Chapter 2: Dear Diary
I have the house all to myself today. Mhamha went to Zambia, she’s not back yet, but I’m not worried. The other ladies she goes with always come back earlier than she does, she stays behind a day or 2 most times because she says she pays more attention to prices than all the others.
For as long as I can remember, mhamha has always been the parent I went to if I wanted money for a book, pen or school fees. For starters, she seems to care more, and she almost always makes a plan to get money. Baba does not have as much money as mhama, he sometimes does not go to work for a whole month. Mhama says he is lazy because all he does is eat and sleep. I hope I get married to a rich and hardworking man…
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I close the diary quickly and slide it under the bed when I hear my husband’s car parking outside. I am not ready to share it with him. I walk to the door. Dylan finds me waiting for him there, he looks tired. I give him a kiss and step aside to let him enter.
‘You look awful Dee, long day?’ is my greeting. He looks at me and I detect a small smile playing on his lips, ‘The audits are starting next week, I feel like I’ve been run over by a tractor. I am taking a shower and going straight to bed. I ate at the office.’
I have had enough of these evening to know that he needs his space, I go run him his bath and then drag myself to the kitchen, sitting alone to my dinner. My thoughts go back to the diary entry…I remember that day. I had to go and eat at Mai Ganje’s house. Mum had always made sure I ate at her friends’ house whenever she was not around.
I got at Mai Ganje’s and only Garikai was there. I liked Garikai, he was older and cool. He was watching a movie when I got in. I got my food from the warmer and sat with him, trying to tear his attention away from the movie. I do not recall the conversation I had with him before he started asking if I had a boyfriend. I shyly replied no, to which he haughtily said, ‘I like you, but you look too young, you wouldn’t be able to keep up.’ I did not reply, for lack of words and also because it sounded like he was speaking to himself.
His hand found it’s way to my thigh, my voice was caught up in my throat. ‘Act like a grown up, act like a grown up’, I repeatedly told myself as I closed my eyes. I must have stilled so much I looked like a statue, Garikai removed his hand abruptly, spat something about toddlers and got up, leaving me with a cold thigh, a heart that wouldn’t beat, a bruised ego and a resolve to prove myself.
I would come back. I finished the rest of my meal staring blankly at the movie, I was thinking of mother and how she always seemed confident around men. I would tell her about Garikai, mhama would know how I ought to act.
The next day was a Sunday, baba had not come back home since Friday. I woke early to prepare for church, Mai Ganje always insisted I join them for church on Sundays. On this particular Sunday I chose my dress carefully, settling on a dress that had now become too short for my height, Garikai would be at church. I walked to Mai Ganje’s house…
I danced to her house, thinking of how Garikai would see me and be shocked by how grown up and beautiful I looked. Mai Ganje was outside, removing her laundry from the bushes that she had been drying it on.
‘Ah Tanyaradzwa, isn’t that dress too short for you? You are a big girl now, you should not be exposing your legs like that, where do you want the men at church to look?, she was shouting this, as if I was a kilometer away.
‘I do not have any more clean clothes amai Garikai’, I said this looking down, writing my initial in the dirt with my big toe because it was either that or eating the belts on my dress. “Your mother needs to get more organized, we all know what she stays behind in Zambia for, the least she can do is teach you how to take care of yourself…”
Mai Ganje muttered under her breathe as she went back inside. I kept standing at the door, not knowing what to do. 2 minute later she came out, a piece of cloth in her hand, tie this around your waist, we are late. I caught the cloth just as it was about to fall because she threw it at me.
Again, I remained rooted to the ground, shocked. A cloth, one with small stick figured woman grinding seeds and fetching water, I was going to church with a cloth around my waist. “Tanya, we are late!” She shouted from 20 steps ahead, I wanted to cry as I slowly tied the semblance of dignity over my short dress.
