Prologue
Ngoni, standing by the bus stop with one hand molesting a can of beer and the other moving up and down to bring his cigarette to his lips, let his eyes dance over the body of a woman who was standing about five feet away from him. Too far, he thought, and he took another swig of his beer and let a smile creep onto his perpetually sour features. He stood there, watching her in her purple skirt and blouse, black pumps and a figure belt so tightly wound around her waist, he was almost jealous. She had bouncy curls in her hair, if he hugged her he was so sure he would smell the hair of a woman who just came out of a hair salon with a fresh relaxer and roller set hair. Her skin was catching the sun and he knew he had no choice but to keep staring. She was staring in the direction where the bus was expected to be coming from.
With the chicken buses in this country, you never truly knew if it would come, but at the very least you knew it would come from Robert Street and turn left in to Zaire Road. People will start scrambling into a lousy line and the chicken bus will clumsily come to a halt. Usually a big man with a round belly would alight and start smoking before even looking at the passengers. The bus conductor will start collecting the cash before pulling out his cigarette. The buses were what someone would imagine being in a tin can would feel like. It was cramped and you could feel every pothole the driver drove over. The buses used to carry chickens and livestock and now they were the most low cost means of travelling between cities. You heard of accidents and people dying because often they were not well maintained and the drivers were reckless. That did not stop people from riding them. Not everyone had a car or could afford the more expensive buses.
Ngoni had just started his role as a trainee electrician and he was not making near enough to spend on beer, cigarettes, rent and travelling between cities to see his friends. His priorities existed in that exact order, until the moment the lady with the purple outfit and figure belt was standing in front of him. He knew that he was about to bump cigarettes to third place. He traced the features of her side profile and intended to keep this memory etched into his brain when a slow lazy thought made itself known to him, they would be on the same bus and he had to fight for the spot next to her.
Sthe was uncomfortable, between the man behind her who she had caught staring and the figure belt threatening to end her life, she was uncomfortable and irritable. Her mother had sent word for her to come because her father was in hospital. He was diabetic and had a weak heart and he was a weak man and every time he had an episode they called her. It was not to keep her abreast of his health issues but more about alerting her that it was time to send money. It was easier to extort money from her when she was looking at them and they knew she found it harder to say no. She was mostly irritable because even though she worked for a prestigious law firm as a secretary in the capital, she never enjoyed her money like some of her friends. So when she had told Brenda yesterday that she would get her hair done before going home, Brenda had quickly grabbed the phone on her desk and made her an appointment before she could change her mind. Sthe sighed, a little too loudly and fiddled with her figure belt.
Some hours later, when the chicken bus had finally arrived and the man and his conductor had collected their cash, smoked their cigarettes and put the bags on top of the bus, they had formed lines and fought for seats on the bus. Sthe sat next to Ngoni for an hour before he tried to start a conversation with her. She was curt and dismissive. Once he heard her voice, he had wanted more. A man behind them said to Ngoni “siyayi nema Ndevere mukoma” which means “leave Ndebele women alone my brother”. Sthe was used to this, they would see her and try their luck and when she rejected their advances, they would say its because she was a “Ndevere”. Working in Harare meant that she was now desensitised to the way they replaced the ‘b’ in Ndebele with a ‘v’. How they never apologised for it or asked if she could teach them. She sighed again, heavily. Ngoni, unaware that his storytelling was beginning to work in his favour, continued talking about how the chicken buses had ended up carrying people and if they truly looked into it, humans were like livestock. Sthe finally decided that the journey was long and she could no longer deny that he’s closeness was welcome, and he’s stories were placating her unease about what lay ahead. She smiled and she noticed how he smiled back and for some odd reason they both knew the wall had fallen and he had come over to her side. He was now within her borders and he knew that this, this was going to be his home. He was ready to bend and fit her edges, to speak her tongue. He asked for her full name and he said “Sithembile” like the name was burning his tongue. Sthe and Ngoni spoke, when the other passengers tried to sleep, they continued to cross each others borders and redraw lines that could hold them both. In this land they were Ngoni and Sthe. In their lines, he watched her when she spoke. When what he said excited her, she held his arm finished off his thought like it was hers for so long and she had finally found somewhere to lay it out. They spoke until the man behind them asked to swap with someone else. When the sun wanted to rise and the moon was waning, they had decided that he would meet her parents and they would marry soon.
The Floor
Sthe was climbing the stairs when she missed her step and fell back to the bottom. She had been in crutches now for two days and already the temperature in the house had ceased to regulate itself. It was now a survival of the fittest. Miri had been the first to flee. Her best friend lived in the city, about 25 kilometres away, and she had fled there under the guise of busy days at work and she could not do the commute. Miri was a lawyer and so this deceit was welcome. Rungano on the other hand was a mechanic in their backyard and there was not much running he could do except to hide underneath a car for longer than he had to. As for Dudu, the last born, university was over and she was searching for jobs. She could not hide behind work or under a car.
Last week, sis Thando had come to see them with her daughter Lethu. With Lethu now 5 years old, running behind her, sis Thando had come with arms heavy with groceries and bags. She had gotten out of the chicken bus and walked the 3.2 miles to the homestead. Sis Thando wasn’t Sthe’s biological child. When Ngoni was alive he had been happy as he always was when he had beer. He had happily, like he always did, fell in-between the thighs of a Ndebele woman that was not Sthe and the woman had given birth to sis’ Thando eight days before Sthe gave birth. Ngoni had brought sis Thando home on the day that Miri was born, he drove to the homestead with a newly born baby and told Sthe that his fall had given him a girl as a first born. Sthe was lying on the floor to relieve the tension gathering in her pelvis when he laid the baby next to her and said “make sure you give me a boy”. Because Sthe was not a woman who succumbed to docility and seeking out a husband who she knew she had lost to wealth, she gave birth to a girl, Mirirayi. Which simply means “wait”. They called her Miri. Sthe was waiting for the husband she had met on the chicken bus to come back to her when on one of the nights that he slept in the house they had built away from the city, she fell pregnant and Rungano was born. Rungano was named “storyteller” because Sthe believed she would get her storyteller back. Sthe would sit on the floor with her children and they would play with baby Rungano. Ngoni came back to her, he was home more often and gave all his affection to Rungano. The girls knew that they were not loved like Rungano but they were happy for their fathers return. On a night that Ngoni had come home earlier than expected, he sat on the floor and asked baby Rungano to crawl to him. Rungano crawled towards his father, blubbering as he went and then before he reached his father, he sat on the floor and attempted to stand. The crawl was too slow and he kept on trying to stand and walk. He walked and he fell into his fathers arms. Ngoni shed tears as he picked up his son, tossed him into the air like he always did. On the third “that’s my boy” toss, Miri came rushing towards her father with arms high, begging to be picked up too. Ngoni looked at her briefly to say “ok ok ok” and as if something in the rhythm of their play had paused, as though the clock had missed a second, Rungano was on the floor and there was blood. And Miri was crying because some of the blood was on her shoe. Thando was crying because Miri was crying. On the way to the hospital, Ngoni driving faster than he had ever, was hit by a truck. Rungano survived a fall and an accident. Ngoni died and when Sthe heard the news, she got up and wiped Rungano’s blood from the floor. Dudu came not too long after because Sthe and Ngoni, before all the blood, had had a happy night together. When Dudu was born, Sthe gave her a Ndebele name, Duduzile, which means “to comfort”.
When sis’ Thando grew up she went to live with her mother in Bulawayo and never came to visit. She wrote letters. They knew that sis’ Thando would never come back. So when she did, they knew she would not stay. Sis’ Thando went and sat next to Dudu on the floor and began playing with her daughter, Lethu, silently. Sis’ Thando had greeted Sthe like they had only last seen each other, last Christmas. Sthe did not return her greeting but welcomed Lethu to sit on her lap and began telling Lethu that her grandfather had been a wicked man who had led her so far from her people only to leave her here, alone in a world they drew together, alone in their borders.
On the Wednesday that sis’ Thando had made it back to them, Sthe was sitting cross- legged on the veranda floor recounting, to Dudu, the evil that Ngoni had committed before his death and how he was found with his arms sprawled around the bark of a dead tree. They said he had gone through the windshield when he tried to brake and his body had been flung on to this tree on the side of the road. This is how they had found him and his blood had tainted the bark a deep deep red colour. Sis Thando left, two days later, with her luggage and nothing else. She left Lethu sleeping soundly and so Lethu was Sthe’s fifth child.
The Lava
Lethu was a happy baby, buoyant and with the fattest of cheeks. They all became responsible for her. Miri was the breadwinner of the family and Rungano spent most of his days underneath cars. He never married. He fixed peoples cars and they promised to pay him but never did. He did not seem to mind. He drove Lethu and Dudu around and they thought of him as their father. He did not speak much. He was tall and handsome and many of the ladies wanted him, but if you were not armed with an engine, he did not look at you twice.
Miri eventually stopped coming home altogether. Everyone knew that she had a boyfriend but they feigned ignorance because Miri continued sending money. Sthe sunk more into her sadness and her body began to die underneath the pressure of her bitterness. She died. Miri did not go home but sent word that all the funeral arrangements will be paid for. Rungano stopped coming up from underneath his cars. They were no more drives and Dudu carried Lethu around like she had emerged from her own uterus. Lethu became Dudu’s responsibility, and when she could no longer bear the burden of giving up on her dreams to be a journalist, she went looking for sis’ Thando.
A chicken bus took Dudu and Lethu to Bulawayo. With some money from what Miri had sent her way, She made sure Lethu was fed. She went to the address that had been on one of sis’ Thandos letters, asking Dudu to write back. She never did.
Dudu stayed with sis’ Thando and sis’ Thando did not ask Dudu what she was doing in Bulawayo. She only came into the little room that Dudu was sharing with Lethu and asked if they needed anything before she went to work. They soon became happy, the three of them. Sis’ Thando sent Dudu to computer college to learn to type and find a job as a journalist. Lethu began school and they became almost normal. Never speaking of what they had left behind. One evening when Dudu was squatting to relieve herself, she heard a knock and sis Thando went to the door and asked who it was. It was one of her boyfriends, Gondoro. the soldier with the too small face and the awkward forehead. Sis Thando said “not tonight” and he took her neck into his hands and said “who are you to deny me” and shoved her aside. Sis Thando stumbled and her hip hit the corner of their too small kitchen table crammed in the corner of the kitchen. Gondoro came every night. If he missed a night, It was because he had army business.
Sis Thando, in one of her happy moods, had told Dudu how Gondoro had stopped his car for her when she was at the bus stop waiting for a chicken bus. All the ladies in Bulawayo knew him, of his home and his car. He was a tall man. He had stern eyes and an easy smile. Sis Thando had immediately opened herself to him and he had walked in but he never joined her. He had created borders between them and he called her “my Ndevere woman” when he was with his friends. He bragged about sis’ Thando and how every man needed a Ndevere woman to keep them warm. They argued in the first days about how he said her name and her tongue. She would lay on his chest and ask him to say “Ndebele”. She would will him to be hers and to call her by what she knew. He would resist like he always did and when she pushed too hard he would get up and leave. He would punish her by not showing up for weeks.
When Dudu came to live with Sis’ Thando, he stopped coming every night but when he did, he spoke to Dudu like she was not really there. One night he came and he brought his friend with him. “The sister is yours” he was saying outside the door to his friend. Knowing that they had come for Dudu to be his friends “Ndevere woman”. Sis’ Thando asked Dudu to hide underneath the table with Lethu. Gondoro banged on the door. Sis Thando grabbed a bedsheet and laid it over the table. Gondoro banged again, this time shouting “you Ndevere woman do I not pay your rent?”. Sis’ Thando opened the door. When Gondoro entered he said “where is your Ndevere sister”. Sis Thando said Dudu had gone to the village with Lethu because Rungano was sick. Dudu did not remember what happened next but she remembers that the floor was lava and she held Lethu in her arms as her mothers blood flowed to where they were underneath the table and when it touched her knee, it burned her alive.
