodge’, on the right side of the road, is a small

white Cape Dutch building on a large property.

A few stables and horses are visible at a distance.

The gate is closed.

“I think you have to press that button to speak

to someone inside,” Asani says, pointing at the intercom.

Safi walks up to the intercom on the right side of

the gate and presses the button.

274
 “Uthando Lodge, hello,“ says the female voice
on the other side of the intercom.

“Hello, this is Safi Masalu. I’m looking for a job,”

he says.

There’s a click on the other side. No one

responds to him.

“Hello? Hello?” he tries again.

“No jobs here,” the voice says and hangs up

again.

He steps away and stands there for a moment.

“What now?” Asani says.

“We keep trying at different places,” he

responds.

“We could fail at every lodge we go to,” says

Asani.

“That’s possible, but we have no choice,” Says

Safi.

He gets back on the road to the next lodge.

*****

The second lodge is ahead of them to the left. It’s on The

Musina Game Reserve and is built from brown rustic
bricks and a whole lot of thatch. From where they are,
the buildings are expansive and visible beyond the
entrance, which is an arching pile of brown brick with its
own cap of thatch. A high and black fence snakes around
the property in a solid flow.
275
 Under the arch, a heavy black metal gate secures
the property.

The small security booth to the right of the arch

only becomes visible once they get to the entrance, so
does the name ‘The Birds and the Bees’. It’s written on
gold plates in cursive on the top part of the arch.

Safi is eager to get the attention of whoever is

inside the booth and starts walking faster than Asani.

“What are you going to say to get them to let

you in?” Asani asks him.

“I don’t know.”

He doesn’t hesitate to knock on the glass

window. The absent-minded attendant on the other side
looks up from his cellphone, almost jumping out of his
chair from fright.

He stands and slides the window right to open it.

“Good morning,” the man says.

The nametag says Alfred.

“Good morning, sir. We are here to see the

manager. We have an appointment with him,” Safi gets
ahead of himself.

Only after he says that does he wonder if the

manager could possibly be a woman, or if Alfred would
check for such an appointment.

Asani stays a few steps to Safi’s right, trying to

stay out of Alfred’s view.

276
 “Please sign the register,” Alfred says.

He wedges an A4 size book and a blue click pen

through the bars between them.

“Just leave the ones that don’t apply to you

open,” Alfred says.

The glare of the sun on the white paper is too

much for him even from behind his sunglasses. He takes a
few moments to get the right angle to avoid the worst of
the sun.

“Name, cell number, reason for visit, car

registration, signature,” Safi reads the headings out loud
as he fills the form.

He gives the book and pen back once he’s done.

Alfred has a glance at it.

“No cell number?” he asks.

“I don’t have a cellphone,” Safi says.

Alfred gives him a sceptical look.

“And him?” he points at Asani with the pen in his

left hand.

Asani is now leaning against the wall trying not

to be part of the exchange.

“We both don’t have phones,” Safi says.

“Ok. Please hold on while I get your passes,”

says Alfred.

277
 Asani can’t believe his brother’s stupid plan is
working.

“Thank you, sir,” says Safi.

*****

“So much for security, he doesn’t even know us and he

let us in without checking,” Asani says.

“Maybe he can read people, and I came up

clean,” Safi says.

The walk up to the main building is a little

steeper than they thought it would be.

The building is even bigger up close, but Safi

doesn’t take in his surrounding as he rushes to the main
door.

Asani lags behind and looks around. The cement

garden bench under the big tree a short distance to the
right of the building gets his attention.

“I’m going over there to take a seat. I’ll wait for

you there,” he points to the bench.

“You’re seriously not going to try?” Safi asks

him.

“Not today,” he responds with his back to Safi as

he walks towards the bench.

“Whatever,” an irritated Safi steps up the stairs

to the main door.

Once inside, the cool air from the air conditioner

immediately gives him relief from the heat outside.
278
 He takes off his dirty black cap.

“Morning, ma’am. I’m here to see the manager,”

he says to the middle-aged woman behind the dark
brown wooden counter to the left of the lobby.

“Morning, sir. Welcome to ‘The Birds and the

Bees’. Is Mr Dumond expecting you?” the lady asks him.

Her nametag has ‘NTOMBI’ written on it. Safi

doesn’t know how to pronounce it, so he doesn’t try.

“Not really,” he’s unsure if that was the right

answer.

“Sir, we don’t really do walk-ins. May I ask what

you would like to see him about, Mr…?”

“My name is Safi Masalu. I’m looking for

employment.” He takes off his sunglasses.

She wants to throw him out, but Safi is making

direct eye contact with her, so she gives in.

“Let me see if he’s available. Please take a seat

over there,” she points to the two armchairs across the
lobby and walks to her left towards the door at the end
of the lobby.

*****

The office door the lady disappeared behind a few

minutes ago clicks and flings opens. She comes out and a
tall white man walks out behind her. He closes the door
behind him.

279
 Safi springs up from his chair. He picks his
backpack up from the floor and flings it over his left
shoulder before approaching the pair.

The woman goes back to her counter and the

man walks towards Safi.

“I understand you are looking for me?” he

extends his right hand to shake Safi’s.

He has a friendly face.

“I’m Lionel Brian Dumond, the manager. You

are?”

“I’m Safi Masalu.”

The name and his accent puzzle Lionel Brian

Dumond.

“Where are you from?” he asks Safi.

“Tanzania. I’m here to work. I’m willing to do any

job you have,” Safi starts his bidding.

“Let’s go into my office,” says the manager.

The woman behind the counter side-eyes the

two as they disappear into the manager’s office.

“That’s a first!” she says under her breath.

*****

What is taking Safi so long? It’s getting hot out here.

Besides, look at this place. There’s no way he’s just

going to walk in and get a job at a fancy place like this.

280
 *****

A triumphant-looking Safi is all smiles when he comes out

of the office. The two men walk through the lobby and
out of the building. Asani looks decidedly bored, slowly
circling the tree like a child.

He stops when he sees Safi and the manager

approaching.

“This is my brother, Asani,” Safi introduces the

two.

“Your brother tells me you don’t want a job?”

Asani looks at Safi.

“I’m not ready yet,” Asani defends himself.

“You would be wise to copy your brother.

Chances and opportunities pass. You may take longer
than you think to get a job when you decide you’re
ready,” Mr Dumond says.

The unsolicited advice falls on Asani’s deaf ears.

“Anyway, Safi starts work next Tuesday. You can

stay here only through the weekend but you have to
share your brother’s room. I can’t be generous beyond
that.”

“The two of you wait here while I get someone

to take you to the staff quarters and tell you how things
work around here. I have to get back to work.”

“Thank you so much, sir,” Safi says.

He shakes his new boss’s hand.

281
 “I like you, I can see how much you want this,”
Mr Dumond says.

He walks back to his office.

*****

“I’m impressed! I didn’t think you had a chance but I’m

really impressed,” Asani says.

Safi throws his backpack on the ground and sits

on the bench.

Asani sits down next to him.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Safi says.

“Wow, now I have to figure out where I’m going

after the weekend.”

“I guess so.”

Safi takes off his sunglasses and props up his

bent elbows on his knees. He lowers his head to his hands
and rubs his eye.

“Are they gonna feed us through the weekend?”

Asani asks Safi.

Safi’s head slowly turns from his hands. Out of

irritation, he gives Asani a dirty look.

*****

Most of the lodge’s staff is around on Tuesday, with

some not working on Mondays due to weekend functions
at the lodge and conference centres.

282
 At least fifteen people are on duty at any given
time, and the Tuesday that Safi starts working is no
different.

Mr Dumond has instructed Safi to meet him and

the other staff members in the main building of the lodge
at 7am for the staff meeting. That way he can meet his
co-workers.

The staff meeting room is at the back of the

administration block to the left of the lobby entrance, the
same block Safi visited three days before for his
impromptu job interview. He walks past the room he had
the interview in and a few others, eventually arriving at
the meeting room.

The room, or the ‘fish tank’ as staff call it, is at

the end of the corridor and all the walls are glass, with
the outside wall acting as a window to the outside as
well.

Safi approaches the room, seeing that everybody

is seemingly there and ahead of time because he is right
on time.

Mr Dumond, one of three faces he can identify in

the room, is already in position to address the staff.

The other two are the lady he met before Mr

Dumond, and the man who took care of him and Asani
through the weekend.

In his haste to get in undetected, he does not

notice the difference between the open glass door a little
off the middle of the wall to the left and the glass panel
to the right of the door.

283
 The nervous Safi runs straight into the wall and
his face splatters hard on the glass. His tall frame wilts
down to the floor and he lands on his back, knocked out
cold.

Everybody in the room is watching the new guy’s

embarrassing first meeting ‘non-entrance’ in absolute
silence.

“My goodness, Ndumiso, you did a great job

cleaning that glass!” Mr Dumond cracks a joke.

Everyone erupts into laughter.

*****

The throbbing headache wakes Safi. He finds himself in a

strange room, with a white ceiling as his view. It takes
him a few second to get the light fixture above his head
into focus.

His left hand floats in open air as he tries to find

the ground, now remembering that was his last
destination before the lights went out.

Mr Dumond clears his throat.

Safi turns his head left. He sees Mr Dumond

behind the desk a few feet from where he is.

He lifts his head and sits up too quickly, sending

his head into a spin.

“Slow down, you’ve had quite a knock. Look at

that shining red knob on your forehead, you’re lucky your
nose stayed out of the action, my china,” Mr Dumond
284
makes no effort to tame his laughter as he updates the
company newbie on his status.

Safi holds the side of the couch to balance as he

unsuccessfully tries to get up.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Mr Dumond

says.

He gets up from his chair and goes around the

desk, sitting on the front of it close to Safi.

“I’m sorry I missed the meeting, sir.”

“Don’t worry about it. We have meetings every

Tuesday and Friday, I’m sure you’ll soon dread them as
much as some of the staff do.”

Safi manages to get up on his second attempt.

“We’ll just take it easy today. Let’s get all the

admin out of the way and show you around the place.
You’ll learn how things work around here starting
tomorrow.”

“Admin?”

“Yes. HR has to do all the paperwork and get you

onto our books and working legally. You have your
passport and documents allowing you to work here,
right?”

Safi hesitates.

“My brother and I have never had birth

certificates and such documents,” Safi starts.

285
 “We were brought up by my grandmother and
she was afraid to register us so we could stay hidden.

The deep lines between Mr Dumond’s eyebrows

show his confusion.

“What are you talking about? Why would you

want to be ‘hidden’?” he asks.

“Where we come from, being albino is

dangerous. It’s a battle just to stay alive. We have been
chased all our lives by people wanting to kill us so they
can make potions using our body parts. Apparently we
have magical powers we don’t know about,” Safi says.

Mr Dumond stands up straight.

“What?”

Mr Dumond’s lines have moved up to his

forehead now, pushed up by his gaping mouth.

“That’s why we are here. We were running away

from the hunters and our path led us here. We hiked and
got through all the borders from Tanzania in not-so-legal
ways, but we had no other choice.”

“I have never heard of such a thing! You will

have to tell me more about that later. For now, we will
need to go to Home Affairs for an Asylum Seeker visa. Is
your brother still here?”

“Yes, he is, but he’s not staying.”

“He’ll have to until your visas are sorted. I’ll help

you with that today but I don’t know what the whole
process is. He may have to stay until he gets his
286
documents because regardless where he goes, he’ll need
them to get a job,” Mr Dumond.

“Today?”

“You can’t work here until all this is done, my

friend,” Mr Dumond says. He walks back to his seat.

“Okay, I’ll go get him. We will be back in a few

minutes,” Safi says.

“Don’t take too long. The earlier we get there,

the better.”

“Thank you, sir,” Safi says.

“It looks like it’s time to change your luck now

after a lifetime of bad luck,” Mr Dumond gives him a
smile.

*****

Safi’s first call to Omary to check on him and Bibi is nerve-

wracking. It’s the first time he uses the numbers Omary
handed to him when he left them at the farm.

“Safi, I’m so glad to finally hear from you. How

are you two doing?” Omary asks.

“Everything is great, thank you. I found a job I

like here. You do know we travelled down to South
Africa, right?” Safi asks Omary.

“Mr Allen told me. He also tells me his decision

may have saved your lives too. The man he was shielding
you from came back pretending to want to do business
287
with Mr Allen. He lost interest after realising that you
were no longer there,” Omary explains.

“What?” Safi can’t believe it.

“It seems like you two have more lives than a

cat.”

“Ha?”

“Never mind,” Omary dismisses him.

“How’s Bibi doing?” Safi gets to the reason for

his call.

“She’s well. She’ll be thrilled to hear you called

and are doing well. You never told me about Asani. How
is he?” Omary diverts the conversation.

Safi exhales audibly.

“What is that?” Omary asks.

“He’s still figuring things out. He lives a bit of

distance from where I am but we see each other every
few days or so,’ Safi is deliberately vague.

“I’m sure he’ll get there.”

“I hope so.”

*****

The transition is harder than Asani imagined it would be.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself. He has

no real picture of what he wants to do with his life. So he
roams aimlessly to pass time.

288
 That first month, Asani smooth-talks his way to
free rent in one of the backrooms he finds in the
township in Musina. He plays the ‘helpless and new guy in
town’ card. His landlady is an old motherly woman who
gives him a chance only because she hopes someone
would do the same for the grandchildren she’s bringing
up.

Sfiso is his neighbour in one of the backrooms

It’s his neighbour who introduces him to the

township life, and drives him around, initially as his token
white-skinned friend.

They become friends with a vice to bond over –

alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol. And partying and
roaming the streets like trouble-makers.

Asani drinks so much that after paying his rent

from the few piece jobs he holds, every other rand goes
towards buying beer and food. It’s a miracle he can do
the jobs – cleaning the local store first thing every
morning, then off to do garden maintenance jobs around
the neighbourhood, including cleaning up his landlady’s
yard for discounted rent.

His evenings and weekends are almost always

free to occupy the passenger seat in Sfiso’s car and hop
around the watering holes in Musina.

*****

Thandi’s is one of the first faces Safi sees every day when
he comes into work. The first thing he notices about her
is her perfect brown skin, like strong creamed coffee. Her
289
long dreadlocks are always in an impeccable bun on top
of her head.

Her smile always puts Safi in a good mood.

She has dimples that hypnotise him because she

makes it a point to smile at him.

As the client liaison officer, her duties have

nothing to do with making and bringing Safi his coffee
every morning. But without fail, she’s there with the cup
every morning. He never had a preference to how he
takes his coffee because he has never been a coffee
person, but he gave into how Thandi decided for him was
the way to have it: two sugars and lots of milk.

“Morning, Safi. How was your weekend?” she

chimes her Monday greeting even before she gets into
Safi’s office.

His back is turned to the open door and she

takes it as an invitation to come in when he turns to face
her.

He drops whatever papers he was busy with and

gives her his full attention.

“It was good, thank you. How was yours?” he

gives her his usual response.

“I worked this weekend. I’m taking Thursday and

Friday off for a long weekend. I’ll be going home to see
my family.” That’s a departure from the usual script.

“Where is your family?”

290
 “In Polokwane. It’s just my mother and two
younger sisters. The rest of us are scattered all over the
place, mostly in Gauteng for work.”

“How many are you?”

She lets out a shy laugh.

“We are Africans. Extended family is as good as

immediate family.”

“Oh, okay.” This is foreign to him, having known

only his grandmother and brother as family.

She looks down at her hand and realises she’s

still holding his coffee.

“Before your coffee gets cold. Milk and two

sugars, just like you like it.”

He reaches for it, grasping the wide cup with no

regard for burning his hand.

“Thank you,” he says

“Any time.”

He watches her walk out of the office, his eyes

scaling down to her bottom as her hips swish side to side
in her work skirt.

He only looks away once she’s out of sight.

*****

“This is for work. You need to be accessible when I need

you,” Mr Dumond hands Safi a shiny black Samsung
smartphone.

291
 He can’t believe his luck. He has no idea how to
use the phone, but he’s excited to have it.

It seems his new boss has taken a liking to Safi.

The greying blond man always makes it a point

to mention his first, middle and last name when
introducing himself to a new person. As a result everyone
calls him by all three names, or LBD for short.

He took Safi under his wing from the moment

the unsure young man came knocking at the lodge to ask
for work, any work.

The only skills he knows he has, with not much

experience to back him, are from his time at the farm in
Dar.

For a few weeks on the job, Safi is not sure what

his position is.

Despite his doubt in himself, Safi is fortunate

that LBD is watching him and wants to know what he is
good at before slotting him into a job. He realises how
keen Safi is as a reader, and enlists him to assist with his
admin in the office. They share the big desk in the same
room they had his interview, with Safi’s chair opposite
LBD.

Once he gets comfortable in the office, he does

not ask LBD but takes it upon himself to tidy the office
and create a filing system because the disorder was too
much for him.

LBD does not object.

*****
292
Safi’s never been a swimmer, but he enjoys the cool
water in the rarely used staff indoor pool on the grounds
of the lodge.

It gets hotter than most can handle in the middle

of summer. Despite the fact that he came from a town
280 kilometres below the equator, where 30˚C is an easy
average, and where seasons are split between wet or dry
but hot seasons. He prefers cooler temperatures.

This is also where he collects his thoughts.

He sits at the edge of the shallow side of the

pool, the side furthest from the entrance to the pool.

This works best for the days he’s so tired that

relaxing results in him nodding off. The further he is from
the door, the easier it is for him to recline on the lounge
chair sponges while his feet soak in the cold water
without being disturbed.

This is his quiet time. It’s the time he can be at

peace without isolating himself in his living quarters.

So he does it most days and the people around

him slowly understand that this ritual is sacred to him.

*****

It is Sunday morning and Thandi is dressed up and ready

to get going. A few times Safi has seen her leave her
place but never asks where she’s going for fear of being
intrusive. He assumes she’s going to church. Where else
could she be going on a Sunday morning?

This Sunday, she is aware of him watching her

from the armchair on his little porch as she leaves her
293
living quarters. All the staff houses lead into a central
courtyard they use to enter and exit their homes.

He’s expecting to exchange the usual wave with

her and then carry on reading his book or the Sunday
paper.

She walks to his little corner, which surprises

him. He sits up straight in his chair.

“Good morning,” she flashes a smile that

unnerves Safi.

“Good morning.”

“You have five minutes to get dressed. You’re

coming to church with me today,” Thandi tells Safi.

Safi nearly gets a word out his mouth before

Thandi stops him.

“This is not a debate. I watch you sit here every

Sunday when I leave for church. Unless you follow
another religion, you are coming with me.”

He has nothing to say, except: “Okay.”

“Chop chop, four minutes. You wasted a minute

arguing with me,” she says.

“But I didn’t… never mind.”

He gets up from the chair and goes inside the

house.

She takes his chair and pages through the

newspaper.

294
 *****

Thandi is starting to grow on him, but Safi’s memory of

the pain he felt when Lucy rejected him reminds him why
he’ll never do anything about his feelings for Thandi.

Having to see the beautiful, cheeky and assertive

woman every day is torture.

But he will suffer in silence because he knows

how this ends.

*****

“Do you not like me?” Thandi asks Safi bluntly.

“What?” he’s surprised by the question. And he’s

shocked that she may feel the same way about him as he
does about her.

She corners him in the office, pretending the

only reason for being there is to bring him his daily cup of
coffee.

“It’s been months and I think I’ve given you all

the indications that I have feelings for you and you do
nothing short of giving me the cold shoulder,” she says.
Her hurt comes across as anger.

Safi doesn’t know what to say.

“Say something,” she says louder than she

intended to.

He puts down the pen he was using and gets up

from LBD’s chair.

295
 “Hm, I’m sorry I’ve made you feel that way. I
didn’t mean to,” he says.

“Well, you do, and I want to know why. If you

don’t like me I want to know so I can move on,” she
demands.

“Thandi, I do like you,” he is scared to say the

words, but once he starts talking, he can’t stop.

“I’ve liked you from the first day we met. I didn’t

think you saw me in that way and I didn’t want to offend
you, or make things awkward between us since we have
to see each other every day. But I think you are beautiful.
Just being around you makes me happy.”

She puts the cup on the table and walks around

to his side of the desk.

She pulls him close by his shirt collar and stands

on her toes to reach his face.

She kisses him. The tears on her face wet his

cheeks. It takes him a few seconds to catch up and then
he puts his arms around her waist, picking her up off the
ground.

They are both carried away by the kiss.

*****

They spend every possible minute after work together.

Nothing and no one else seem to matter to Safi and
Thandi.

296
 They are both home bodies, so it doesn’t bother
either one when they spend most of their time at the
lodge taking walks or in Thandi’s living quarters.

It has a feminine touch that Safi’s doesn’t.

Besides, Safi doesn’t care where they spend time
together, as long as he gets to be with her.

They are inseparable.

*****

“So, how is it being with an albino?”

The question catches Thandi off guard. The two

women are enjoying pastries during their tea break.

“What?” she asks Ntombi.

“You know?”

“No, I don’t.”

“You know we grew up with our prejudices

against albino. And personally, I don’t know any albino
people. I was wondering what they are like,” Ntombi
asks.

“They’re people, like the rest of us,” Thandi is

irritated.

“You didn’t grow up hearing things like ‘albino

people don’t die’?”

She feels awkward because the respect she’s

always shown Ntombi as someone older than her
restricts her from telling her how ignorant she sounds.

297
 “Yes, I did. But thankfully my mother had
enough sense to teach me differently,” Thandi says.

Ntombi gets the message and closes the subject.

“Break’s over. We better get back to work

before we get into trouble,” Ntombi says.

She leaves Thandi in the staff lounge and walks

back to the front desk.

*****

Safi’s been saving for months for a ring. He has always

known Thandi was the woman he would marry. He
doesn’t want to waste time to start living the family life
he’s always wanted.

He takes LBD to the jewellery store in town over

lunch. It has less to do with wanting his input on the
choice of ring than it is to create an alibi for when Thandi
looks for him for their standing lunch date.

“What do you think?” Safi holds the ring he’s

chosen out of the blue velvet rack the sales lady has
taken out for him at Diamond & Co. He makes a point to
ask for a range within his budget.

“I like that better,” LBD points to another ring.

Safi laughs.

“I’m sure that would look gorgeous on your

chunky finger, but what do you think Thandi would like
and look good wearing,” Safi says.

The sales lady laughs. LBD joins her.

298
 “I just see her when I look at this,” Safi pushes to
get LBD’s buy-in on his choice.

“That is all that matters,” LBD says.

“Then this is the ring.” He gives it to the sales

lady. She takes the rack to place back in the glass case.

LBD stops her by placing his right hand on hers.

He’s leaning on the glass with his left elbow.

“Humour me.” He puts his left hand out and

signals Safi to put the ring he likes on his finger. All the
fingers are bent except the ring finger.

Safi smiles, then picks up the ring.

“I think we need your pinky for this one,” Safi

says.

The sales lady is watching the comical scene.

LBD holds out the pinky.

Safi clears his throat.

“Lionel Brian Dumond, would you do me the

honour of being my beautiful and loving wife?”

LBD puts his right hand over his open mouth as if

surprised by the gesture.

The pair laughs so much that Safi doesn’t get to

put the ring on.

He places it back into the rack and the sales lady

puts it back in the case.

299
 “You made a good choice, my china. And
congratulations,” LBD shakes his hand.

“Thank you. But I have to get engaged first.”

“This is a moment to celebrate. Not every man

gets here. And not every man meets their match as
quickly as you did,” LBD says.

“I wish I had an idea of how I’m going to make it

special for her.”

“No ideas yet?” LBD asks.

Safi shakes his head.

“You’ve assisted a few customers to stage their

own grand proposals at the lodge. None of them stuck
out for you?”

“I think I’m too focused on what I’m gonna say

to her, and choosing the right ring,” he taps the glass
case.

“The ring is taken care of. Let me handle the set

up for you. It will be a surprise for both of you. When do
you want to do this?”

“I was thinking maybe after church. We’ll be

dressed up already so she won’t be suspicious, like she
would be if I asked her to get dressed up,” Safi explains.

“Sounds good. This Sunday then?”

“No, no. Too soon. First of all, that gives us only

three days to have the ring ready, and it may not be.
300
Secondly, I still haven’t figured out the proposal yet.
Rather next weekend.”

They shake hands.

*****

The week flies by so quickly and Safi is glad it’s the

weekend again so he can get it over and done with
instead of being tense all the time. The ring is burning a
hole in his pocket because he can’t stand to put it away.

“You are going to lose that ring. Let me put it in

the safe for you,” LBD says.

“Are you sure? Promise me you won’t forget it

on Sunday.”

“I won’t. And you need to relax, otherwise

you’re going to give yourself away. Now go home. It’s
Friday night.”

“You’re right.”

He gives LBD the ring and starts walking out of

the door.

“Before you leave, swing by the bar and ask

Thato for a tot to take the edge off.”

He rolls his eyes without turning around and

keeps walking.

*****

It’s Sunday after church. The loved-up couple park the

lodge car in front of the main door. This is the only time
LBD has let them take the car to church to make sure
301
they make it back in time for the proposal lunch he has
set up.

“This is the life. I hope LBD lets us use the car

every week. It beats using public transport by far,”
Thandi says before they get out of the car.

“I’m just grateful we got it today, whether we

get it again or not in the future is another thing,” he
doesn’t want to get her hopes up.

He walks around to the driver’s side to open the

door for her.

They go into the main building and LBD

immediately comes out of his open office.

“How was church?” he asks them

“It was good, thank you,” Thandi responds.

“You’ll have to tell me about it another time.

Safi, I need a minute of your time upstairs. Don’t worry
Thandi, I won’t steal your Sunday. I just need a minute.”

She nods.

The two men walk up the stairs on the right side

of the lobby.

“Is everything set up?” Safi whispers to LBD.

“Yes, I just wanted to get you upstairs alone to

prep you. After the proposal, call reception for your
lunch, I have a special bottle of champagne waiting for
you in the room.”

“Okay, I’m freaking out a little,” Safi confesses.

302
 “It’s now or never. Don’t let your nerves spoil
this for you. I’m going to put you in position then leave
the room to call her up.”

LBD unlocks room VII and opens the black door

slowly.

The room is carpeted with white rose petals

from the door. Safi’s jaw drops when he sees the white
fluffy petals. The smell of the flowers rushes out of the
room to them.

“I can’t go in. You need to be careful walking to

where you need to stand so the petals are not damaged,”
LBD explains.

“Wow, I’m lost for words,” is all Safi says.

“Go inside and stand in the circle. The ring box is

inside the circle. I’ll go down to call Thandi up. You
ready?”

Safi’s eyes are as wide as saucers. His lower lip

quivers.

“I’m so nervous!”

“You’ll be fine. Good luck. Remember, close the

door slowly and walk carefully, we don’t want Thandi
walking in on a mess,” LBD says before making his way
down the corridor and down the stairs.

A few minutes pass and then Thandi knocks at

room VII.

“Come in,” Safi shouts.

303
 He shuffles in his position trying to decide
whether to stand, or kneel, or whatever.

She opens the door and the white petals fly

everywhere like reverse snow. She stands just inside the
room while the petals land softly back on the floor. She
looks up along the spread of petals until she lands on the
wide area with the words ‘WILL YOU MARRY ME’ written
in red petals over the white ones.

A circle of red petals is above the words and a

nervous Safi is kneeling inside of it, with the ring in one
hand and his right hand over his bent right knee.

Thandi starts to cry even before Safi says a word,

and he stands and stretches his right hand to invite her
over into the circle.

She throws down her handbag and goes to join

Safi.

A minute passes while they hug and cry. Safi

gently pulls away and gets back to the kneeling position.

He holds her left hand and slips on the ring.

“Thandi Khumalo, you are the best thing about

my life. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will
you marry me?” he whispers to her while fighting back
more tears.

She nods in a very animated way because she

doesn’t want Safi to mistake the hand she’s holding over
her mouth to contain her sobs as a negative response.

“Is that a yes?” he asks.

304
 She takes the hand off her mouth.

“Yes,” she says through the tears.

Safi gets back up and Thandi clings to his neck.

She continues crying and Safi does nothing but

hold her for a while.

*****

Safi receives a cold reaction from Asani when he breaks

the news about the engagement.

They look very different from each other now

despite their matching faces and height. Safi has kept his
hair short while Asani opted for dreadlocks. They are
under the big tree Asani likes to sit under every time he
visits.

Asani looks like he’s had much better days. He

looks worn out.

“Congratulations,” Asani is almost sarcastic.

“You could pretend to be a little happy for us,”

Safi calls him on it.

“I am. You’re growing up, and a lot faster than

me. It’s just a little unexpected. Plus, I’ve met Thandi only
a handful of times for a few minutes, so I don’t really
know her.”

“You don’t need to know her. I do. We love each

other and we’re happy.”

“Okay. Listen, I do want the best for you, and if

that’s Thandi, I’m happy for you both,” he says.
305
 “Thank you,” Safi says.

They hug and take a seat on the bench.

“So, when am I going to see where you live?”

Safi asks Asani.

“Yeah, right!”

“What does that mean?” Safi asks.

“Why the sudden interest in where I live? You’ve

never asked to before.”

“It’s not sudden. I’ve always wanted to know but

I was waiting for the invite, which I’m obviously not
getting, so I thought I would bring it up.”

“Safi, you don’t have to gloat. You’ve done

everything right and all the good things have landed on
your lap and I’m the exact opposite. You look down on
me just because I’m still trying to figure things out!” Asani
bursts.

He stands up and storms off.

Safi has no idea what just happened.

He stares at Asani as he walks to the gate to

leave the lodge.

*****

“What is the process of getting married in Tanzania like?

Do you pay lobola?” Thandi asks Safi.

“Lobola?” Safi stops walking. They stand under

the big tree, Safi’s confusion interrupting their stroll.

306
 “You know, the dowry,” she assumed he knows
what lobola is. She assumed all African practice the
custom.

“We pay dowry too, but I’m not really sure how
the whole process works. I’ve never really been exposed
to that,” Safi tells her.

She reaches for his hand.

“Well, you don’t really have to know. We just

need to think of two or three people that can represent
you to meet my family to negotiate the lobola. It’s
important to me for this to go smoothly because you
haven’t interacted with my family. I need their stamp of
approval. And I know it’s important for my mother to
know that you can support a family. That’s why we are
doing this,” she says.

“No pressure! Now I’m nervous. I’ve been

worried about how they may receive me,’ he says.

“Hey,” she gently takes his face to focus on her.

“Your albinism is not an issue. I did talk to my

mother about it so it’s not a surprise. Besides, she
brought us up to see the inner man. Stop worrying,
everything will be okay,” she reassures him.

“It is a worry of mine. Probably because I haven’t

met your family yet,” he says.

“Do you want to make a trip home before we

proceed?” she asks.

He thinks about it.

307
 “That may prolong the process. If you say it will
be okay, that’s enough for me,” he says.

She squeezes his hand and smiles.

*****

Safi wastes no time moving things along to get the lobola

proceedings going. He is nervous because all he knows of
Thandi’s family is what she has told him. She has been
careful not to introduce everyone she dates to them, that
way they will place no expectations on her, nor will she
come off as a busybody to them when things don’t work
out with different boyfriends.

But Safi is a keeper, so he will inevitably meet

them.

But the timing means he will only meet them

when he asks them for their blessing to marry their
daughter.

“So, who do you think will be your delegation to

my mother’s house for the negotiations,” Thandi asks
Safi.

He’s fixing her a cup of tea after work. Her

aching feet are rested on his couch as she watches him in
the kitchen.

“I don’t know yet. Are two or three people

enough?”

“Yes, that’s fine.”

“Tell me how it works again?”

308
 “The first thing is the letter you have to send to
my family asking for a date for the first meeting. You
don’t need to know how it works as much as you need to
be ready with the ‘cows’ my uncles expect you to pay. I
was thinking the pastor will be the best person to worry
about the how. He’s probably been in a few delegations.
What do you think?”

He thinks about it.

“I like that. I was thinking to ask Omary to come

down as well. He’s the closest thing to a father I’ve ever
known. The two of them will get on like a house on fire.
And I want him to meet you,” Safi’s starting to get
excited about the idea.

He brings her the tea and puts it on the coffee

table in front of her. He picks up her feet, sits down and
places them on his lap. He rubs them gently.

“And I had another idea,” he hesitates.

“What?”

“Well, the other person very deserving of a seat

at the table is… drumroll please,” he says to her.

She taps her hands on her bent knees to humour

him.

He makes a bullhorn with his cupped hands over

his mouth.

“L.B.D!” he exaggerates the base in his voice and

speaks slowly as if he’s a sports announcer.

309
 Thandi bursts out laughing. She can’t stop
herself.

“What?”

She’s still laughing.

“What?”

“You want that man to negotiate on your behalf?

I know you two have a bromance of sorts, but what does
he know about lobola negotiations?” she asks him.

She picks up her cup of tea.

“Like you said, only the pastor needs to know.

He can be the lead negotiator, Omary his second-in-
command. LBD can observe, and maybe hold the money
or something,” he points out.

She considers it as she sips her tea.

“That’s actually not a bad idea. But know this:

my uncles are no pushovers.”

*****

“You look nervous,” LBD says. He can sense Safi

can’t wait to begin his reunion with the visitor.

Safi’s almost ready to jump out of his skin in anticipation

of Omary’s arrival. A lot has happened since they last saw
each other. His life resembles nothing of the past he
escaped from, in large part thanks to Omary.

“Omary is very important to me. He is basically

the only father I’ve ever known. And if it were not for
him, Asani and I would probably be dead. I can never
310
repay that man for everything he’s done for my family,”
Safi almost chokes up.

“I can’t wait to meet him. If you speak so highly

of him, he must be a great man,” LBD says.

“He is, and the two of you would get along

great,” Safi says.

“Let me arrange dinner for tonight so we can

welcome him, and so he and I can get to know each other
before Saturday’s trip? The two of you will have plenty of
time to bond after dinner and tomorrow,” LBD asks Safi.

“That sounds great, thank you,” Safi feels better.

His nerves mellow a little at the thought of a relaxed
dinner with the two men he’s closest to.

His only regret is that his brother will not be a

part of it.

*****

“Mjomba, it’s so great to see you,” Safi approaches as

the car stops in front of the lodge. Omary is barely out of
the car when Safi walks towards him.

“I can’t believe I’m here. And for a great

occasion like this one,” Omary responds. The two men
almost crash into each other. They hug tightly to make up
for lost time.

Omary looks good. He’s aging well and is in good

spirits.

He pulls back and holds Safi’s shoulders to get a

good look at him.

311
 “You look great. And you’re getting married. I
thought I had a few more years before I would see this
day,” Omary says.

He taps Safi lightly on the cheek.

They laugh.

“You must be tired after the long trip? I hope it

was comfortable?” Safi asks Omary.

The driver is taking Omary’s luggage out of the

car and into the lobby.

“It was good, thank you. I do want to rest a little

before we catch up,” he responds.

“Come inside. I have a room ready for you. Take

all the time you need. We’ll have dinner with my boss
later. I can’t wait for you two to meet,” Safi says.

“You’ve said a lot about this boss of yours. I can’t

wait to meet him,” Omary says.

They walk into the lodge with arms around each

other’s shoulders.

*****

“So this is the great Omary. This man cannot stop singing
your praises. I was starting to think he’s created an
imaginary hero in his mind,” LBD says.

He has been waiting for Safi and Omary to arrive

for dinner. He stands up as soon as he sees them
approach the table. Omary is more formal than he should
be in his black pants and jacket and white shirt. He’s
312
certainly more formal than LBD, who’s wearing his work
clothes still.

“Mr Dumond,” Omary says, smiling. He widens

his arms to give LBD a hug.

“I could say the same thing about you,” Omary

says as the two men hug.

LBD is the first to let go.

“You’ve been a blessing to my boy. I can’t tell

you how much I appreciate that,” Omary continues.

“Safi is a good man. All he needed was a

chance,” LBD says.

“I can attest to that,” Omary says.

Safi looks on from the side until LBD remembers

they are not alone.

“I’m sure you’re hungry after that long trip. Let’s

sit and have dinner.” LBD says, pulling out his chair.

Safi and Omary do likewise.

“Have you met Thandi yet?” LBD asks Omary.

“Not yet. We’re meeting her after dinner. She’s

getting ready for her trip home tomorrow morning,” Safi
answers for Omary. He seems nervous. The weekend’s
event has to go as smoothly as possible.

“She’s a fine young lady. Safi chose well,” LBD

assures Omary.

313
 “I’ve heard only good things about her. I’m sure
she’s a great woman if Safi is so quick to marry her,”
Omary jokes.

Safi doesn’t know what to say.

“Don’t be so nervous. Everything will go well

with your new in-laws this weekend,” Omary says smiling.

Safi trusts Omary’s word.

“Is your pastor ready for the trip?” LBD asks Safi.

“He is. He’ll sleep over tomorrow night so we

can leave early on Saturday morning. I thought it would
be better to have everyone in one place rather than wait
for him to arrive on Saturday morning. My nerves can’t
take that,’ Safi says.

“Yes, I’m sure. Looks like your nerves are already

starting to unravel,” LBD jokes before sipping his water.

Omary likes his sense of humour.

*****

“How’s Asani? I expected to see him here tonight,”

Omary asks Safi as they walk out of the restaurant after
dinner.

LBD walks out ahead of them.

“Asani is a mystery to me these days. He’s having

a tough time settling in. He drinks and parties like he’s
making up for lost time. I don’t know if I should worry
about him, or be angry with him,” Safi responds.

314
 “You two have been through a lot. It’s not
surprising that he would respond the way he is,” Omary
says.

“He’s not doing himself any favours by being

self-destructive,” Safi says.

“Give him a little time. He will come around. I

was hoping to give Bibi a good report on both of you, but
…,” Omary shrugs his shoulders.

“I really wish she was around for all of this,” Safi

says.

“She is. I’m her proxy,” Omary smiles.

“She’s very proud of you. Hopefully you can take

Thandi to meet her soon,” Omary says.

“Definitely. Listen, I cannot thank you enough

for being here with me,” Safi says.

“I’m honoured,” Omary says.

*****

The day is here and Safi gets into the car with his
representatives. LBD feels honoured to be included and
offers to drive them to Thandi’s mother’s house in
Polokwane.

Thandi is already in Polokwane to prepare for

their arrival.

Their appointment is at 9am, so they leave the

lodge very early to make sure they have plenty of time to
spare. Offending their hosts is the last thing they want to
315
do, otherwise they risk being fined at best, or the whole
event falling apart at worst.

Safi sits with Omary in the back of LBD’s private

Toyota 4x4. Safi’s pastor is in the passenger seat. The
pastor’s title earns him the name ‘Moruti’, which is what
his congregation calls him, and so does the delegation.

The trip gives the men time to get their story

right. The envelope full of cash is safely hidden in LBD’s
jacket inside pocket. He’s taking his duty very seriously.

Thandi’s aunt meets Omary, LBD and Moruti at the closed

gate when they arrive.

All three men are in dress jackets to show

respect.

“You’re lucky you’re early, otherwise I would

have to fine you,” the aunt says to the three men.

Moruti laughs, LBD is lost but keeps his mouth

shut.

She opens the small gate. It’s one of those old

metal gates with twisted panels at the bottom and a
spiral pattern at the top. They have freshly painted it
silver, to match the wire fence around the big yard. The
house is small and looks like it’s floating on the barren
hard soil around it. It looks like all the other government-
built houses in the neighbourhood, just pink in colour.
The solar panels atop all the roofs make the
neighbourhood look like a futuristic town.

316
 Safi stays in the car while the men enter the
house. He’s not allowed to represent himself in the
negotiations.

Thandi’s three uncles are in the living room when

the visitors enter.

The greetings and introductions take a minute or

two before the Khumalo family’s chief negotiator invites
everyone to sit down.

The room is small and a little dark. The two

windows are not nearly big enough to brighten the room.
The heavy dark blue curtain doesn’t help.

The dark blue floral velvet couch set is so snug

around the coffee table in the middle that there is barely
room to shuffle around the table to reach the seats.

The uncles have left the three-seater open for

the visitors. Two of the uncles occupy the two-seater
across the visitors, while the chief negotiator is in the
single-seater. Moruti sits in the middle and shifts forward
as the chief negotiator.

“We would like to welcome you gentlemen to

the Khumalo household. We are happy about the reasons
that we get to meet you. It’s always a good thing when
positive things bring people together,” the Khumalo
chief negotiator opens the meeting. His heavy brown
tweed winter jacket is way too much for the already hot
morning. But he’s determined to be respectable for the
occasion.

“Thank you, sir,” Moruti starts with his response.

317
 “We appreciate that the Khumalos have
welcomed us so warmly into your home. We hope we all
hear each other and come to an understanding at the end
of the day,” says Moruti.

“Thank you, gentlemen. Eh … to begin the

proceedings, we will need ivula’mlomu. Please make your
offer and place it on the table,” says the Khumalo chief
negotiator.

Moruti turns to LBD and whispers to him to give

him R300 from the money Safi gave them.

LBD’s expression gives away his confusion, but

he reaches into the inside pocket and peeks in to make
sure he comes out with just that amount. He pulls out the
R300 and hands it to Moruti.

Moruti straightens the notes and lays them on

the table in front of them, ironing them flat with his
hands.

“This is our offer. Please accept this vula’mlomu.

And to make it go down better, we have something to
wet your throats,” he says.

He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket

and pulls out a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label
whisky. The two men he’s sandwiched between
exchange surprised looks behind him.

He puts the bottle on the table on top of the

R300.

All three uncles nod their heads in approval.

318
 “Good job, gentlemen. We can now begin
talking. Let me take this off the table to make room for
the kraal,” says the Khumalo chief negotiator. He hands
the money and the bottle to the uncle closest to him.

The visitors are relieved.

He takes the small straw placemat in front of him

on the table. He unrolls it and lays it in the middle of the
table.

“Right, gentlemen, this mat represents the kraal.

This is where the ‘cows’ you bring to us will be placed and
kept safe,” says the Khumalo chief negotiator.

Thandi is sitting in the small bedroom so none of the

delegates see her. She’s dressed in her colourful
traditional Zulu attire. She is with two of her cousins,
wearing the same attire, just in different colours. The
three maidens are waiting for word for them to come out
so the delegation can identify the woman for whom
they’ve just negotiated lobola, in case the uncles try to
slip them the wrong girl.

Thandi’s two sisters and the other women in the

family are preparing lunch. The commotion in the kitchen
keeps the tensions low. For all they know, the men aren’t
agreeing on anything behind the closed living room door.
The only outcome they want is to get word that a round
of traditional beer is in order to help them celebrate a
good outcome.

319
“Ladies, the uncles are ready for you now. It seems the
negotiations are going well,” one of Thandi’s aunts tells
them. She comes into the bedroom to get the three
young women for their parade in front of the delegation.

They get up from the bed and cover their heads

with scarves to make it a little harder to identify Thandi.
They follow the aunt out to the living room. They stand at
the door with their heads slightly bowed.

Moruti is the first to stand up to get a close look.

Then LBD follows suit. He takes the opportunity to
stretch his legs because he’s been squashed in the corner
for over two hours. Omary joins them, despite not being
familiar with Thandi after just one meeting.

All the uncles stand up.

“Gentlemen, please identify the flower you have

picked from this beautiful bouquet,” the uncle who
accepted the vula’mlomu says.

“She’s the one in the middle,” LBD points her

out excitedly.

“How do you know this? No other man should be

that familiar with any maiden from the Khumalo family
without first going through her uncles,” the third and
very quiet uncle says.

LBD is stumped.

“Her suitor gave us a description and she fits it

the closest,” Moruti saves him.

“Yes,” LBD confirms.

320
 Thandi takes her scarf off her head and gives
them a shy smile.

“Very well, you can’t say we robbed you in any

way gentlemen. Girls, please get us something to drink.
It’s been a very long and hard morning, but a successful
one,” the chief negotiator says.

The men shake hands while Thandi and her

cousins leave to get the traditional beer.

The chief negotiator rolls the grass mat off the table. He
folds in the many R1000 stacks of the first instalment of
the lobola with the mat. He will present it to Thandi’s
mother once the delegation has left.

The home brew takes no time to get to LBD’s

head. His turn doesn’t come around fast enough. As soon
as he gets the calabash in his hands, he guzzles more
than all the other men to hold him until it comes around
again.

Soon, he’s laughing the loudest and his words

are slurred, much to Moruti and Omary’s amusement.

“Gentlemen, I think we better feed the fan of

the froth before he’s unable to walk,” the second uncle
says before he disappears behind the door to the kitchen.

*****

It’s been a few months since the lobola negotiations. By

this time LBD and Moruti have made the trip back to
Polokwane to pay off the balance.

321
 Safi and Thandi have ticked most of the
traditional boxes to being husband and wife. Only the
traditional ceremony and the exchanging of the gifts
between the two families need to take place before the
marriage is official.

But they are in no rush to do everything because

they just want to enjoy this time and ease into the next
chapter of their life together. After all, both of them are
still young at 22.

Safi’s only regret is that Bibi can’t be there with

him. Her old age makes travelling difficult.

*****

Autumn is a little cooler than usual this year, but Safi’s

habit of dangling his feet in the pool stays, except this
season he dips his feet in the hot tub at the other end of
the pool.

He pulls the chair from the side to sit in before

his feet go into the elevated tub. That way he can relax
and possibly doze off like he enjoys doing.

The sun is setting a little earlier – it’s almost dark

now, but he keeps the light off so no one disturbs him.

“Are you ever going to get into the water or

learn how to swim? Your poor feet do all the work to
warm up your whole body.”

He chuckles without opening his eyes.

“Leave me alone. This works for me and my poor

feet.”

322
 Thandi walks around the left side of the pool to
him.

“If I join you will you get in the water with me?”

This gets his attention and he opens his right

eye.

She doesn’t wait for an answer.

She pulls out her tucked-in white blouse and

starts unbuttoning it from the top down.

Both eyes are wide open now.

“Does your uncle know you’re trying to seduce

me?”

They both laugh. But she proceeds to unzip the

back of her black pencil skirt while stepping out of the
black low heels she has on.

“Thandi, not now and definitely not here,” he

whispers nervously.

The smirk on her face tells him he’s wasting his

time trying to dissuade her.

“What if someone walks in?”

“I locked the door.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Her black lace bra and underwear come off.

He doesn’t know where to look, so he focuses

on her face.

323
 “How do you know I didn’t lock the door?”

“I would have heard it.”

“But you didn’t.”

She steps into the tub and sits on the side.

“I suggest you get in. I will sit here all night if I

have to.”

He hesitates, looking up at the door to ease his

mind.

He gets up from the chair and stands on the side

with his wet feet. He takes off his shirt, then the rolled-up
jeans, but keeps his black boxer-briefs on.

He takes a few seconds slightly hopping on one

spot while he decides whether to put his clothes back on
and leave or get in the water.

Getting out of the cold air and a naked Thandi

motivate him to choose the latter.

He gets in quickly, as if hoping that Thandi won’t

see him until he’s submerged in water.

“That wasn’t so difficult?”

“To you!”

She shifts from her spot to kneel in front of him.

“Oh, you big baby.”

“Are you sure about this.”

“It’s gonna happen eventually. Why not now?”

324
 His heart is almost audible because of nerves and
excitement.

His hands emerge from the water and he runs

them up her arms, over her shoulders and wraps them
gently around her neck.

His thumbs prop up her chin so she looks him

directly in the eye.

She wraps her arms around his body as he pulls

her closer to kiss her. Once he starts, he does not stop,
and any doubt he had is gone.

This is the closest he’s ever been with Thandi.

*****

The walk from the pool to Safi’s room is risky. He

manages to pull his pants on and she only wears her
blouse before they gather their clothes and get out of the
indoor pool area.

They run out into the little courtyard, trying to

not giggle loud enough to disturb other staff members.
Safi’s key is still safely in his pocket.

Once inside the house, they throw the clothes in

a pile and Safi pulls Thandi towards him for another
lingering kiss.

He manoeuvres them both towards the double

bed in such a way that they look like they are dancing.

He lowers himself onto the bed and pulls her

over his body, then swings her over to rest on his left
side. He stays glued to her lips.

325
 …

Time stands still and the two bask in the moment, her
head on his chest.

“You know I love you, right,” Safi says to Thandi.

“I do know you love me, but I’ll never get tired of

hearing it,” she says.

“I don’t want you to think I took advantage of

you tonight. I know we’re not legally married yet, but…”

She lifts her head from his chest.

“Who took advantage of whom?” she interrupts

him.

He smiles.

“Point taken,” he says.

She puts her head back on his chest.

“Are you hungry?” he asks her.

She shakes her head

“Are you?” she asks.

“A little, I’ll fix us something later.”

She giggles.

“What?”

“You are ridiculous. You let me be totally naked

alone until the very last second? What if someone walked
in on us? I would have looked like a bad girl,” Thandi says.
326
 “You ARE bad.” They chuckle. He looks down at
her as she lies on his left arm, her index finger doodling
on his bare chest. His left hand makes soft finger waves
along the back of her blouse.

“You know you’re glad I’m a little bad,” she says.

“I am a little glad.”

They laugh.

327
 Trouble is my middle name

Much of the boys’ days were spent indoors in Mwanza.

The noises from the children in the village playing outside
during the day stung more for the twins than any other
time spent confined at home by the sun, Bibi or the
hunters.

But none of that matters anymore. Nothing is

keeping them hidden or protected from the outside
world anymore.

Of the two brothers, Asani is certain to make the

most of his freedom.

Freedom seems to give him a high that goes

straight over level-headed Safi’s head. To Safi, the
freedom makes him appreciative of where they are now
and that they survived the most challenging of
circumstances.

328
 Asani, however, sees how stifled and oppressed
he was in the past, and how much he wants to make the
most of his freedom now.

He gets very little sleep, maybe to escape the

dreadful dreams that intrude. He stays out late, looking
for fun distractions to occupy his time.

He can always trust his party buddy, Sfiso, to

deliver the good times and it has become a ritual for the
pair to go around town and beyond in search of good
entertainment.

The two are about the same height. Sfiso is

slimmer than the lean Asani. His usual style is a checkered
long-sleeved shirt and jeans that sit way too low on his
behind. His black belt stops them from sliding even
lower. He loves his black leather over-worn Carvela
loafers, which he has on tonight.

“Where’s the fun skorokoro taking us tonight?”

Asani has coined a phrase to signal his readiness to get
the party started. Sfiso has just knocked on his
neighbour’s door for their Saturday night jaunt.

The car is a beat up old red Opel Kadette that

may have been a looker in its newer days in the 90s. The
colour is no longer red due to the elements, and the grey
fabric seats are so worn out and dirty that no-one other
than Sfiso would want to be seen driving it.

Asani doesn’t seem to mind either.

The white sheepskin on the dash board is the

newest adornment Sfiso came up with, after the novelty
of having the bobble-head menagerie of six dogs on the
329
windshield wore off. Now the menagerie stares out of
the window sitting on a fluffy white cloud.

The car is parked right in front of their doors in

the backyard.

“Tonight is a surprise, my friend. Besides, you

don’t know the town so it wouldn’t help if I told you,”
quips Sfiso.

He seems like he’s already had one or two cans

of his beloved Castle Lager to start his evening.

“I might not want to go if it’s such a secret,” says

Asani.

“It’s not a secret. It’s a surprise. There’s a

difference, my man,” Sfiso says.

“Besides, we both know you would never pass

up the chance to party,” laughs Sfiso.

Asani leaves his room and locks the door.

They hop into the car, even though Asani lost his
bid to get Sfiso to tell him the plan for the night.

The pair drives out of town and Asani throws an

eye in Sfiso’s direction every now and then when he hits a
questionable note singing Brenda Fassie’s Weekend
Special.

With the gaping rectangular hole where the car

stereo used to be, Asani has no choice but to listen to
Sfiso’s drunken and off-key singing, and do so silently
because he’s just a passenger in the fun skorokoro.

330
 It doesn’t occur to him not to have entered the
car with a drunken Sfiso, who keeps swigging beer.

After 45 minutes of the Brenda Fassie loop, the

two reach Louis Trichardt and head straight to ‘Walala
Wasala’ shebeen in the township.

The little light blue and white house at the end of

the street is flanked by cars. The house is bracketed by
high walls painted the same shade of blue. Two huge red
beer brand banners with the name of the shebeen are at
the end on the two corner walls the house doesn’t share
with either neighbour.

The music is audible from a few houses away.

They park down the street at the end of the long

line of cars along the side of the road, not caring if they
are blocking the neighbours’ gates and driveways.

“You know how crazy and violent we get when

we’re drunk, I don’t want my skorokoro to be shot at or
pissed on when weekend drunk things happen,” Sfiso
tells Asani.

“Hold this,” Sfiso takes out an unopened six-

pack of Castle Lager cans from behind his seat and hands
it to Asani.

“Are you trying to get us killed? You know we

can’t bring our own booze to a place like this,” Asani
attempts to be the voice of reason.

“Haai, they won’t even notice. We’ll take them

out of the packet as soon as we are seated and they
won’t see we brought them. I’m not buying their
331
expensive stuff when we have cheaper options,” Sfiso
says opening the door to get out of the car.

“Just relax and follow my lead,” he reassures his

friend, although his obvious drunkenness is no comfort to
Asani.

He walks around the car to Asani’s side and takes

his denim jacket off and throws it over the beers in
Asani’s left hand to hide them.

Asani is nervous but he can see this is nothing

new to Sfiso so he decides to go with the flow.

They leave the car and start walking to the

shebeen. The music gets louder and louder and Sfiso
already seems like he’s more than ready to party the
night away.

He starts dancing in the street and singing along:

‘Umlilo, we Big Nuz...’

He almost trips over his own feet but holds on to

Asani, who’s too scared to move his left hand in case the
six-pack falls to the ground.

The relatively short walk feels like they are

walking on hot coals for Asani because of his inebriated
companion and the hidden beers he could get into
trouble for. If he could he would turn around, but he feels
like he has to go all the way because of Sfiso. If he leaves
him here, he will land himself in trouble. Plus, he can’t
drive, so he has to rely on Sfiso for transport.

So, he keeps walking, despite feeling like he’s

being led to the gallows.

332
 At the entrance closest to them stands a big,
bald, muscular dark tower of a man in all black. His
bouncer T-shirt hugs every muscle so tightly that one can
isolate which muscles he uses per movement.

The ‘Walala Wasala’ logo is above his left nipple

in bold white print.

Sfiso has no care in the world, still dancing to the

song. He goes in past the man tower and starts to whistle
as if announcing his arrival.

Three other drunken men rise from their white

plastic chairs and join him to whistle along to the song.

Asani freezes in front of the bouncer, both of

them looking on at the whistling fest happening on the
front lawn of the shebeen.

I thought we were going to be low key.

He steps forward and follows Sfiso, still trying

not to let the jacket drop.

Sfiso steps back and misses a step. He loses his

balance. On his way down, he throws his arms up above
his head and knocks Asani’s hand with the jacket and
beers.

Everything happens so quickly that Asani has no

chance to save them or duck out of the way. Instead, he
freezes.

The jacket flies off his arm and lands on the

ground and the beers fall to the ground. The cardboard
pack they are in splits open and cans roll around on the
ground.
333
 Sfiso is flat on his back on the floor, laughing like
a crazy person, oblivious to how much trouble they are
in.

Asani’s knees are bent and he’s leaning a little to

the front, wishing he could have caught the beers. Not so
much Sfiso, only the beers.

He looks back and sees the bouncer’s eyes

locked in on him.

The bouncer takes massive steps to the scene

and grabs Asani by the back of his shirt, lifting him off the
ground. Asani knows there is no good ending to this, so
he doesn’t put up a fight.

The bouncer takes him into the shebeen,

through to one of the back rooms. The owner of the
establishment sees her bouncer taking Asani to the back
and knows something is going on.

She gets out from behind the bar and follows

him, flagging another one of the big bouncers standing at
the second entrance to come with her.

The free-flowing fabric of her long red Dashiki

dress flaps like a massive cape as she walks. Heavy silver
bangles on both wrists make her look like a warrior. The
black eye pencil brows drawn on too high and thin
exaggerate the aggression on her face.

The first bouncer throws Asani into the room,

comes out then closes the door. The door is not locked,
but Asani doesn’t dare try to escape.

The owner and the second bouncer are in the

hallway waiting to hear what’s going on.
334
 “Sis Rebs, he and his friend came in with stashed
beer. His friend is drunk on the ground outside. He’s out
of it so it’s pointless doing anything to him,” the first
bouncer fills them in.

“I don’t have time for this. You know what do to

do. Sproget, go to Bafana’s post so no other fool tries to
smuggle shit into my house. Bafana, make him wish he
had stayed home tonight, I have no patience for shit like
this,” Sis Rebecca resolves what seems like a minor
irritation to her.

“Sure, boss,” Sproget says and walks off.

“Bafana, handle him,” she points to the closed

door.

Bafana nods and gets back into the room.

*****

The morning rays hurt Asani’s eyes when he wakes up.

The room he is in has nothing covering the big window.
Only white burglar bars are in place.

He’s on the ground, his face on the cold light

grey tile.

He lifts his head and is struggling to see. He tries

to take a good look around, but his head and neck hurt
like hell.

Both his eyes are heavy and sore. He struggles to

open them. The little slits he manages to open see a small
puddle of blood where his face was.

335
 He takes a moment to gather his thoughts. Then
he remembers last night, and the massive fists from the
big bouncer that repeatedly kneaded his torso, then
knocked him unconscious, evidently all night.

I have to get out of here.

*****

He stumbles out of the house after struggling to make his

way out of the unfamiliar maze, with almost-shut eyes.

Two men are sleeping against the fence like they

were propped up there. They are likely drunks from last
night who didn’t, or couldn’t, make it home, so the
bouncers ‘cleaned’ them up along with the stacked up
plastic chairs and other evidence of the night before.

His only goal right now is getting out of there,

even though he has no idea where he’s going, or how.

Once he gets into the street, he turns to the

right and goes in the direction Sfiso’s car was parked in.
He doesn’t expect to find him there, but the further away
he gets from ‘Walala Wasala’, the better.

He gets to the spot the car was parked at, and lo

and behold, the car is still there. Reclined in the
passenger seat is Sfiso, still out of it from last night. Asani
knocks on the window to wake him.

336
 Safi’s blind spot

“Did you call your brother?” Thandi peeks into the office
to ask Safi.

The plan is to have leisurely dinner as a family.

Asani would then spend the night at the lodge as a gift
from Thandi and Safi.

“Yes, I did. He said he’d be here. We’ll see.”

“Don’t be negative. Just be open and welcoming

when he arrives.”

“I’m not being negative. Every time we make

plans he either cancels last minute or just doesn’t show
up.”

“That’s why we are doing it here. If he doesn’t

show up, the two of us can still have dinner at home.”

337
 The couple moved out of their small rooms and
share a bigger house for couples living on the premises.

“Fine, I’ll play nice. In fact, I’m really looking

forward to just talking with Asani. I miss him.”

“I’m glad. I’m going to wrap up before knocking

off. You go ahead of me and take a shower because you
know how long you take. I’ll be home soon,” Thandi says.

“Sure, boss,” he says with a smile.

“You know it!” she says it with sass before

walking out of the office.

*****

Safi decides to turn a blind eye to his issues with Asani.

Despite the current distance between them, he feels the
pain created by the separation.

The careless life and lack of direction is

something Safi hates about Asani. It is clear to him that’s
how Asani has chosen to live his life. He’s prepared to
overlook his faults to have a relationship with him.

Asani keeps his distance because he feels judged

by his brother, and he resents Safi for replacing him with
Thandi. He knows she doesn’t owe him anything, so his
displeasure is directed at someone whose loyalty he
expects for a lifetime: his brother.

Safi is blind to his brother’s resentment. He

knows they have drifted apart, but he always thought it
originated from their confrontation when they first
arrived in South Africa.

338
 It worries Safi more and more that the picture
Bibi would see of them is that of nothing but tension.
He’s embarrassed by it.

He wants to make things right between them

again.

Thandi encourages him to get their relationship

back on track. As much as Asani never made her feel bad
or that she was taking his place in Safi’s life, she placed
the blame on herself. And she places the responsibility on
herself too to make sure that a bridge is built between
them.

But Safi hesitates because it occurs to him that

they may fall back into the pattern of co-dependence
they shared, and which they both hated for different
reasons.

Safi hated it because the responsibility always

fell on him, while Asani’s hate for it was based on his ego.
He knows he depends so much on his twin that he puts
him on a pedestal – a pedestal he covets but can never
occupy. He’s not prepared to rise up to it.

Safi wants to be with his brother again, despite

the dangers.

*****

Thandi and Safi are seated and waiting for Asani to show
up. Neither one wants to talk in case the wrong words
come out.

The dining room is half full and busy.

339
 Thandi knows Safi will be crushed if Asani
doesn’t show up again.

Half an hour passes.

Asani comes into the dining room. His sunglasses

are hiding his red and drunk eyes, but his slow and
zigzaggy walk gives him away. Safi and Thandi watch him
as he staggers to the table.

“Be nice and pretend you don’t see that he’s

drunk,” Thandi says to Safi.

He looks at her like she’s the drunken one.

“You want me to have a conversation with him

like anything that comes out of his mouth makes sense?”
he asks her.

“Yes,” she says.

Asani reaches the table.

“Happy dinner time, love birds,” he says loudly,

extending his arms outwards.

“Hi, Asani,” Thandi says.

Safi looks at her. She looks horrified.

“This is not going to work,” he whispers to her.

“I’m taking him to the room so we both don’t

lose our jobs,” he says.

He stands up and holds Asani’s left arm and

ushers him out of the dining room.

340
 “Can I at least get a ‘hello’?” Asani says to Safi.

“Hi, Asani. I think we can have dinner privately in

your room upstairs,” Safi says to try to calm Asani down.

“Yeah, I like that,” he says to Safi.

Safi turns him around and hurries him out of the

room before he gets more attention than the eyes that
are already on them.

*****

“Is he sleeping,” Thandi asks Safi.

He has just arrived home from putting Asani to

bed. He waited a little while to make sure he stays asleep.

“Yes,” he sighs.

He sprawls himself on the bed over his side. His

head lands in Thandi’s lap.

She puts the book she is reading face down on

the side table and plays with his hair, pulling and letting
go of the short tight springy curls.

“Are you okay,” she asks him.

“I’ll be okay. This could have turned out much

worse than it did.”

“But you didn’t get to have the dinner and talk

you were hoping for?”

“I know. Right now I just want to go to bed and

see if we can try breakfast tomorrow when he gets up,”
he says.

341
 “You must be hungry. I brought you food from
the dining room.”

“I think I’m more tired than I am hungry,” he

says.

She smiles.

“Okay, I’ll stop talking now so you can sleep.”

He shifts to lay his head on his pillow and kicks

his shoes off his feet.

“Thank you.”

*****

Asani wakes up early and leaves the hotel without saying

goodbye.

Safi is disappointed but decides to leave it to him to make

the next move since his own effort proved fruitless.

342
 My brother’s keeper

The seasons are changing. The cool days are slowly

becoming colder and shorter, while the nights last a little
longer.

Safi’s day starts much like any other day: routine

light breakfast before leaving home. He always makes
room for the heartier meal the lodge offers staff around
10 o’clock every morning.

He and Thandi take the short walk to work for

the tasks of the day: Safi’s early morning game drive for
guests sees him and the guide out before 6am, waiting
for their sleepy guests to arrive at the vehicle parked in
front of the main entrance. Safi is in the seat next to the
driver. He’s on hand to assist his colleague to answer the
guests’ questions.

Out of the big wooden front door come an older

gentleman and his much younger blonde wife, and the
343
wife’s carbon copy friend. They are a weird combination
of travel mates, if Safi had ever seen any. If they were
Africans, he would have concluded that the probably
moneyed man has brought his two young wives on
holiday.

The three are from Russia.

Both women have their big designer handbags

swinging from their thin forearms. The bags are bulgy
and seem to be carrying something heavy.

The wife’s friend has a pair of sunglasses in

place. The sun is nowhere in sight.

Besides, she won’t be able to see a thing through

those thick, black lenses.

The morning’s game drive is no different from

the others, perhaps even less exciting because fatigue
has set in for Safi after long months of work without a
decent break. The three guests are less than enthusiastic,
and seem to rather be interested in going back to their
warm beds than trying to fake excitement at this time of
the morning.

The two women sit together behind the older

man, who is sitting behind the driving guide. The friend
rests her head on the wife’s shoulder, sunglasses still
safely perched on the bridge of her sharp nose.

Aah, that’s what the shades are for – to hide an

incognito nap. Oh well, the drive is paid for so I’m not
bothered.

Everyone in that safari truck can’t wait to get

back to the lodge, including Safi and the guide. So when
344
he finally pulls up to the main building after the hour-long
drive, everyone shoots out of the car, only the older
gentleman thoughtfully managing to say: “Thank you for
the drive.”

*****

Safi and Thandi have been looking forward to some time

off for a few months now. Safi is taking more and more
from LBD’s load so work has been taking up their much
needed quality time together. But they are determined to
reconnect as a couple again, so the time away to one of
the lodge’s sister lodges near Hartbeespoort Dam for a
long weekend is a welcome break from the mundane.

It’s Thursday afternoon and the pair are leaving

for the weekend getaway soon, after both have knocked
off work.

Safi knocks off at 3pm. As he leaves the lodge,

Patience Mabena from the administration office calls him
back to the office for an urgent phone call.

*****

LBD is seated at his desk doing the last bit of admin

before the weekend when Safi comes in to answer the
phone.

“Hello,” Safi says with slight annoyance in his

voice. He has been anxious to leave for the weekend and
does not appreciate any delays brought on by
unexpected phone calls when he has one foot outside
the door.

“Mr Masalu?” says a man’s voice on the other

end.
345
 “Yes?”

“This is Constable Nkosinathi Zulu at the Louis

Trichardt police station,” says the voice.

“How can I assist you, sir?” Safi says, his

annoyance turning to curiosity.

“We have a man here by the name of Asani, he

says he’s your brother,” says the cop.

“What do you mean you have him there?” His

curiosity is now worry.

“I mean he has been here at the holding cell of

the station from late last night after he was picked up by
one of our patrol cars. He was apparently involved in
some drunken confrontation at the local shebeen. The
owner calls us when there’s a trouble maker trying to
start something.”

“What? What was he doing in Louis Trichardt?”

asks Safi.

“You will have to ask him that. He was pretty

drunk when our officers got there and he had no ID on
him. We only got him to talk now. He slept most of the
day.”

“Did you charge…,” Safi starts to ask, but the

voice on the other end interrupts him.

“We just held him in the cell so he can sober up

and stay out of trouble. We will be releasing him with a
warning. We just need you to come pick him up.”

“Today?” asks Safi.

346
 “Or tomorrow if you prefer. We have to release
him into someone’s custody,” says the constable.

“I will have to come now. Thank you, sir,” says

Safi after a slight pause.

“It’s a pleasure. Ask for Constable Zulu when you

get to the station,” he says.

“Will do, bye,” says Safi. He puts the phone

down.

“Everything okay?” LBD asks him.

“My brother is apparently in a holding cell at the

Louis Trichardt police station. Now I have to go get him
out before the weekend, otherwise he’ll have to sit there
until I get back,” Safi explains.

“What did he do?”

“I don’t know the details but he was drunk while

doing it.”

“You have a nice and necessary break to enjoy

with Thandi, don’t delay it for him. Leave him to marinade
in his dop through the weekend,” LBD says.

“I wish I could. As annoying as he is, he’s still my

brother.”

“Okay, fine. Get going then, I’ll tell Thandi about

the unexpected change to your plans. Just get back in
time to make your trip.”

“Thank you.”

347
 His walk out to the parking lot in front of the
lodge to the work vehicle and driver already waiting for
him is exaggerated, more out of irritation than urgency.

The plan was for the driver to take him and

Thandi for the weekend away and pick them up again on
Sunday.

He bangs the front passenger door shut to set

off on their spur-of-the-moment detour.

*****

The hour-long drive to Louis Trichardt feels a lot longer,

especially because this is the last thing Safi would have
opted to be doing after a full day working, ahead of a
weekend away for some R&R.

… 76 kilometres down, 14 more to go. And then it

will be same route back. Wonderful!

Safi reaches for his cellphone from his left shirt

pocket and speed-dials Thandi’s cell number.

“Hey, it’s me. I just wanted to let you know

we’re almost in Louis Trichardt. Hopefully everything runs
smoothly at the police station,” says Safi.

“I hope so too, otherwise we’ll have to leave

tomorrow morning if you get here late. Maybe we should
leave tomorrow morning anyway. You and the driver will
be tired when you get home. There’s no big rush, just be
safe on the road,” says Thandi.

“No, we’ve been planning this for a while, and I

need the rest. I’m not delaying it longer than necessary,”
responds Safi.
348
 “Hurry back, we can decide what to do when you
get here,” says Thandi.

“Okay, but be packed and ready, just in case. I

love you,” says Safi.

He feels slightly calmer while speaking to Thandi.

“I love you too, and be safe!” she says.

“Bye,” says Safi.

After hanging up, he remembers he’s annoyed

with his brother. Tension comes back to the expression
on his face and he squeezes the phone with his hand.

*****

The driver parks the car right in front of the police station
entrance. Not much is happening outside the building.

The street is conspicuously clean; perhaps they

arrived just after the street cleaners left. It’s almost the
end of the day so the town is winding down for the day.

The driver stays in the car while Safi goes in.

The double doors of the police station are

closed, with the faded IN/OUT sign hanging on the left
side of the door. Instinctively Safi pushes the right side
without thinking. The door doesn’t budge but squeaks as
if he pushed it more than he thought he did.

It swings out a little when he releases his grip. He

meets a pair of glaring eyes on the other side of the door
as he inspects it.

349
 The owner of the eyes points the pen he’s
holding to the left side of the door and then looks down
at the papers on the counter he’s leaning on to go back
to writing whatever he was busy with before Safi rattled
the door and disturbed him. He is not amused.

Safi takes the direction to use the left side of the

door to enter, and heads to the man with the eyes, who is
making no eye contact with Safi.

“Afternoon, sir. I’m looking for Constable Zulu,”

says Safi, making sure to put a little bass in his voice to
ward off any intimidation from the cop.

The man, dressed in the full blue South African

Police Service uniform, does not greet Safi.

“Who should I say is asking for him?” asks the

cop.

“It’s Safi Masalu, he’s expecting me,” says Safi.

“Please take a seat over there and I’ll get him for
you,” says the cop, pointing at the benches against the
wall opposite the counter.

“Thank you,” Safi responds as he turns around to

take a seat.

“Hey Zulu, a Mr Safi is looking for you,” the cop

shouts without moving from his position. The yell gives
Safi a fright and interrupts his walk to the bench. He
takes a little pause, and then continues to the bench.

The wait is not long. Zulu comes from behind the

wall to join the cop with the eyes. The cop doesn’t lift his
350
face from the important paperwork but points at Safi
with the pen.

“Mr Masalu,” says Zulu.

“Yes,” Safi stands up and goes back to the

counter.

“Your brother should be ready soon. I hope this

does not become a problem. We seem to get regulars in
our cells and I do not want to have to keep calling you to
fetch him. Or worse: he does something more serious,”
warns Zulu.

“Believe me, we both wish for the same thing.

Having to come here is a problem for me,” responds Safi.

“I’m sure. Let me go get him for you,” says Zulu

and he heads in the opposite direction from which he
came.

“Thank you, sir,” Safi says.

Zulu’s footsteps echo as he walks down the

short corridor on the other side of the arch that exits the
room.

Safi goes back to the bench anticipating a bit of a

wait, but it seems the holding cells are closer than he
thought. After a few minutes, the constable reappears
with Asani right behind him.

They walk across the room behind the counter,

past the cop with the eyes and disappear behind the wall.
A few seconds later, keys in the door on the left wall from
where Safi is seated jingle. The handle lowers, and the
351
cop’s full body waxes into full view from behind the
growing gap between the door and the frame.

It takes a few seconds for Asani to show his face

from behind the cop.

Safi and Asani exchange stony stares, looking

right past the cop between them.

“There you go, Mr Masalu,” the cop breaks the

tension between the brothers, although it’s not clear
which Mr Masalu he’s addressing.

“Thanks again, sir,” says Safi.

The cop turns to Asani.

“And please, I don’t want to see you here again. I

am sure next time I will not be so kind to you,” he says,
handing Asani his cellphone.

“Yes, sir,” responds Asani, feeling more like a

reprimanded teenager than an adult.

Safi starts walking to the door without saying a

word. Asani follows close behind him.

They stay silent entering the car. Asani takes the

back seat of the SUV. Safi does the same on the opposite
side.

This can only mean trouble.

*****

“Thank you for picking me up,” Asani finally says after

more than thirty minutes of brutal silence.

352
 He gets nothing but silence from Safi.

“How’s Thandi doing?” he hesitantly asks his

twin.

Small talk? Really?

An irritated Safi slowly looks at him, then turns

back to watch the road.

“Safi come on, this is not that serious. We’ve

seen bigger problems than…” says Asani

“What the hell were you even doing in Louis

Trichardt? It is not even the weekend yet and you are
already chasing fun and causing trouble?” Safi yells.

As if expecting to be given a chance to respond,

Asani opens his mouth.

“I don’t even want to know, I’m not spending my

whole life picking you up from jail and cleaning up after
you. I should have left you in that cell through the
weekend,” Safi continues.

The driver stiffens his neck to concentrate on the

road.

“You’re being unreasonable. Things could have

been worse. Nothing happened,” responds Asani.

“Probably only because you were detained. I’m

not putting up with your nonsense!” yells Safi even
louder than before.

“And don’t expect me to be grateful that things

aren’t worse, they shouldn’t have to be like this in the
353
first place. I shouldn’t be here to begin with,” Safi carries
on.

“You’re wasting your life on meaningless crap,

Asani! Meaningless crap. After what we’ve been through
to get here, this is how you choose…”

“Oh my God! Stop preaching at me! I’m the mess

and you’re the perfect one. I get it. Stop reminding me of
it every damn chance you get, it’s fucking annoying!”
Asani shouts even louder than Safi.

The driver’s eyes watch the twins on the rear-

view mirror, who are too busy having a go at each other
to notice, or remember that they are not alone.

“We’ve had targets on our backs our entire lives

and now that we have a chance to lay low while having a
normal life, you’re making a spectacle of yourself. A
spectacle of both of us. Over utter foolishness,” yells Safi.

Safi catches his breath. The mere presence of his

brother irritates him.

They are close to Musina. Thank God it’s not that

long.

Beep beep beep beep. The driver’s eyes shoot to

the gauge on the other side of the steering wheel.

“Shit!” he says nervously.

The petrol gauge is flashing red like crazy, one

more kilometre until the car lets up.

How did we not see the warning light before now?

354
 Not once on their way to Louis Trichardt or
driving back home did they think to check the petrol
gauge.

Great.

*****

The next petrol station is in town. Rather than risk having

the car come to a total standstill, Safi and the driver
decide to park the car off the road.

They pick a spot under a big Weeping Willow

tree where a clear but probably illegal resting spot has
been made by motorists. The gravel on the spot is not as
rocky as the rest of the gravel on the side of the road.
There is litter on the other side of the tree.

“I think I’ll walk into town to get help. You guys

wait here,” says the driver.

“Maybe we should all go,” Safi says, not wanting

the driver to do all the dirty work, and to avoid being left
alone with the source of his annoyance.

“No, you guys watch the car, I won’t be long,”

says the driver.

“Okay,” says Safi.

He leaves the keys with Safi and sets off.

Time passes slowly, and the driver is nowhere in sight.

It will be dark soon, so they need to come up

with a plan and fast.
355
 Without consultation with Asani, Safi decides on
the best course of action.

“We better start walking into town if we want to

make it before it gets dark,” Safi instructs Asani as he
pushes the door open to exit the car.

“Are we not waiting for the driver?” Asani asks

him.

“For how long? He’s been gone for a while,” Safi

responds.

“Why don’t we just hitchhike? I’m sure someone

will help seeing that town is five minutes away. It will
take forever on foot,” Asani protests.

“I’m sure that’s the residual beer inside you

talking. If you’re still too hung over to walk, then you
have a problem. Get out of the car so I can lock it,” Safi
says coldly.

They both get out and Safi starts walking

towards town. A reluctant Asani follows him, seemingly
after making sure Safi is actually serious he’s walking the
rest of the way.

They automatically walk on the left side of the

road, the same side they parked the car.

Not long into the walk, Safi sees a faint footpath

on his left side.

The setting sun is barely peeking out from

behind the distant trees and buildings across town.

356
 He pauses for a few seconds, deciding if it would
be wiser to take what he thinks is a shortcut into town
through the township.

He takes a step onto the side path, much to

Asani’s annoyance.

“Are you kidding? Do you even know where this

is taking us?” Asani asks.

“You don’t have to follow me if you have a

better way to get home. Besides, we’re not going to the
same address, are we?” responds Safi without even
turning back to face Asani, who is a step or two behind
him.

“You need to stop, Safi. Every problem we have

seems magnified to you where I’m involved. I’m sorry you
had to pick me up. I had no one else to turn to. Come on,
we’re the only family we have here,” says Asani.

They have made headway into their trek without

realising it. Another few minutes and they will reach the
old graveyard on the outskirts of the township, now
visible to them at a distance.

The yard is unkempt and overgrown with weeds.

The headstones visible to them have either rounded or
flat tops, nothing creative in terms of designs and
individuality.

But there is a clear path along which they are

walking, which leads to the graveyard. Once inside, there
should be an easy way out to the other end and into the
township.

357
 It seems people from the township between the
graveyard and town made the footpath from the main
road to reach the township.

Safi stops and turns to face Asani.

“Let’s get a few things straight. One: I have a

wife, Asani. That makes her family. My family. The family I
chose. Someone I have to be considerate of and answer
to, so I can’t act as recklessly as you if I wanted to. And
two: we both know you would never be there for me the
same way you expect me to be there for you, even for
stupid, self-created ‘emergencies’ like this. So it seems as
much as I may be the only family you have, I can’t say the
same,” Safi retorts.

Before Asani can recover from what feels like a

punch in the stomach from what he said, Safi starts
walking.

A stunned Asani stays frozen in position.

“You’re so bloody inconsiderate. Everything is

for your enjoyment, your convenience, your benefit. As
we speak, my wife is waiting for me at home when we
should have been away together, away from shit like this.
I’m done. Don’t you ever even dream of calling me to
help you until you grow the hell up! I’m tired of it. I’m
tired of you,” Safi carries on, his voice as loud as the
breath in his lungs allows.

“You’re tired of me? You’re tired of me?”

The disbelief is evident in Asani’s tone.

358
 “Oh, now that you have Thandi you’re tired of
me. Like we haven’t been through everything together.
You’re tired of me?” shouts Asani.

Safi stops walking and turns to face him.

“You act like you have never needed me for

anything, like all I do is take and all you do is give,” Asani
starts charging towards Safi in big strides.

“You have the life you want now and suddenly

I’m a problem to you?” says Asani. He walks up close to
Safi as if to threaten him.

The sun has disappeared and neither one

notices. Only a red tint in the sky remains.

“There’s nothing sudden about this, and get out

of my face with your beer stench. Don’t think your little
performance intimidates me,” Safi warns Asani, pushing
his shoulders with his hands to get some distance
between them.

“Do you think you’re better than me? We are one

and the same brother. More than you would like, I’m
sure,” Asani gets closer to Safi’s face, noses almost
touching.

“Maybe we are so alike you don’t like what I’m

showing you about yourself. We have the same pain, the
same scars to heal. You are no better than me,” Asani
says in almost a whisper, then head-butts Safi, which
shocks and angers Safi at the same time.

“What the hell, man,” Safi shouts. He takes his

sunglasses off and throws them on the ground in anger.

359
 He pushes him hard with both hands, and then
pulls him by the collar of his dirty red T-shirt with his left
hand. Then the left side of Asani’s face meets Safi’s right
fist.

It happens so fast Asani does not realise he had

started a fight with his brother. Before his senses kick in,
he hooks Safi’s head with his left arm and punches him in
the stomach with the right fist, landing three punches in
quick succession.

Safi bends his neck forward to get loose from

Asani, and bumps into his fist in the process. He falls back
and loses his balance. Asani charges forward at him.

Safi regains his balance and goes at Asani, head

first.

Ha ha, you were never much of a fighter.

Asani jumps a little to the right as if he had

anticipated that move from Safi and hooks his neck with
his left arm. With his head peeking out behind Asani
through the choke-hold, Safi grabs the collar of his twin’s
T-shirt with his left hand and tries to pull him down.

As if a different character living inside Asani has

come out, he is in total combat mode.

Asani steadies himself, then holds Safi’s left hand

with his right to get the position right.

After a second or two, he pulls his left leg back,

then with all his might, thrusts his knee forward to deliver
a killer blow to Safi’s stomach, while holding the back of
his khaki uniform shirt to make sure he stays in place.
Then a quick second belly blow for good measure.
360
 Safi collapses on the ground and lands on all
fours. Dust rises from the loose dry soil under him. He
breathes it in through his mouth and immediately coughs.

Asani kicks him in the face and Safi lands on his

back and yells out in pain. At this point neither one can
see much in the dark.

With no fight left in him, Safi all but surrenders

to Asani, making no effort to get back up.

Asani straddles him and punches him in the face,

and again, and again. All the built-up anger inside of him
expressed through every punch.

Safi’s lifeless hands fall to the ground on both

sides.

He grabs the top of his head then bashes it

against the ground.

He gets up then steps over his head to stand

away from any attack his brother might try while he’s
catching his breath.

There is no movement, or any noise coming from

the ground.

He waits for a few seconds to see if Safi moves.

Nothing.

*****

“What did I do… Safi… Safi… Oh my God!” Asani says

with panic in his voice.

Safi does not move.

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 Still standing above him, he lifts Safi’s head with
both hands. The fingers on the left hand feel wet. He
pulls it out from under Safi’s head. The warm wetness
cools in the evening breeze and it simultaneously sends a
chill down Asani’s spine as he realises that it’s his
brother’s blood on his hand.

“Oh my God!” he says.

He puts the bloody hand close to his face to

make sure that it really is blood. As if he could see in that
darkness.

The only light comes from the township in the

distance.

He kneels at Safi’s left side and starts feeling his

way up and down Safi’s still body for any sign of life.

His heart starts pounding at the realisation that

his brother is dead.

He’s dead!

Because of me!

By my hands!

*****

A few minutes go by. Asani is on the ground still reeling

from what just took place. What he just did to his own
brother.

His senses slowly come back as the initial shock

wears off.

What have I done?

362
 What am I going to do?

I can’t get caught.

People use this path. I have to move him out of

sight.

But it’s too dark, I can’t see a thing.

He remembers his cellphone. He stands up and

reaches into his left pocket, where he usually puts it, and
pulls the device out.

The drying blood on his hands smear the phone.

After switching it on, he switches on the torch so

he can see his surroundings.

Once he gains his focus, he starts slowly swaying

the torch low to find his brother.

He’s still lifeless, hopelessly so.

He turns back around to see what options he

has.

The graveyard is a good hiding place. The

overgrown weeds and the fact that the graveyard is no
longer in use make it ideal. And it’s the closest option
too.

Without further delay, Asani hurries to his

brother’s body and puts his phone in his left back pocket,
making sure the torch end peeks out at the top to light
his path.

363
 He bends down and places each hand under
Safi’s shoulders and through his underarms. He anchors
them there and starts to pull.

This is going to take more effort than I thought,

he’s heavy.

He lets go of him and slumps over him, realising

again the gravity of the situation.

He positions himself again to start pulling, this

time more prepared for the weight. Not just Safi’s
physical weight, but also the heaviness of the whole
situation.

He pulls, this time with such force that he

manages to move Safi’s body a short distance. He
steadies himself on his feet for a long-haul pull, and does
so without stopping until he comes to a little bend on the
path.

He stops to see where next he needs to be

heading, taking the torch out of his back pocket to
illuminate in front of him.

The path bends to the right, a short distance

after the bend the makeshift back entrance to the
graveyard stands.

Asani summons up the strength to finish his

mission before any passer-by comes.

He wipes dust off his face with his arm, smearing

Safi’s blood on himself.

He quickly puts the phone back into his pocket

as before and starts pulling again while moving
364
backwards. He suddenly feels an urgency to finish the
task and do so without getting caught.

Before long, the pair reaches the entrance, and

Asani automatically takes the first turn to his right.

Now anxious to be out of the creepy place,

especially considering what he’s doing there, he moves
about five graves into the row to hide Safi and conceal his
deed, but he hopes that the body will be discovered so
his brother can at least be buried.

He takes the phone out of his pocket and puts it

on the ground face down so the torch faces up. A glare of
light illuminates his dusty and bloody face from the
bottom, casting a chilling shadow over him.

He then furiously searches Safi’s pockets. He

finds only his phone, the car keys, some money and the
refugee visa. He puts the visa back in his pocket.

He takes the bottom part of his T-shirt and wipes

Safi’s phone of the blood and his fingerprints and throws
it out far into the night. He pockets the keys to the SUV
and the money and sets off into the night.

******

The driver comes back having gotten a lift from a

stranger to the lodge. Another driver brings him back,
with a 5 litre bottle filled with petrol for the SUV.

The car is locked and the twins are nowhere to

be found.

*****

365
Asani can’t wait to get to the other side of the township
to his back room.

He checks his cellphone for the time; it is 7:30pm.

It’s been the longest evening of his life, even longer than
the nights hiding from hunters and their border-jumping
exploits.

He makes sure to use small inside streets to get

to his destination. It will take over half an hour to get
there, but as dirty and soaked with Safi’s blood as he is,
he wishes now more than ever to become a ghost just for
the night and remain unseen.

Maybe I should take this shirt off, that way the

blood and dirt is not so evident if I’m spotted. Damn, that
will make me more conspicuous!

He feels like Asani, the boy with the white skin

again. The boy with a target on his back, only this time,
his sin is yet to be discovered. His sin is of his own doing.

The reason he could be hunted again is lying

lifeless with the other lifeless bodies.

But nobody knows. Even when he is discovered,

why would anyone think I’m guilty of killing my own
brother?

And I’ve never been ahead of hunters before they

knew I’m the prey.

366
 The sleep walker

Asani is spent.

As tired as he is, his adrenalin is rushing so much

that he feels out of control of his own body.

I have to get my mind together.

He leans over the gate for a few seconds to calm

himself a little when he arrives home. He slowly and as
silently as possible, swings the handle to open it. The
sound it makes is only loud enough for his ears.

But he knows he will have no such luck with the

heavier and noisier gate. It squeals from the moment he
pries it open, so he proceeds slowly and pushes it open
only wide enough for his slim body to squeeze through.

He speeds through the little opening and quickly

closes the gate. The squeal bothers him more this time
367
because he has nowhere to hide on this side of the gate.
There are about 25 meters from the gate to his room. He
hopes the kitchen door to the main house that he has to
walk past is closed. Otherwise his secret will be exposed
before he gets to the safety of his room.

He gets a fresh burst of panic as he walks down

to the finish line.

He starts patting his back pockets for his key.

Shit!

All his pockets are also empty except for his

phone, Safi’s car keys and money.

Did I leave it at the police station? Maybe it fell out

during the fight. That could be a problem.

He walks around the block of rental rooms,

praying all the way that his window is open. It’s so dark
back there, and the little space between the building and
the cement panel fence is very thin. He walks past one,
two, three windows. His three neighbours are probably
not home because all three windows are closed and
there’s no light coming from any of the rooms.

He gets to his room.

Thank you, God.

The medium size window is open, held open on

the last hole in the latch. He lifts up the top part and
holds the latch dangling in the middle of the metal frame
with his right hand. The height of the window never
seemed high to him until now.

368
 His left hand holds the bottom part so he can lift
himself over it to get in. He lifts his right leg and struggles
to plant it firmly on the windowsill. His height and the
narrowness of the space make this an awkward exercise.

This is going to be tougher than I thought.

He manoeuvres his stiff and long body until he

manages to get into the house, head first. His bed is
directly under the window, so he slithers his body down
under the white lace curtain covering the window onto
the bed until he touches it with both his hands, gravity
finishes off the job to get the rest of his body into the
house.

He turns around and kneels on the bed and

secures the window latch in place to keep it open.

He slowly gets off the bed and stands in the

middle of the small room facing the little kitchen area.
When he realises that he is home free, his knees buckle
under him and he falls to the ground. His body crumples
forward into a ball and he buries his face inward. The
weight on him suddenly overwhelms him and he lets out
the worst sob he has ever let out. The pain in his voice is
muffled by the bubble his body has created. The bubble
shakes and shivers as he lets it all out.

He stays there until he has no more tear left. He

lifts his head up slowly and unwraps his body to sit over
his folded legs.

The room is dark and feels hollow. The only

motion in the room is the lace curtain behind him softly
flapping in the breeze that’s coming in through the
window.

369
 Dim light trickles in through the small window,
past the old lace curtain that stands over his little
kitchenette across from his bed.

The streaks of light fall on his face. His eyes

remain closed as he gathers the strength to get up.

His wet face feels like a grimy mess. His pale skin
is red around the eyes.

He opens his eye to face the dim light. The last

few tears form thin sheets over his eyes. He closes his
eyes again and sheets gather and stream down his
cheeks. He sees clearly when he opens his eyes again.

He gets up from the ground, empties his pockets

onto the bed and takes off the clothing stained by his
brother’s blood. He puts them in a pile on the floor at the
foot of his bed. He pulls the small blue tub he uses to
bathe from under the single metal frame bed into the
middle of the empty floor between the kitchen cabinet
and the bed.

He walks over to the locked door and flips the

light switch to the right of it on.

His naked and soiled reflection stares back at

him in the mirror hanging over the chest of drawers on
the right side of the room.

Between the door and the kitchen counter is a

big white bucket with a white lid on it on the floor.

He takes the 25 litre recycled white paint bucket

he uses to collect water from the outside tap and
empties the leftover water into the tub.

370
 He puts the tub atop the bucket so he doesn’t
have to bend to the ground to bathe.

He takes the big dark green bar of Sunlight soap

sitting in a left corner on the windowsill he came in
through.

He works up a thick lather on his dripping wet

face cloth and presses it hard on his skin to clean the dry
blood off, starting from his face down his body. The task
is laboured and he moves slower than his natural speed.
When he’s done, he stares at the red-brown colour of the
water, replaying snippets of the fight earlier that evening.

He puts on a clean pair of blue jeans from the

second shelf of the chest of drawers beside his bed and
then takes the tub to empty it at the drain outside the
kitchen door of the main house.

When he gets to the closed door he remembers

the missing key.

Where did I put the spare key?

He looks through the two kitchen drawers and

finds nothing.

He opens the top shelf of the chest of drawers

and runs his right hand along the inside edges starting
from the left. He hits something at the right front corner.
It’s the spare key.

The key stays in the door once the door is open.

He picks up the tub again and goes outside

barefoot.

371
 After rinsing the tub, he collects more clean
water and goes back into his room.

He takes the small old green towel from the back

of the chair in the corner of the room between the chest
of drawers and the kitchen cabinet. He nicked it from the
clothes line outside upon arrival, so it stays hidden in the
corner to dry, without fail.

He puts the tub back on the bucket and uses the

same bar of soap to wash his hair. The thick dreadlocks
vacuum up a lot of the cold water as soon as he dips his
whole head into the tub.

After he’s towelled his hair dry and the towel is

back where it was hanging before, he eyes the clothes at
the foot of his bed.

He turns around, opens the kitchen left drawer,

reaches at the back, and takes out a big white plastic bag.
He takes the clothes and places them in the bag, tying
the two handles to secure it shut. He places the bag
under the bed just a few centimetres from the back leg.

The water from his dreadlocks is dripping down

his back, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

He tries to get up using the bed to pull himself

up, but he is tired. He doesn’t make it all the way. Instead,
he twists his body half way and sits at the end of the bed.
He slowly lowers the naked top half of his body onto the
bed.

It’s been the longest night of his life. He feels

around the bed for his phone and looks at the time.

It’s 9:30pm. He puts the phone on silent.

372
 He stays on the bed until his eyes are heavy with
sleep. He lets it envelope him and just sinks into it, hoping
to wake up and have all this gone.

*****

The nip in the air on his bare chest is what wakes

Asani up just over an hour after he drifted off.

Two missed calls from an unfamiliar number.

It must be Thandi.

He switches his phone off after looking at the

time.

He gets up and closes the window. He sits back

down when he remembers everything.

He gets back down into sleeping position but the

morning comes with his eyes still wide open.

*****

It’s been three days since his brother’s demise and Asani
has not slept through one night. Nor can he forget the
face of the man whose life he ended, even if he tries.
Every time he looks in the mirror he does not see himself
but the bloody sight when he last saw his brother’s face.

He covers the mirror with the green towel so he

can at least hide that reminder. He busies himself to try
to escape his reality. When he can’t find anything to do,
he can always count on his partner in crime, Sfiso, and a
bottle of beer or two to distract him.

His phone stays off.

373
 His partying ways go up a few notches and he
finds himself drunk most nights. His regular piece jobs are
the furthest thing from his mind.

Surviving through this crazy period is all he

wants to do, nothing more, nothing less.

*****

Terror haunts Asani’s sleep. Terror of the past, horror of

the present, and fear of what awaits him in the future.

The terror comes alive at night time. It is the

time when he is alone with his thoughts. It’s the time
when the threat of the outside world is not as big as the
threat in his mind, which is the most powerful.

The tightest grip on him is held by the fear of the

future – not because he doesn’t know how his life will
unfold. He can’t see how he will exist in the world
without his brother.

Not only that, but he doesn’t know if everything

will come back to him if and when his brother is found.

He hopes he is found by now. The thought that

Safi could have been out in the elements and possibly
exposed to roaming animals for days, makes him
remorseful all over again.

*****

He is slowly going insane. It’s 3am and Asani’s still tossing

and turning, battling to find a comfortable position.

He’s had ten straight nights of looping

nightmares and sleeplessness. He doesn’t know how to
374
make it stop. He doesn’t know how to move forward and
find peace.

But he refuses to go on like this.

On this particular night, Asani decides on a new

start.

He waits for the sun to come up.

The crack of dawn brings with it relief. Now

Asani can rise with the new morning and turn over a new
leaf.

It’s a cold morning.

He gets up from the bed and leaves the

sleeplessness behind. He takes the bucket from its place
by the door and goes outside to collect water. He pours it
into the tub and places it on the bucket like he’s done a
million times, placing them both in the middle of the
room.

The sharp sting of the cold water hits him as his

frozen hands splash his face, making him forget the
sleeplessness of the night before. He is so eager to get
the day started - the first item on his to-do list is to rid
himself of the heavy load from his past.

The one thing that has held him down more than
he realised - an umbilical cord of sorts: For the few years
after leaving home, he grew his hair into thick long
dreadlocks as a form of rebellion against the reasons they
had to shave their heads for years. He wanted to reclaim
his right to do with his own body what his well-meaning
grandmother said wouldn’t be wise for their safety.

375
 But now it serves as a reminder and the burden
of an ugly past.

He reaches for the big scissors with the orange

plastic handle from the kitchen drawer.

The first snip of the locks reassures Asani that he

is doing the right thing as he feels the weight of his
burdens fall with them.

He makes a fire in the boma behind the mulberry

tree in the middle of the yard after collecting dry pieces
of wood from around the yard.

The boma is made out of a 25-litre empty can of

house paint, with small coin-size holes punctured all over
the sides to let air in to fan the fire.

His lone chair is outside too, with everything he’s

planning to burn on it.

Along with his old and worn out clothes, he

tosses the hair into the boma.

He has very few belongings, so the little

‘ceremony’ to discard them does not take very long. The
attachment to the clothing is gone: the clothes that had
been battered by their journey through Tanzania,
working on the farm, hitching rides at the back of
strangers’ dirty vehicles, and hiking some of the distance
of their journey.

Each item of clothing carries an identity for the

role it played over the years and through the journey he
took. The long khaki pants that were a few inches too
short were his staple on Albino Island. They are light in
376
weight but were protective from the sun’s rays on his
legs.

The striped blue and white T-shirt is symbolic of

his time living the Harare night life. It’s one of the newest
things he owns, and he felt good in it.

If anything, it is a relief to let go of his soiled

past. It is healing to not be weighed down by the
reminders of the difficulties he has overcome.

With the last of his belongings now ash, he

watches the flames flicker. A last minute idea dawns on
him and he rushes back into the house.

He comes back out running, holding the plastic

bag with his dirty clothes from ten nights ago.

He throws the whole bag into the boma and the

fire gets a fresh boost from the white bag. Asani sits on
the chair and watches the contents burn to nothing.

The sun is up now.

He knows it’s time to face reality.

*****

Thandi is frantic when she sees Asani at the lodge.

“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to get in

touch with you for days,” she starts crying. She hugs him
because hope that Safi is also okay arises in her.

The pair is standing in the lobby of the main

building.

“What’s wrong?” he pretends not to know.

377
 “The driver told us what happened. You two
disappeared before he got back. Where’s Safi?” she asks
him.

He hasn’t been found? He hasn’t been found?

“What do you mean?”

“Where did you guys disappear to?” she asks

him. She looks desperate for answers.

“I don’t know where he is,” he responds.

“Then why was your phone off this whole time?

Where is my husband, Asani?” she raises her voice.

She realises that the venue is inappropriate and

pulls him into the closest office.

She closes the door behind her after forcing him

inside.

“You were the last person with him that night.

You have to know what happened to him?” she yells.

“After Safi and I had a fight and the driver left, I

got out of the car and walked the rest of the way home,”
he explains.

“He let you walk back alone, after the effort to

drive all the way to Louis Trichardt to pick you up? Safi
would never do that,” she shakes her head.

How do I save myself from this one?

“We had just fought, neither one of us wanted

to be in the car together. I had to get out. Did you go to
378
the police? We have to find him,” he’s trying to seem
sincere.

“Do you think I haven’t been to the police in ten

days?”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just worried. I

came here not knowing my brother is missing. I came
here to apologise for the fight. I didn’t expect that he
wouldn’t be here,” he says.

“I’m not accusing you of anything. I just want the

truth,” she sits on the couch behind her.

“Are you okay? Do you need me to get you some

water?” he asks when he sees her rubbing her forehead.

“I’ll be okay,” she waves him off.

“What do we do to find Safi?” he asks her.

“The police are working on it. Please try and ask

around in the township. Maybe someone has heard or
seen something?”

She gets up from her seat.

“I will. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.” He

pulls her by her right hand and hugs her tight.

She stiffens in his arms. The two of them have

never warmed to each other.

She pulls away as softly as she can.

“We’ll talk later, then?” she says.

“Yes, definitely,” he says.

379
 He leaves the office feeling like he’s won a small
victory convincing Thandi that he’s not only ignorant
about what happened that night, she now thinks he’s
concerned about Safi’s welfare.

But he is concerned that his brother could have

been lying where he left him ten nights ago.

*****

“I saw you talking to Safi’s brother. Does he know what

happened to him?” LBD asks Thandi.

She’s sitting in the ‘fish tank’ looking outside.

The sprinklers outside are splashing fake rain against the
window. The hypnotic sound and splatter is soothing to
her. She had gotten lost in the moment and didn’t hear
him coming into the room.

“He says he doesn’t know where his brother is. I

asked him to help us look, hopefully he comes up with
something,” Thandi responds.

“I didn’t want to bring up his absence earlier but

don’t you think it’s strange that he was the last person to
see Safi, yet he only shows his face here over a week
later?”

“Apparently they went their separate ways after

the driver went for help. That was the last time he saw
him. He says he didn’t want to see Safi after the fight.
That’s why he hasn’t been around. I don’t think we
should place any sort of blame on him before we have all
the facts.”

“What if we never get all the facts and he’s the

only one who knows the real story?”
380
 “We can’t alienate him. It’s his brother. Let’s
wait and see what comes up. Something is bound to
come up.”

“Okay, it’s your call. If you need anything or any

help from me, just let me know.”

“Thank you,” Thandi forces herself to offer LBD

a toothless smile.

LBD smiles back before going back to his office.

*****

Asani waits for the traffic in and around the old graveyard
to subside. He has to know what’s become of his brother.

Not many are brave enough to walk through the

graveyard at night for superstitious reason and because
of random crimes that have happened around the yard in
the past.

So when dusk falls, Asani starts his trek down

equipped with the torch on his phone to light up his
search.

The road up to the graveyard is so dark that Asani flips on

the little torch to light his way into the yard. On the
eleventh night it seems different from the last time he
was there.

Fear grips him as he gets close to the place he lay

his brother’s body. He walks in the big aisle between two
columns of many rows of graves.

381
 The rows of old headstones that were white and
pristine at one point are now all the same greying rock
under chipped off paint. The only thing he knows for sure
is that his is the last row at the end of the right column. It
was the first row the other way around, when he was
pulling Safi’s limp body to hide his own shameful deed.

His right hand swings the torch from side to side

between rows. He doesn’t know if he fears some living
criminal jumping out at him from behind the headstones
or if his fear is of the ghostly kind.

His heart trembles more and more the deeper he

gets into the yard. His feet hesitate to move. He’s three
rows away and dread stops him from moving forward.

He contemplates turning around and walking

back home. But he has come this far. And he would still
need to know despite not having the bravery to face
what he has done.

He purposes not to act on his cowardice and do

what he came here to do.

Slowly he lifts his right foot to get moving again.

He reaches the last row. But his torch is fixed on

the first grave, too scared to move.

Just get it over and done with.

The light waves right over the headstones in the

row, then down and into the foot path between the first
row and the next row of headstones. Slowly he moves
the light down the row towards where he’s standing. The
light reaches the first grave and then quickly moves back
up the row.
382
 Safi is not there.

He doesn’t know if he should be relieved or

worried.

He steps back with his right foot and tilts his

body back a little. The light jumps to the next row. He
searches up and down to make sure he didn’t get the
rows wrong.

Nothing.

Now he doesn’t feel the urgency to get out of

there as much as he did just a few moments ago. He
wants to find Safi. Here.

Or does he? He wouldn’t be in good condition if

he did find him.

Now what?

A quiet rustle in the grass brings him back to the

present moment.

He quickly turns around and focuses the light on

the big aisle to light his rushed steps out of the
graveyard. Once in the street, he keeps walking fast and
does not look back.

*****

Three days pass before Asani goes back to the lodge to

give Thandi feedback on his search for Safi. Any feedback
is better than silence. In reality he’s been in his little
backroom trying to figure out the way forward.

She is less than pleased to see him in the lobby.

383
 “You’ve been quiet for three days, Asani. I’ve
been going crazy trying to find your brother while you
were…who knows where!”

“I’ve been looking for him too. I said nothing

because I had nothing to report back. My phone was on
the whole time, it’s not like you couldn’t have called.
What did you expect me to do?”

“Even a text would have been better,” she says.

“Please calm down, Thandi. Can we talk

somewhere private? This is not a good place for this,” he
asks her.

She looks around to see who’s around, and

which room is vacant.

“Not here, maybe a walk?”

“Fine, let me just tell my colleague I’m taking a

break.”

“I’ll wait outside,” he says.

“I’m sorry I’m not better with communication.

I’m trying,” Asani apologises to Thandi.

The big tree on the premises is their shelter for

the duration of their talk.

The bench under the tree is not the place for a

long leisurely bonding session, but it will serve the
purpose for them to have a comfortable conversation
undisturbed.

384
 “It’s fine. I’m sorry if I’m attacking you,” she
says.

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m just a little scared about Safi and frustrated

with this whole process of trying to find him,” she says.

She starts crying. She’s a little embarrassed he’s

watching her fall apart like this.

“I’m sorry…,” she starts to apologise.

“No, no, no. We are in the same boat here. You

are allowed to express how you feel. As much as you
might not see me do it, I have my moments too,” he says
to comfort her.

She’s surprised by that.

“As a man I have to show some strength. We

can’t both fall apart, especially not at the same time.”

“I’ve never asked you how you are doing, he is

your brother,” she feels embarrassed.

“I don’t know how to feel yet. We’ve been

inseparable all our lives and as much as we’ve had our
own separate lives lately, I’ve never gone this long
without at least talking to him.”

He can’t look at her when he talks.

She puts her right hand over the back of his hand
that’s sitting beside her.

“I know I’ve known him less time than you but I

know how you feel,” she says.
385
 She lifts her hand from his.

“Any update from the police yet?” he asks her.

“For now, there is nothing they can do. Other

than the car, there is no sign that anything bad happened
to Safi. He, apparently, has a right to disappear if he
wants to, as an adult. Despite everything I told them
about our plans for the weekend, they say they can’t use
that information to look for him,” she explains to him.

There’s a comfortable hush between them for a

few seconds.

“I didn’t ask you last time I saw you: when and

why did you cut your hair?” she changes the subject.

“Oh! A few weeks ago, I just needed a change.

You know, a fresh new look and fresh new start,” he lies.

“It looks good. You got the fresh new look, how
is the fresh new start going?” she asks.

“It’s a process, but I’m getting there. I just need

to make a few decisions and move on them,” he says
with a shy smile.

“I’m sure you’ll be great, whatever you decide

on.”

“Thank you.”

“Listen, I better go back to work. I don’t really

know what we should do next. If you think of anything,
please let me know. I will call to check how things are
going,” she tells him.

386
 They get up from the bench at the same time.

“Sure. I’ll do the same.”

This time the hug is expected and not as

awkward as before.

“Talk soon,” Thandi says.

“Bye.”

*****

It’s been a month since Safi’s disappearance. The visits to

the lodge have become more frequent and are starting to
seem like the norm now for Asani.

“How are you coping,” Thandi asks Asani.

He thinks about the answer for a few seconds.

“Did Safi ever tell you how we lived in Mwanza?

How we were hunted?” Asani asks.

“Why are you bringing that up?”

“I don’t mean to offend you. I just want to make

a point.”

“Yes, he did tell me.”

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way,

but I’ve had to think of Safi’s disappearance as if we’re
back home. A part of me finds comfort in not having
found him rather than find him dead, and possibly
mutilated. That’s how I’m dealing with it.”

She’s a little horrified.

387
 “I can’t think of him in that way. I can’t mourn
him without knowing for sure that he’s dead,” she rejects
his suggestion.

“I wasn’t saying that’s how you should approach

it. I’m saying that because I know what many Tanzanian
families deal with, I choose to use that as my frame of
reference.”

She wonders if that’s something she is willing to

do yet.

“And you’re not open to the possibility that he

may be alive somewhere and in need of help?” she asks
him.

“I think we would have heard something by now,

don’t you think?”

“I don’t think I’m ready to mourn him yet.”

“You may have to mourn his absence in order to

move forward,” Asani says.

*****

Asani wants the life Safi created: his job and Thandi.

Since their initial meeting, LBD and Asani have

never really interacted, but LBD has a bias against him
based on some of the stories relayed to him by Safi, and
the fact that he is convinced that Asani had a direct hand
in Safi disappearance.

The fact that he’s at the lodge, asking for a job,

and getting chummy with his brother’s wife, tells LBD
that he’s right to be suspicious of him.

388
 But he also promised him that he would make a
plan for him should he decide to get into the workforce.
Asani lands a job as a waiter at the lodge’s restaurant,
that way LBD honours his word while making sure he
doesn’t have to work too closely with the man he doesn’t
trust.

As far as Asani’s concerned, he is one step closer

to his real goal: to take over Safi’s life.

*****

She’s a hard nut to crack, but if anyone is up to the task,

it’s Asani. He wants Thandi and the best time to get her is
now.

They become close because they are both grieving over

Safi.

She’s very conscious of Asani’s changing interest

in her, but she does her best to keep the distance
between them.

*****

Thandi is taking more time off than usual, perhaps the

stress of Safi’s disappearance is now becoming too much
for her.

Only after a few days under the weather does it

occur to her to take a pregnancy test. She gets one each
of about six different brands of long, pink boxes from the
pharmacy, one of which has a time indicator on it.

Her trip back home in the packed white Toyota

taxi is the longest of her life – her nerves are shot and the
389
smell of all the other passengers after a long day’s work
is making her want to throw up.

Back at home she downs two full glasses of

water even before she can put her bag down. Fifteen
minutes pass and she is ready to pee on a few sticks.

She takes three tests, opens them and slowly

fans them in the toilet bowl so she can pee on them at
the same time in case she runs out of urine too soon.

She takes the towel hanging between the toilet

and the basin and spreads it on the floor by her feet with
her other hand. She then takes the wet tests out and puts
them on the towel facing up.

She opens the one with the time indicator and

squeezes the last drops of pee out onto it. She puts it
down with the other ones.

She gets up and washes her hands.

Then she lowers herself to sit on the floor while

she waits.

She wonders how this moment would have

played out if Safi was here with her. How excited he
would be when he found out about being a father.

She misses him now more than ever and the

tears involuntarily fall.

The tests all flash blue crosses after two minutes. The
time indicator says ‘6-7 weeks’.

390
 Her stomach sinks and her excitement about
being pregnant is overshadowed by the realisation that
she will have to do it all alone.

*****

Asani finds new purpose now. He’s starting to see a

future he never got a picture of in the past. Safi did all the
ground work and all he has to do is step into a ready-
made life.

Maybe we were not meant to exist simultaneous

for me to make a success of myself.

His urge to drink has all but disappeared because

he’s so busy in the day that he can think of nothing else
to do after work but sleep. And he knows Thandi would
never entertain him as long as drinking was still a big part
of his life.

*****

Do I tell Asani about the baby?

I wonder if he’ll be happy he’s going to be an

uncle?

I need to figure out the way forward before I tell

anyone anything.

*****

“Where have you been, I haven’t seen you for three days,
everything okay?” Asani asks Thandi on her first day back
at work.

391
 She’s in the dining area for a cup of tea. Asani is
clearing tables after a few guests have eaten breakfast.

“Yes, I’m okay thanks. I just needed a few days

off. I think I’m exhausted or something.” Thandi says.

She’s a little thrown by how much resemblance

to Safi she sees in his face. Although they are twins, there
was always a difference between them, perhaps
exaggerated by the vast difference in their characters.

“How’s work going? Used to the job yet?” she

asks him.

“I’m getting there, it’s a little exhausting but I’m

enjoying it so far,” he tries to sound motivated.

“You’ll get there.”

“I’m glad to see you back. Let’s have dinner

together tonight. We are technically family, but we’ve
hardly seen or spoken to each other lately.”

She can’t argue with that.

“Sure thing. I’ll cook,” she says.

“No, don’t stress about it. I’ll bring dinner to

your place. You’ve just come back after resting, the last
thing you need is the stress of entertaining,” Asani says.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’ll take care of it.”

“Are you cooking? Your brother’s a horrible

cook, if you are anything like…”

392
 He interrupts her so she doesn’t remind him of
Safi.

“I have no intention of cooking. I’m afraid that

handicap was the only thing my brother and I had in
common,” he laughs.

“Okay, I’ll be ready at 7:30pm.”

“Great. See you then,” he says.

She walks off to get her cup of tea. Thoughts of

Safi flood her mind as she reminisces about getting him
coffee every morning without fail.

She replays the conversation she just had with

Asani.

Did he just say: … I’m afraid that handicap WAS

the only thing my brother and I HAD in common?

Why speak of Safi in the past tense.

His demeanour is hardly that of someone who’s

lost someone they love just over a month ago.

Is LBD right about Asani?

*****

Asani has arranged some food from the lodge kitchen.

The dinner is on two white round porcelain plates under
shiny silver domes. He takes a little longer walking to
Thandi’s living quarters because he’s trying to make sure
that the huge tray carrying the two plates gets there
intact. He certainly doesn’t need any gravy messing the
393
crisp white shirt he went back to his room to change into
before collecting the food.

He puts the tray on a little side table Thandi has

on her little porch. Safi moved over with it when he
moved into their bigger place after the lobola was
concluded. The small armchair and the little table are the
only things she let him bring to their new home.

He knocks on the door and straightens his shirt

while waiting. He stands in front of the door for a second
before remembering the tray.

He picks it up quickly then gets back into

position as Thandi opens the door.

The bright yellow light from inside hits her like a

halo and Asani catches his breath. She’s in a flirty white
dress with long sleeves and high heels.

He’s never seen her long dreadlocks down.

“You’re on time. Come in,” she moves aside to

let him in.

The domes shift a little as he tries not to bump

into her as he enters.

He goes straight to the table in the small kitchen

to the right of the door and places the tray there. He
removes the plates from the tray and puts the tray on the
counter.

She’s still standing at the open door, watching

him. Her mind drifts to the days Safi was in that same
kitchen, making her something to eat.

394
 Asani is acutely aware that she must be feeling
strange about spending time with him in private. But he’s
okay with going ahead with his plan, as long as she lets
him.

He proudly opens the domes as if he’s the chef.

“Are you hungry, I made roast beef and

veggies.”

“YOU made the food? Very funny.”

She closes the door then joins him at the table.

He pulls the chair out for her and she remembers

the nights Safi made her feel like a pampered lady.

They have a drink on the couch after dinner. She made

sure there is no alcohol in the house so she doesn’t have
to explain or lie about why she doesn’t want to have any.
She’s a mango juice fan, Asani has no option but to drink
the sweet and thick juice after the heavy meal.

“So, how’s work going, you seem to have

everything under control?” she asks him.

He clears his throat.

“I haven’t broken anything yet. We’ll have to see

how it goes going forward. I just want to learn as much as
possible and work my way up the ranks over time.”

“You will get there. It will take hard work, but

you will get there.”

395
 Thandi seems open and relaxed today. He figures
this may very well be the perfect time to make his
intentions known.

They are sitting close enough for their hands to

touch as they each hang them over the back of the
couch. Asani’s left and Thandi’s right legs are lifted onto
the couch, so they face each other slightly. She has her
right ankle under her left calf.

“Everything okay with you? I mean, we haven’t

spoken about Safi in a while. I just want to make sure you
are okay,” he says.

“It’s starting to sink in that he may never come

back. I’ll always wonder what happened to him, but I
have to move on with life,” she says.

He sees this as his cue.

“I agree with you. And there’s no better time to

do that than as soon as the opportunity presents itself,”
he tells her.

She gives him a confused look.

He leans over to kiss her. He pins her head

against the couch for a kiss. He pulls away for a second to
see her reaction.

She gives him a slight smile. He kisses her again.

*****

Thandi and Asani seem to have made peace with Safi’s

disappearance and they are moving on with their lives,
together. And fast.

396
 LBD is sickened by the sight of Safi’s brother and
his wife getting close. He has seen Asani coming out of
her living quarters at the crack of dawn. He never knew
Thandi to be that kind of girl.

Months pass and Thandi’s pregnant belly swells.

Asani is thrilled to have the family he set out to build from
the beginning. A family his brother wanted but never
managed to realise.

LBD wonders about the baby. But he will have to

keep it to himself.

Thandi knows Asani will never be the same as

the man she married, nor will he ever be the father of her
child.

397
 Haunted sleep

The dark night is so cold, the wind unforgiving.

I never come back to this place for fear of being

haunted by the spirits that lie here. Haunted by the sins of
my past.

I don’t know why I’m here.

I’m dressed in black from head to toe like a thief in

the dead of night.

He rises from under a nameless slab of stone in the

distance like smoke. The smoke is in a shape of a man, but
it can’t be real because he has been gone and silent for a
long time.

He floats towards me slowly as if navigating a

route that only he can see. But the closer he gets, the
colder the resting place of the dead becomes. The air feels
frozen and evil fills the atmosphere.

398
 I’m standing at the entrance but I don’t want to be
here.

He becomes more real and colour envelops him as

he gets closer.

He wears a long white linen robe. The rose tint on

his pale cheeks makes him real and alive.

It can’t be true.

My heart starts racing and my body wants to run

as far away from here as possible. I want to turn around to
escape this tortuous vision.

But he lifts up his right arm vigorously, pointing to

where I’m standing. My body lifts from the ground and
floats to face him.

I look at the face of my brother that now seems

like a stranger. He knows it was me that put him in his
resting place.

The stare in his eyes is cold and angry, and the

captivating hold he has on my body starts to shake and I
tremble with fear.

He flings his arm out with such force that the grip
on me loosens and I fly into the dark night until I lose my
presence of mind.

A second later I open my eyes from my bed. I’m in

the same white robe my brother has on.

Next to me is my wife, face up, sound asleep.

I try to get up but my body is frozen.

399
 A strong wind starts to blow outside the house.
Trees move like they will soon be uprooted.

The windows of the house start shuddering and all

I hear is rattling glass. The roof is shaking and starts to lift.

Tile by tile, I hear them flying off the top of the

house until they peel off in stacks. And then the ceiling rips
off in one go, and flies over us then out of sight.

The whole roof is bare and the cold wind swirls in

the room, tumbling everything in it. The bricks in the wall
start to chip away like dry bark off a tree and are blown in
the same direction as the roof.

The bed is firm in its position and Thandi sleeps

undisturbed.

The windows shatter with a bang and all the glass

floats away like waves in the wind.

The contents of the room then start going one by

one: the coat hanger in the corner close to Thandi.

The dressing table and the chair follow.

The walls are half way down.

The two dressers in the room go.

The front of the house is clear to expose the

source of the wind.

Glowing in his light, Safi hovers above the ground

in his white robe and out of his mouth is blowing away
everything I took from him.

400
 A sleeping Thandi lifts up along with the covers
and she too goes with the other contents of my house.

I’m forced up as well, into the standing position

and like a magnet, he pulls me closer to him until I’m
standing on air a few metres away.

Both our robes are flapping in the wind. We are on

level ground and we have nothing between us.

I feel defenceless. He feels like an evil force of

power.

The angry wind leaves nothing in its wake and

when not even debris remains, Safi stops his destructive
mission.

The glow dissipates and his visage comes into full

focus.

The anger in his eyes is raw and vengeful.

Lifting his shoulders, he gathers all the might in

him and sets off to charge at me.

He ploughs into my stomach with his shoulder and

I am knocked on my back with a huge bang.

Asani is panting like all the air had been knocked

out of him. He sits up in his bed. Thandi looks scared next
to him.

401
 Resurrection

The sight of white slate above him causes confusion. His

tongue pushes his lips open and he feels just how dry
they are. His throat also feels dry as his moving tongue
creates space at the back of his mouth.

He clears his throat and licks his lips, but he can’t

seem to get enough wetness to go around. He clears his
throat again and again, soon he is coughing
uncontrollably. He tries to sit up but he can’t. Instead, he
tilts his head to the left. He finds enough strength to lift
his right arm up and over his body.

The door on the left side of the bed opens and a

pair of feet in white shoes quickly comes in and walks
towards him. The legs attached to those feet come into
fuller view as the feet get closer.

“Mr Masalu, you’re awake!” an excited female

voice says.

He continues to cough.

402
 She hurriedly picks him up before he falls off the
bed and helps him to sit up. She sits at the edge of the
bed so she can hold him up with her left hand while trying
to pour water from the jug into the glass sitting on the
side table on the left side of the bed.

She finally manages to get half of the glass filled

and lifts it up to his mouth. He struggles to be still enough
to get the edge of the glass between his lips.

“Please calm down, Mr Masalu. Please calm

down,” she says to him.

He looks at her face for the first time and the

calming look on her friendly face immediately mellows
him.

She presses the glass to his slightly open lips and

slopes it to pour the water into his mouth. He just lets it
happen.

Once the water wets the inside of his mouth and

slides down his throat, his lips quiver and he begins to
drink on his own.

The friendly face smiles at him.

*****

The room he’s in is pale yellow, which looks like a good

contrast to the stark white that covers everything else in
the room, from the door and ceiling, to the wooden bed
Safi is in and the bedding he’s under.

He sits there looking around and wondering why

he’s alone. The silence is a bit much for him. Only after
403
realising that he is alone does he wonder what this place
is.

As pale and desolate as it is, it still feels warm

somehow. The window to the right side of the room is
big and is a perfect square. The wooden frame is painted
white, which adds to the warmth of the space. The brass
handle on the left of the frame sits vertically and the
window is secured shut. The thin white floral lace is too
short for the window, creating a gap of about five
centimetres above the windowsill.

The woman who gave him water earlier opens

the door and comes in. She opens the door wider to let a
nun enter the room.

Her dark and perfectly round face is framed by

the navy blue and white habit, with specs of grey hair
peeking out of the crown band.

She comes in with a wide smile on her face, her

right hand grasping the cross at the end of the rosary
around her neck.

“God has answered our prayers, Mr Masalu.

You’re awake,” the nun says. She stands beside his bed,
almost leaning on the side table and looks at him.

“How are you?” she asks him.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Safi says. His voice comes

out slightly croaky.

She smiles even wider at the first sound of his

voice. She looks back at the nurse still standing beside
the open door.

404
 “My name is Sister Ruth, and that is your nurse,
Naledi,” the nun does the introductions.

“We found your identification with your

belongings when the hospital brought you here.”

Safi looks confused.

“I’m Masalu?”

“Yes, Safi Masalu. You don’t remember

anything?” Sister Ruth asks.

Naledi comes closer and stands at the foot of the

bed.

Safi feels strange to be on display under the two

women’s stares.

“No, I can’t remember anything,” Safi tells them.

*****

“Thank you,” Sister Ruth tells the woman collecting Safi’s

meal tray. It was not much of a meal because Sister Ruth
thought Safi should ease his way into eating again. His
bowl of yoghurt and sliced banana is empty.

She’s standing at the foot of the bed.

“This is St Marys Care Centre in Polokwane. We

are a Catholic facility that gives care to people who have
been through physical and psychological trauma. We will
do our best to rehabilitate you and later help you with
some counselling, hopefully over time that will help you
remember who you are and how you got here,” Sister
Ruth tells Safi.

405
 A porter comes into the room and greets Sister
Ruth and Safi.

He’s dressed in all white.

“Good morning, Stanford. Please bring the chair

from behind the door and put it close to the window. I
thought it would be a nice change for Mr Masalu to get
into a different position.” She turns to Safi and says: “I’m
sure you slept enough to last you a lifetime.”

Stanford has moved the chair over even before

Sister Ruth has finished talking.

“Let me help you out of bed. I’ll hold you up. You
haven’t walked in a long time,” Stanford tells Safi.

He uncovers Safi’s legs, and exposes the light

blue long pyjamas Safi’s wearing.

He slides his arm under Safi’s knees and swings

his legs off the bed while wrapping his left arm around
Safi’s back. He pulls him up off the bed. He moves quickly
to get him into the chair. Safi wobbles on his feet, but
Stanford is holding him.

He falls into the chair.

“Are you comfortable?” Stanford asks him.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Is that not better?” Sister Ruth asks.

“How long have I been here?” Safi asks. He’s not

exactly sure who he’s directing the question to.

406
 “You’ve been here for just over six months. You
were at the hospital for about three weeks before they
brought you here for recovery. Our doctors and nurses
have done a great job to get you to this point,” Sister
Ruth tells him.

“Six months? I’ve been unconscious for over six

months?” Safi is shocked.

“You’re awake now, that’s the important thing.

Although there’s a long road ahead of you, I have no
doubt that you will make a full recovery,” Sister Ruth
reassures Safi.

*****

The next weeks and months are slow and Safi puts in a
lot of hard work to learn to use his muscles again. Rehab
takes its toll on his body. Some days are more painful
than others.

After strenuous physical therapy and counselling

sessions, he finds that he needs time alone to process
everything he’s feeling.

He likes to lie on the bed facing the ceiling as if

he’s meditating.

Often times he blinks for what feels like a

moment, and when he opens his eyes again, the whole
afternoon is gone.

*****

“Morning, Safi. Did you sleep okay last night?” Naledi is

starting to be the best thing about waking up in the
morning for Safi.
407
 She’s leaning in at the door without coming into
the room.

“Good morning, Naledi. I slept great, thank you.

How are you doing?” he says as he sits up in bed.

“I’m fine, thank you. I just came to check on you

before your breakfast and medication. Any pain?” she
asks.

He thinks about it for a few seconds.

“No, I slept through the night. I’m not in any pain

right now.”

She gives him a big smile.

“Good, I’m glad. I’ll come back later once you’ve

eaten to give you medication.”

“I’m taking a walk a little later. It would be nice if

you could join me? Maybe on your break?” Safi asks
Naledi.

He’s bolder in his approach than he would have

been in the past, perhaps because the insecurities that he
lugged around with him all his life disappeared along with
his memory.

Naledi is surprised that he asked, but she’s glad

he did.

“That would be nice, thank you. I’ll let you know

when I take my break so we can go,” she says.

“Great, thank you,” he says with a smile before

she disappears behind the closing door.

408
 *****

“You know so much about me and I know nothing about

you,” Safi tells Naledi, then remembers that he’s not
working with much in terms of his own history.

They sit on a bench outside to rest after walking

for twenty minutes. Safi’s stamina is improving, but it’s
not what it used to be.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything. How’s that for a start?” Safi says,

then laughs.

“Not a bad one, but I’m afraid I’m still trying to

figure that out myself.”

“Well, do you mind if I join you while you

discover since we’re in the same boat?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I really like you and I’d like to get to

know you more. I love the time we spend together.”

“I enjoy you too …”

“Just enjoy?”

She laughs.

“You’re something else!”

*****

The dreams start slowly and become more frequent.

They stay with him for longer.

409
 This dream is different from the last few: He’s
outside looking in on a white silhouette running from
black shadows that increase in number the further they
chase him. The space is dark grey and leads nowhere.

He doesn’t identify with anyone or the place but

the scene replays in his mind when he’s awake. It worries
him to the point where he sometimes picks the dream up
where he left off the night before. All he does is run,
endlessly.

Tonight is very different and he’s front and

centre of the dream. In the dream he is looking in the
mirror but he feels as if the reflection is not really him. It
looks like him, but he doesn’t feel one with it. He doesn’t
like the person he’s looking at and the longer he looks
into the mirror, the angrier he becomes. The reflection
mirrors his anger back to him.

The dream scares him awake in the middle of the

night.

He wonders if the counselling is waking up

emotions he doesn’t know are buried deep inside him.

He knows he may not like what he uncovers, but

that’s the only way he can discover who he is.

*****

When morning comes, Safi finds himself standing in front

of the mirror behind his door. He inspects his face,
looking for the man he saw in his dream last night.

His fingers massage his cheeks. A trace of

confusion shows as his forehead creases.

410
 His eyes move up to his head. The mop of thick,
unruly hair stands on end. His caretakers managed very
few trims while he was in a coma, but his hair is the least
of his concerns now.

He feels further than he ever was from

discovering his identity.

*****

“Did you sleep okay, you look exhausted,” Naledi ask

Safi.

“I’ve been having these dreams…I don’t even

know how to explain them,” he says.

Their walk is more silent than usual until now.

They haven’t gotten very far.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks him.

He nods. He knows keeping anything in means

more to unravel in counselling.

“Let’s find a quiet spot inside to sit so we can

talk properly. We can walk again later,” Naledi suggests.

“I dream a lot about outside threats attacking or trying to

attack me. That seems to be the thread with most of my
dreams. Last night I dreamt that I was attacking myself. I
was angry for some reason, but at the same time, it felt
like it wasn’t anger coming from inside of me.”

They are sitting across from each other in a small

private therapy room. Only two armchairs fit inside the
411
room. A small wooden table sits between the chairs. Two
upside down glasses and an empty jug sit on a small silver
tray on the table.

“Do you think the dreams have something to do

with why you are here? How you got injured?” Naledi asks
him.

“I don’t know. I can’t tell if they’re even real. For

all I know I was never in any danger before.”

“You were pretty banged up from what I read in

your medical report. That to me says you were in danger
enough to make at least those injuries possible.”

Safi thinks about it for a second.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should focus on

working to see if my memories starting from how I got
here can uncover every other memory going backwards.
Is that possible?”

“I don’t know, but I think it’s worth exploring

with your therapist. It can’t harm to ask.”

“That’s worth looking into, I guess,” he says

nervously.

“You sound unsure?”

His arms are on the armrests and he holds both

ends of the armchair so tightly that his knuckles turn
white.

“I’m just not sure if I want to know what could

have happened if my injuries were as bad as you say they
were.”

412
 She leans in and puts her left hand on his right
hand.

“Don’t be scared. Just remember why you’re

doing this and you will be fine. You have to know where
you come from so moving forward is even possible.”

“I guess you’re right.”

*****

The chess board in the centre’s common area is attractive

to him but Safi doesn’t know why. He watches others
playing the game to pass the time or as part of therapy
but he feels most comfortable watching from a distance.

He tries to remember if he ever played the game,

under what circumstances, with whom.

He draws a blank. But he knows it means

something to him.

*****

Safi wakes up from the afternoon nap when the setting

sun on his face coming in from the gap at the bottom of
the lace disturbs his sleep. The red glow that his closed
eyes see over his lids makes him pause a little. Something
feels familiar about this.

He turns his head to his left before opening his

eyes to avoid the sting he knows comes from direct light
into his eyes.

He makes a connection with what makes the red

glow over his eyes familiar: he sees himself sitting on a
rock enjoying the sun and seeing the same red glow
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through his closed eye. He remembers the feeling of
peace and happiness that he felt in that moment.

But he doesn’t know where or when this is, or if

it even happened. But he clings onto the good feeling
that is brought on by that thought.

*****

“How’s therapy going? Any progress with the dreams?”

Naledi doesn’t wait until their daily walk to ask Safi, as
she had intended to.

Right after his breakfast tray has been collected,

she’s already inside his room holding the door open for
the porter to leave before closing it behind him.

“Good morning to you too,” he smiles.

He gets off the bed and sits on the chair that has
stayed by the window since Stanford first put it there.

He’s forgotten the first time he made the move

to that chair because he hasn’t needed anyone’s
assistance to do it in weeks, albeit slower than he
naturally would have done in his healthier days. He’s
almost back to that agile young man again.

“Sorry, good morning. I’ve just been thinking a

lot about you lately. I just wanted to know if you’ve made
any progress because I know that aspect of your recovery
worries you,” she says.

“You’re thinking a lot about me?”

She rolls her eyes and walks past Safi to lean

against the windowsill looking at him.

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 “That would be the important part of the whole
thing I just said to you!”

He stands up from the chair and leans on the sill

with her.

“That’s the important part to me,” he says.

He leans in and plants a firm peck on her lips.

She’s stunned by it.

“You don’t want me to kiss you?”

She puts her left hand on top of his right hand on

the windowsill.

“No, I do want you to. This could get me fired,”

she whispers.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure this out.”

He’s glad that there is a ‘this’ to figure out.

That’s enough for him.

*****

He’s on the outside looking into their bedroom from above.

Bibi is in the bedroom with the twins. It’s Asani’s

turn to read the Bible verse tonight.

“Asani, I thought Joel 2 verse 25 is a good one for

tonight,” Bibi says.

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 She’s sitting at the foot of their bed holding the
candle. Safi sees himself sitting on the bed, leaning against
the wall, waiting to hear what the verse says. And for Bibi
to tell them what it means.

He is fully aware that he’s dreaming. But he knows

this is familiar and real.

Déjà vu.

“I will restore to you the years that the swarming

locusts has eaten, the hopper, the destroyer, and the
cutter, my great army, which I sent among you.”

Asani looks at Bibi after reading the verse.

“People suffer a lot in life, because we live in a

world that has all sorts of evil working in it. But God is
watching, and in time, will end the suffering. And beyond
that, he will give us more than what we lost.”

“But he put us in the same place as the

destroyer?” Asani says.

“The only place God’s children will not suffer is in

heaven, where evil and the devil have no place. Right now,
the devil operates on earth, but his time is limited. And our
time for restoration is coming.”

The candle dims and the scene before his eyes cuts
to black.

He wants to go back. He wants to see her again,

and him.

Safi wakes up. It’s still dark outside.

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 This has to be real. Right? He knows he loves the
old woman, and the boy that looks like him.

She called him Asani.

Is that the same person I saw in the mirror before?

The person he confused for himself?

He can’t have been looking in the mirror in his

earlier dream

It has to be his brother.

*****

It seems that the floodgates are wide open and the flow
of memories and information is steadily helping Safi
rebuild himself again. The next few days see the gaps in
his memory fill up rapidly.

The therapist suggests keeping a pen and paper

close by and writing everything down, even if he thinks
it’s not a memory or important.

The memories of Bibi are the first for Safi. And

the best. He keeps thinking of her face to ensure she
stays in the forefront of his mind.

He remembers sharing the room with his twin

brother, and sharing many fights and laughs with him.

He remembers Omary, and Juma. He remembers

the time he spent the whole night in the woods, and
coming back spotty, and the feast Bibi made for them the
day after.

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 He puts the next big puzzle piece in place:
Ukerewe Island, and Lucy. And how he felt when she
rejected him.

His friends on the island come back to him. The

many talks and games of chess with Chris meant so much
to him.

The reason he and Asani had to move off the

island, and what Omary told him about their mother.

He replays the trip to Dar es Salaam, then out of

Tanzania, and the journey down to South Africa.

He remembers his job at the game lodge, his

boss, and Thandi … his wife. He has a wife.

He then remembers how he got injured. He lost

the ugly fight he had with his brother in the open field.
Waking up at the rehab centre is his next memory.

He is enveloped with emotions, all of them.

Sometimes they come more than one at the same time.
His sleep pattern becomes erratic as he tries to make
sense of the past he’s learning he has.

He takes weeks to sort through the memories

and emotions. But slowly they come together.

He knows he has found himself again.

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 Glossary:

Asani – A Swahili name meaning rebellion

Bibi – A Swahili noun meaning grandmother

‘China’ – South African slang for buddy, friend

Dop – An Afrikaans term for an alcoholic drink

Ivul’umlomu – A small fee the bride’s family can ask for to

open up negotiations – an ice-breaker of sorts. Literally
translated, it means something to ‘open up one’s mouth’

Kraal – a traditional African village of huts, typically inside

an enclosure or fence. An enclosure for cattle or sheep is
also known as a kraal

Lobola – Dowry or bride price

Mjomba – A Swahili noun meaning uncle

Mganga (plural: waganga) – medicine man (men)

Moruti – Sesotho word for priest or pastor

Pap – Staple food in South Africa made of maize meal.

Dry maize ground into a fine powder, which is cooked in
boiling water into porridge. Similar to ugali and sadza

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Pikipiki – A small, usually old motorbike or scooter used
as a taxi for one or two people

Safi – A Swahili name meaning pure

Sadza – Staple food in Zimbabwe made of maize meal.

Similar to pap and ugali

Shebeen – A drinking hole, mostly in a township, either

attached to or run from a house in a residential area

Skorokoro – South African slang for a beat-down, old

vehicle

Ugali - Staple food in Tanzania made of maize meal.

Similar to pap sadza

Zeru-Zeru – Swahili word meaning ghost

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 Also by
Lebohang Nthongoa

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