JUST A GIRL

The frigid winter mornings were always hard on Natasha. Not only did she have to brave the elements and help out with the chores around the house; but she also had to deal with the duties of being a deputy parent to her mischievous and often insufferable little and cousin bother. This particular morning strained her psyche for different reasons. The texture of the air was chilling, anxiety swirled with the cold winter air. The mood could have induced grand hysteria in even the dullest oracle.

“Natasha, hurry up you are going to miss the bus”, screamed her mother.

A cloud of mist suddenly enveloped the air outside as soon as she left the house, almost as if Natasha’s uneasiness was augmenting the weather itself. She was now ready to embark on her journey of self-discovery and personal growth. 

“I am right behind you Mama, why are you always like this?” replied Natasha in a hush tone as she lugged her suitcase out of the hut.

Natasha although possessing a modest build was just a girl. House tasks and the odd errand to the growth point or the watering hole gave her a semblance of strength, but the 16-year-old could hardly manage the luggage that her mother had given her to carry her belongings on her trip.

“How am I supposed to calm down when my precious Natasha is on her way to the big city for school? How am I supposed to survive without my brilliant daughter?”, pleaded her mother as she spotted Natasha’s bag on to the top of her head.

Natasha usually could not handle her mother’s overbearing nature, but she summoned strength from the very depths of her soul to refrain from taking her words literally and retreating into the house. It could have been the frigid morning air in Gweru, the uncertainty of not knowing whether or not the bus she was supposed to board had arrived at her station or the anxiousness of a village teenager setting off from her rural home in the reserves; embarking on a journey on roads less travelled that would warrant Natasha this level of vulnerability.

Natasha walked besides her mother, making casual conversation on their way to the bus stop until they reached their destination; trying her best to ease her mind from how much her life was about to change—stewing on how she was going to fare at Harare Polytech College and how much her lifestyle was going to change. As the prospects of leaving home started to become clearer the bus stop sign emerged from the mist.

“Natasha I am going to return home now, Dumisani and Farai will wake up soon and if I do not wake those boys up, they will wake up at noon,” proclaimed her mother as she helped Natasha bring down her often hand luggage at the bus stop.  

“Those silly boys are going to be late for school anyway, they will be fine mother,” insisted Natasha as she fixed her hair and straightened her floral dress with her hands.

“You might be right, but I have to leave you to board your bus now. Don’t forget to take care of yourself and greet your brother for me,” said her mother as she hugged and kissed her goodbye.

Natasha’s mother left her at the bus stop and disappeared into the dissipating mist, leaving her in a melancholy silence anguishing on her mother’s departure and contemplating when they would enjoy her company again. Then at the corner of her eye she saw Mrs. Makoni push her wheelbarrow full of treats towards the bus stop.

As she observed the vendor, she had known all of her life roll into station she thought, “I wonder if Mai Makoni has any Lemony Creamy Biscuits.”, as the mist continued to roll back.

~Fin~

Thanks for reading drop a like and a comment and gear up for the next instalment.

-M.C Bvuma

An Encounter

Cruising down this boulevard is so surreal. The streets are clean, the roads devoid of blemishes, and the jacaranda flowers are cascading in an erratic yet persistent succession along the walkways from the trees. I understand why the Northerners are reluctant to leave this beautiful country. 

The traffic on my way to work is nominal, tranquil bordering on monotonous, yet the busy young pedestrians walking briskly to avoid getting stick from their bosses for clocking in late always catches my eye. Especially the younger ladies whom I have unknowingly conditioned myself to spot, “maybe my aunt is getting to me,” as they rush to the solitary vendor on Wellness Boulevard who had indicated to me on one of our rare interactions of their peculiar affinity to Lemony Creamy biscuits.

I have grown fond of my lifestyle and the amenities that come to it including my red minty 1987 Nissan 620 single cab, cozy yet compact 1-bedroom company flat and fair wage but there have been rumors that my company is looking to open a new branch in one of the cities satellite settlements recently renamed Chitungwiza. I have been a junior sales associate at Cleverly Builders Association for a couple of years and I am hoping that I get a managerial position. Imagine, little Tanunurwa from Bocha, a manager at one of the biggest insurance brokers in the country at 23; my eyes shimmer with excitement. The future that lies ahead entices me. A bigger salary, company car, loan facilities, company house … I think you get it. 

I reached the office, waved the guards, proceeded to my associate parking spot and hopped out of my bakkie (Single Cab). Rounding up my morning routine by checking my outfit in the glass mirror at the office. Today I was looking dapper in my tweed suit and presidential brogues, a rhinoceros wouldn’t be able to halt my charge.

The end of the workday beckoned the exodus of Tanunurwa from the busy offices of Cleverly Builders Society. I strolled out of the building dejected; starved of the promotion I had been praying for which initiated a dilemma in my brain, putting it through a ringer, “ancestors, have they forsaken me,” I debated in my head as I climbed into my bakkie and drove out of my spot. I waved the security guard on my way out and continued to contemplate plotting my prospects. “I should visit Rupert and follow up on his proposal since this Cleverly gig is not progressing the way I want it to. I might as well take that risk you’ll never know in this life,” rang the voice in my head as I turned into Wellness Boulevard, when my stomach let out a vicarious growl prompting me to pull over to the side of the road to procure a bag of crisps and Gush, my favorite tropical dairy drink.  

As I made my way to the local vendor I felt the presence of the most beautiful woman in the world right behind me. I never thought I would be the man to be at a loss for words but her round face, smooth brown skin and gentle smile had taken my breath away and unfortunately for me she seemed to have taken noticed. So in the spur of the moment I made an abrupt motion I turned to her and said in a muffled panic with a subtle smile, “Hi I’m Tanunurwa would you mind if I bought you some Lemon Creamys?”

~ End ~

Thanks for reading, and gear up for the next instalment that is coming next.

-M.C Bvuma