Runyararo
Runyararo knocked on her father’s office door, when she heard a hushed “Pinda” she pushed the door open and peered in. Her father was at his desk, his head bent over some papers. Beside him was a glass of water, half filled and a closed Bible. She glanced around the room; his office was always kept tidy. He was very strict about it, telling Sisi Abigail that it must be swept every day.
“Deddi?”
He looked up from his papers. “Runyararo,” he answered, eyebrows raised. “What’s the matter?”
“Sisi Abigail vapedza kubika. Are you coming to eat?”
“Ah yes yes. Thank you. I will be there just now.”
She was just moving to leave when he asked, “ Has Clemence arrived?”
Runyararo paused and swallowed back a feeling of unease. Clemence had not come to church again today. She had noticed that her father had been far from pleased about it. He had been in a foul mood before the church service, scowling and muttering. It was only when more people had started arriving and settling in for the service that he had calmed down. But she had known that Clemence’s absence had been far from forgotten; far from forgiven.
“Not yet,” she answered carefully. “But he will be back in a few minutes, I think.”
“Alright,” her father replied.
The feeling of unease grew, there was a weight behind the simple word that seemed to promise that supper tonight would not be a pleasant. She nodded in answer but her father did not see, his attention on his papers and work once more.
Runyararo stepped back from the room and quietly closed the door. She pressed her palm to it and closed her eyes. Oh Lord, she whispered, give me strength, she whispered beneath her breath. She took a deep breath and headed back towards the kitchen. She needed to help Sisi Abigail lay the table before she left.
She sighed as she moved through the lounge, she glanced at the TV which had been tuned to some cooking channel on DSTV. She glanced away.
She had had enough of the constant tension between her father and brother. Her brother always seemed to be angry; angry with his life, angry with their father. She couldn’t remember if he had always been this way. She didn’t think so.
All her memories of Clemence when he was younger were of him smiling and always playing; with his ball, with his friends. It was only later that this furious and dark energy had started to follow him wherever he want.
Her father though.He had always been cold and distant, never warm, never loving. Looking back now she wondered how someone like her mother had ended up with someone like him.
It wasn’t that he was a terrible man, just when she thought of her mother, the warmth that flowed through her eyes when she smiled, the tenderness and care in her touch, her easy and light laughter. Runyararo could not imagine her being with a man like her father.
Now both the fury in Clemence and the coldness in her father were coming to heads more often, and she was the one left in the middle to bear the heat of it.
As she passed the dining room she saw that Aunty Abigail had already laid the knives and forks on the place mats. She hurried to the kitchen, wanting to help with the rest of the things.
It wasn’t that Aunty Abigail wasn’t capable of doing her work, but Runyararo enjoyed helping the elderly woman with some of the work. Not only did it take some of the heavier load off Aunty Abigail, but it gave Runyararo something to do during the day and someone friendly to talk to.
As she arrived in the kitchen Aunty Abigail was coming out carrying the pot of gravy and meat.
“I am so sorry, Aunty,” she said frantically. “I-,” before she could excuse herself, Aunty Abigail interrupted her.
“You, girl. You are always saying sorry. It’s fine.” She chuckled as she moved around Runyararo and walked into the dining room. “You have already helped me enough.” She set the pot in the middle of the table.
That wasn’t a lie. She had helped prepare the meal after all. But still.
“I know but- ”
“Eh eh eh. Alright, if you want to help me, come.” She chided as she moved back to the kitchen. “But stop apologising you’re giving me a headache.”
Aunty Abigail rolled her eyes and glanced at Runyararo, smiling cheekily. Runyararo laughed ruefully and followed her into the kitchen.
“Don’t be mean to me, Aunty,” she teased as she picked up a pot of rice from the stove. It was hot and she had to wrap her hands in a dish towel to keep from getting burned. “Not when you know what I have to go through tonight.”
Aunty Abigail knew that there was tension in the house, she had been around long enough to watch it grow and build over the years. She also knew how much Runyararo dreaded being in the same room with both her father and brother.
“Ahh yes. I cannot be mean can I? Not when I will be leaving you soon with those two.” She shook her head and sighed in pity. “Don’t worry my girl, you will be fine.”
Runyararo hummed in response, unconvinced.
Soon they had brought out all the pots and plates and Aunty Abigail was ready to leave. As Runyararo saw her out the house, she turned at the kitchen door and reached up to pat Runyararo’s cheek and said, “You will be fine. It’s just shouting my dear, it won’t kill you.”
“I know it won’t but it doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it,” she replied.
“Yes. Well, then just pray while they are doing their shouting business.”
Runyararo laughed, “Okay, Aunty. You better go, kwadoka. And you need to rest.”
“Alright, my dear. To’onana mangwana. Sleep well.”
As Runyararo shut the door and headed towards the dining room she heard the sound of a chair being pulled back. Her father had come. A few minutes later she heard the sound of the front door opening and closing and knew Clemence had arrived as well. She took a deep breath, and steeled herself for the meal ahead.
***
“You are being foolish!” her father yelled.
“I told you and I tell you every day. Ndine basa! What? You want me to stop working so I can come to your little meetings?”Clemence shouted back.
“Do not talk to me like that. Wanzwa? Ndokurova. You think you are too old for a beating?”
Runyararo clenched her knife and fork in her hands so tightly she felt their edges digging into her palms. She stared at her plate of rice and chicken like her life depended on it. Only five minutes into to the meal and already her brother and father were at each other’s throats.
“You think I can’t remove you from this house? Mhmm? You want to behave like you are master of this house. I will remove you from this house. Do want that?”
“Remove me if you want. I can look after myself!”
“Don’t be silly. You would die without me. You think unorarama ndisipo? Mhmm? Without my money how will you buy food? How will you move around? You think you can live without me?”
Clemence did not reply.
Runyararo glanced up to see that he was staring at his father, his jaw clenched, his eyes barely concealing the anger that brimmed behind them. He had nothing to say against his father because it was true. He wouldn’t be able to live, not comfortably or easily , without his father’s income supporting him. Neither of them could. Their father seemed to take his silence as surrender.
“Mhmm, you see? You know I am right. You better start changing your attitude. I want to see you at one of these meetings. Otherwise one of these days you will find yourself on the streets. Handisi kutamaba newe, wanzwa?”
Her father looked at Clemence daring him to raise another argument, to fight him on this. Clemence did nothing but look back with those same fire-filled eyes.
Both of them sat there staring at each other; a battle of wills, until, finally, Clemence glanced down at his plate. It was as good as admitting defeat. Their father sat back in his chair, triumphant, a tight smug smile on his face and then he returned his attention to his food. Runyararo’s tight grip on her cutlery loosened.
The atmosphere in the room was nowhere near calm, she could still feel the frenetic energy rolling of her brother and father in waves. But at least now they weren’t shouting at each other. Oh, thank you Mwari. She wasn’t sure how much more of their shouting she could have taken before she decided to leave the room. They all ate in silence until the meal was done.
Her brother and father left the table as soon as they were finished with their food. Her father was most likely going to his office and Clemence to his bedroom to brood and listen to music.
She was left alone to put away the plates and pots and wash the dirty dishes. Mwari, she prayed as she scrubbed the plates, how long will this go on? I pray for peace in this house. I’ve had enough of these arguments. Please restore this family. She sighed.
It seemed like she was always asking God for something. But she was yet to see the answer to her prayers. But she knew that He would. The Bible promised that He heard when she called out to Him. In your good time, God. I know You will answer. I will wait on You.
She was just washing the last plate when she heard movement in the direction of the lounge. Maybe it was Clemence going to watch some TV. She grabbed dish towel and dried her hands, walking towards the lounge to check. She glanced at the clock above the sink as she went. It read 9.45pm.
As she entered the lounge she saw her father shrugging on a jacket, his laptop bag was on the floor leaning against the sofa.
“Deddi?” she called out in question. Where was he going at this time of night?
He looked up. “Oh hello Runyararo,” he said, then noticing the questioning look in her eyes. “I am going out. I have a meeting with the elders.”
Oh, yes. Once in a while he would leave the house around this time for a meeting with the church elders. They were probably to discuss church matters. She thought it strange that they should meet in the night, instead of during the day after one of the church services even. But she supposed it was the only time that all of them were free.
“Oh okay. Do you want me to stay awake so I can open the door for you?” She hoped not. He usually came back quite late.
“No. No. I will use the spare keys,” he answered, picking up his bag from the floor.
“Alright,” she said, relieved. She was tired. The day had been long and her mind had been busy throughout it. She needed to sleep.
Her father unlocked the front door and left the house, she heard the key turning in the lock and his muffled footsteps as he headed to the car. She took a deep breath and let it out. It was time for bed.
