A Little Mess

By: Max Sledge
(For Major)

The room was so full of smoke that I could barely see to the other side of the hut. Round in shape and grey, the hut was made of mud. If you wanted to rub your cheek up against the walls, you could, they were that smooth. All of the native huts I had seen in Zimbabwe since arriving from the states were made this way. They had roofs made of grass and shaped into a cone. I made my way through the haze of smoke and faces moving my feet to a rhythmic beat. Every time the sound of the drums changed I shouted out with everyone else the lyrics I had just picked up, “Mambo Jesu! Mambo Jesu!” As I circled the fire shuffling my feet to the beat of the bongo drums, a noticeably pregnant woman in front of me began to blow a whistle as she leapt into the air. Behind me, my new friend Smart shook a tambourine in rhythm with the song. My heart was racing and I began to sweat. This was at least the tenth song we had sung, and every song required dancing. The muscles in my cheek were beginning to burn because smiling wasn’t a hard thing for me to do. The cooking fire was located in the middle of the room and the flames illuminated twelve friendly faces. I wasn’t sure what time it was. All I knew was that the sun had gone down and it wasn’t going to come up again for a while. I glanced up and saw the roof made of reeds stained black.
“Do you dance like tiss in America?” Smart screamed into my ear over the pandemonium that surrounded us.
“We don’t, and I wish we did!” I screamed back at Smart as we danced around the fire. The drum beat changed again and everyone jumped into the air and belted out the lyrics. Smart was twenty-eight years old, six years older than I. He was tall and thin, a body type resembling mine. Smart was always smiling. The black color of his skin amplified the whiteness of his teeth. He was wearing a bright white collared dress shirt and tan khaki pants that were too big for him and blue sandals. Finally, the song ended and nine of the twelve that had been dancing and singing with me in Smart’s hut left. As each one filed out I cupped my hands and clapped them together to show my respect and they did the same for me. The strange thing was, though, that each time I showed respect to a man they laughed as they exited the hut. After all the guests left only three people remained. Smart’s wife was busy preparing food in a large iron pot that hung over the fire while Smart’s young daughter, named Mess, sat on the floor. I sat down next to Smart in a chair close to the door as we waited for dinner. I was still trying to figure out why only the men laughed at me. Smart cupped his hands together as I had done for the guests and his eyes lit up.
“I saw, you did it well!” Smart said. Earlier in the day while we ate guava from his tree Smart had taught me the proper way to formally greet his neighbors that would be coming over to dance and sing.
“Yeah Smart, but why did the men laugh when I did it to them?” I asked.
“They laugh? I did not see. Show me how you did da greeting.” Smart said. I cupped my hands as I had been taught one hand at an angle and the other pointing straight away from me and clapped them together.
“Oh no!” Smart said trying not to laugh. “You gave da men da women greeting!” Smart laughed out loud and then explained that for the men both hands were cupped but pointed straight out in front of you not at an angle. I had to laugh and Smart patted me on the back. I could see that Smart’s wife was ready to serve the food, and because I had seen what had been put into the pot earlier that day I prepared my stomach.
“So are you ready to eat? It tiss good food, my wife, good cook, you see?” Smart chimed.
“Sure, lets do this!” I said trying to overcompensate for my nervousness.
Smart laughed and then gave me a high-five. I was dreading the very thought of eating Tom. Tom was the name of the goat I had gotten to know earlier that day upon arriving at Smart’s house. I had given Tom some carrots to eat. That was just before Smart’s wife pulled out a machete and murdered Tom in front of me, dismembered him and shoved him in a large iron pot. Apparently, Smart had Tom killed in my honor. I did feel extremely honored but this was going to be the second time that day I had eaten goat.
“Sudsa for you Mr. Brain.” Said Smart with a wide smile.
My name was Brian but earlier that day when Smart had introduced me to his family, his young daughter, named Mess, had pronounced my name Brain instead of Brian. Smart refused to let this humorous occurrence go unnoticed and, consequently, had been calling me Mr. Brain the whole of the afternoon. Mess was lying on a piece of cardboard clutching her stomach when I met her. In a nonchalant way Smart had told me that she was suffering from malaria.
“Pile it high and deep please,” I told Smart. With a wide smile Smart’s wife put a
massive globule of corn maze (sudsa) onto my plate. Next came Tom, rounding out the meal from hell. The sudsa I could eat because it really didn’t taste like anything but Tom was a different story. As I lifted a piece of Tom to my mouth I noticed fur sticking out of the meat. “Are you kidding me?” I thought. As Tom entered my mouth, little Mess stood up from her seat and promptly vomited all over my lap. The room was silent. I was in complete shock. I had Tom in my mouth as well as Tom on my lap. Mess looked at me as if to say “Shit happens”. Smart was sitting next to me when the event occurred and was speechless for five seconds. The first white person who had ever entered Smart’s house had been vomited on by one of his own children. For Smart, the embarrassment must have been tremendous.
“Ooh! I’m so sorry, so sorry, so sorry!” Smart said as he yanked Mess out of the way and began cleaning up the vomit that was beginning to sink into my pants.
“It’s okay, It’s okay, don’t worry about it. Things happen Smart and she is sick. It’s not her fault.” I replied with such a light-hearted attitude that Smart calmed down a bit. Now at least I had an excuse for not finishing my meal. Smart looked at my vomit soaked jeans and offered me an alternative. Taking me to his sleeping hut, separate and located adjacent to the kitchen hut, he pulled out from underneath his bed what must have been his prized possession.
“My father gave it to me” said Smart with pride.
To my utter disbelief Smart handed me the 1990 (bright and may I add flagrantly shiny and gold colored) M.C. Hammer parachute pants.
“Thank you Smart,” I said. From the way he was looking at me I could tell that he wanted me to try them on to see how they fit. I pulled my vomitouse jeans off which Smart took and handed to his wife. As I slid my legs into the gold lame' I told myself not to worry, I only had to survive twelve more hours in the bush. The next day a vehicle would come and take me back to the hospital. The hospital had running water, bathrooms and food you never made friends with. My feet squeezed through the small elastic opening, which then immediately sucked to my ankle. The pants were so baggy that I could have used just one of the legs as an all-weather sleeping bag. Smart was gleaming. I was wearing his pants and he couldn’t have been more proud.
“Mr. Brain. I wonda. Will you come wit me to da township. Mess, you see? She is seek. I need to get her medicines.” Smart said this with such longing in his voice that if I were to refuse his offer, his feelings would undoubtedly be crushed.
“Of course I’ll go. How far is the township?” I said. Smart immediately let his perfect white teeth show and then gave me another high-five followed by a short laugh. He explained that the township was only four kilometers away and we would be there and back in forty-five minutes. The happiness that enveloped me while dancing was now all gone, and the fear of the unknown took hold. “You will be okay man.” I kept telling myself that as I stepped out of the hut and into the darkness. As I looked back, Mess was waving at me and smiling. I had hoped that she would be feeling better and I was glad that she was up and walking.
As we made our way through Smart’s cornfield I began to take in my surroundings. The air was cold and crisp. I looked up at the wide sky and saw the Milky Way. A white stripe traveled across the sky, giving us just enough light to walk. Little lights from fires of neighboring huts were spread out every couple of kilometers or so. “I guess this is Zimbabwe’s version of the suburbs.” I thought. Earlier that day, upon arriving at Smart’s house, I remembered the landscape consisting of low-lying brown brush and hilly shrub-land spanning wide in every direction. Now the landscape was masked by darkness. There were barely any sounds as we walked, only silence. The only thing breaking the silence was the sound of my pants rubbing together while we walked. With each stride I took, a sound that resembled quickly pulling up the zipper on a jacket echoed through the countryside, “zip-zip zip-zip”. After walking along the small path that led away from Smart’s house we arrived at the main road that went to the township. The road was dirt and in complete disrepair. Oxen-drawn carts were the main vehicles that traveled it. Consequently, deep grooves had developed in the road. This made walking by starlight some sort of sick game of chance. Your ankles were always one misstep away from breaking. “Zip-zip, zip-zip”, I followed closely behind Smart who navigated his way through the darkness like he was walking in the noonday sun. Suddenly, I saw some figures start to appear coming toward us in the opposite direction.
“Maswerasay,” Said Smart.
“Da swera maswera wo” the group responded in unison. I glanced up and saw a woman in the group carrying a large bucket of water containing at least five gallons resting on her head. They all stared at me as if I was a sideshow in the circus. I couldn’t blame them; seeing a white person in the bush is rare. Not only had they just seen a white person, they had seen a white person wearing shiny gold pants walking down their road in the middle of the night. As the group passed I heard the classic snickering and laughter that came with each sighting of my skin. But the more I thought about my present condition the more I began to worry. Sure, I had been into the township before, but that was during the day and I hadn’t been with just one person either. I had been with a group of people who not only knew the language but also could protect me if anything went wrong. Smart was a sweet guy who meant no harm but I didn’t feel he could protect me in this situation. With that thought, I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head in an attempt to hide my melanin lacking face. I could see the lights from the township growing brighter but I knew we still had a good ten minutes of walking to go. Smart began to engage me in conversation. He asked many questions. Most consisted of whether or not people in America had goats (and other farm animals), what type of cars we drove, if I had a girlfriend and if not, would I be interested in a Zimbabwean girl for a wife. Then Smart grew silent as if he was collecting his thoughts.
“Will you write to me when you get back to da States Mr. Brain?”
“Sure Smart what do you want me to say?” I replied.
“Tell me about da weather, what yo doing, life in America. When you come back here to see me….” Smart paused, thought, and then started again. “I want to make it here, but it tiss so hard for me, if you wrote it would help me keep up good spirits.” Smart smiled. We continued to talk and then Smart asked me one last question.
“I wonda, if you could sponsor me to come back wit you to America?” Smart said. I knew that this question was inevitable and I had been presented with this request from different people numerous times. Every time it broke my heart but I responded to the question in the way that I had been taught.
“Talk to Sister Kathy, Smart.” I said. As soon as the words Sister and Kathy rolled off my tongue Smart grew silent. Shortly after, he changed the subject.
Sister Kathy was the name of the American nurse who ran the hospital in the neighboring town. I had come two months earlier to help Kathy by volunteering in the hospital for the summer. Kathy had suggested that I stay one night in the community in order for me to experience “true Zimbabwean lifestyle.” Smart was an elder in one of the house churches in the rural area and had agreed to let me stay with him. The hospital that Kathy ran was the only one that existed for hundreds of kilometers. Having worked in the community for over twenty years, she commanded absolute respect from everyone. Sister Kathy was not with me now and I would have felt a lot better had she been. The story that Sister Kathy had told me a few nights ago at the hospital flashed into my mind and my mind drifted to that night. Smart began discussing his love for Snickers bars. As I was sitting across from Kathy at the dinner table she began to explain to me her latest near death experience. It had happened two years ago during election season. The ruling government party soldiers had been touring the rural areas in attempt to intimidate the locals. They did this by beating up the men and raping the women. Six men armed with guns had taken a young girl attending Kathy’s bible study. They took her to the township where they held her hostage. Hearing that this had happened, Kathy hopped into her Land Rover and drove to the township where the young girl was being held prisoner. Kathy walked into the den of iniquity and grabbed the girl by the hand. The soldiers watched speechless and in shock as Kathy led her to the Land Rover. Once the girl was inside she sped away and hid the girl in an undisclosed location. She then returned to the hospital to wait for the retaliation that would inevitably come. Two days later three men stumbled onto the hospital compound late at night. They were not there to harm Sister; they just wanted to tell her what had happened. Apparently, the three men had been hitchhiking on the road that ran through the township. By chance, the soldiers responsible for kidnapping the girl picked up the three men. Upon entering the vehicle the soldiers began to brag about their plans. They were on the way the hospital to kill Sister Kathy. Humiliated by Kathy two days earlier, they were looking for revenge and their guns were loaded. But, two kilometers from the hospital the vehicle lost control and flew off the road. The vehicle ended up upside down in a large ditch. After the dust had cleared the three hitchhikers realized that they were the only survivors of the crash. All six soldiers had died instantly. The men noticed that they were only a few kilometers from the hospital. Because they were relatively unscathed, they decided to walk to the hospital to tell Kathy what had happened. I knew I wasn’t Kathy and that if I had tried to rescue that girl I would have been murdered.

The township was only one hundred meters away. I could hear the sound of Hip Hop music playing at the bar. My heart began to pound and my stride quickened. “ Zip-zip, Zip-zip, Here we go.” I thought. I tried to keep my profile as low as possible. Smart and I passed under the first electric light mounted at the outskirts of the township. My shiny pants reflected the unnatural light like a solar panel. I looked to my left. Around fifty people were hanging out in and around the bar, laughing and smiling. Cock-fighting was taking place to the bar’s right. I don’t know if it was because my white face glanced in their direction or the Hammer pants, but everyone became alerted to my presence. The laughing grew silent, the music stopped, everyone stopped and turned in my direction. Smart smiled and waved as my eyes moved from the bar to the ground.
“Smart! Haukotsire nhasi usiku, nokuti urikugara nezuva!” a voice shouted from the bar.
Instantly the entire group busted out in hilarious laughter. As we passed the circus, I asked what had been said.
“They say, I will no sleep tonight,” Smart said. His voice shifted revealing his embarrassment. “That’s not very funny,” I thought as we continued to walk. We were heading toward one of the many shops lining the street. Each shop consisted of a few pieces of plywood haphazardly nailed together. Again I asked Smart what was so funny.
“ I will no sleep because… I’m staying wit da sun.”
He said this while glancing at the Hammer pants. I could see the shame in his eyes.
“Oh, they are making fun of your pants Smart? Well, I like them, yeah, they’re pretty sweet.” As I said this, I smiled. My approval lifted Smart’s spirits instantly and he put one arm around me. As we entered the shop linked at the hip, the two men behind the counter shielded their eyes from the glare of the pants. I took my hood off knowing my cover had been blown. Smart began to speak in Shona to the shopkeepers. I kept my eye on the bar scene. Six males had broken off from the main group and were stumbling toward the shop. For some reason I thought that if I pulled my hood back over my head it would make me more intimidating, so that is what I did. The six men stopped and stood outside the shop. Smart purchased the medicine for Mess and we turned to walk toward the exit. I began to strut like Snoop Dog in a music video, but to no avail. I knew that a confrontation was imminent. As we exited the shop all six men surrounded us.
“Ummm… Hullo.” Smart said. Silence. I could smell alcohol. Five out of the six guys were holding beer bottles like tomahawks. Smart was the only person in the group smiling. “This is it.” I thought, “This is how I am going to die. How embarrassing!” I frantically tried to think of a way to get away. I realized that I didn’t have anything to bribe them with. My wallet was in my jeans and my digital camera was back at Smart’s house. Smart began to talk furiously in Shona. One of the men, apparently the ringleader, cut him off abruptly. The ringleader was short and muscular. He was wearing a button down flannel shirt and what looked to me like black dress pants rolled up to his knee. As he spoke I noticed his lack of dental hygiene. His teeth were scarce in the front. The ones that were there were either dead or dying, brown, black and jagged. As I was waiting to die I also noticed that two of the other men were wearing identical jackets. Tattered and in disrepair they contained a crest in the upper right hand corner. Of the six men who had surrounded us, each one lacked a different article of clothing. One missing a shirt, one missing shoes and there was a guy who was missing pants as well. He was wearing nothing but white jockey-style underwear, a purple vest and only one Birkenstock sandal.
“Who ah you sa?” The ringleader spoke to me with disdain in his voice. I explained to him that my name was Brian and that I was staying with Smart for the night. I then asked him who he was. He told me that his name was Vivian. My grandmother’s name had been Vivian and as the ringleader continued I tried to keep a straight face. Vivian began to ask numerous questions about my connection with the hospital and Sister Kathy. I told him that I had been working in the hospital and that I was Sister’s friend. After the questions were over Vivian stumbled toward me getting two inches from my face.
“You are wit Sista, huh? You tink yo special? You will suffa tonight Brian.” He smelled so bad I had to hold my breath while he spoke. Vivian snapped his fingers and walked past me. Two of Vivian’s thugs took me by the arms and pulled me out of the light-filled street. We followed Vivian into the darkness. Smart followed right behind me with two escorts on either side of him. The guy without pants followed Smart, flanking our drunken parade. I looked down and noticed that one of the thugs who grabbed my arm wasn’t wearing shoes. His feet were calloused and dirty. We had been walking for ten minutes and I had lost all sense of direction. Turning down a small path flanked on either side by cotton plants, we began to make our way up to a group of huts. All the men were speaking in Shona but Smart was silent. As we reached one of the huts, a woman came out to meet us. Shocked at the spectacle before her she began arguing with Vivian. The fight did not last long. As soon as Vivian raised his voice she relented. The men threw Smart and me into the kitchen hut and shut the door. The hut was much like Smart’s, circular, with a grass roof in the shape of a cone. In the middle of the hut lay the fire pit. Red coals gave dim light to the room.
“Mr. Brain.” Smart whispered.
“Yes Smart.” I replied.
“What you tink? We are dead?” Smart said.
“I don’t know, Vivian doesn’t seem to like me.” I replied. I asked Smart why Vivian hated Sister Kathy. As Smart was about to reply the kitchen door flew open. The two men with matching jackets stepped into the room. Each held a large sharp stick. They walked over to us and told us to sit, back to back. We immediately complied. Using rope they tied us tightly together. Then they placed wood in the fire pit. After lighting the fire they stumbled out of the hut, still drunk. Smart and I were positioned one meter away from the fire close to the middle of the room. I was facing the door and Smart was facing the wall. Smart leaned back and whispered into my ear.
“Vivian, everyone knows him in the areas. Everyone is scared of him. He is a nonga.” I had heard the word nonga before, but I couldn’t remember what it meant in English.
“What is a nonga?” leaning back I whispered into Smart’s ear. Smart didn’t have time to reply. The door flew open for a second time. The meaning of the word nonga was revealed. Vivian slowly stepped into the hut; his garb revealing his occupation. He was shirtless with what looked like necklaces of beef jerky hanging from his neck. On his ankle and wrist he wore beads and charms. His face was painted blue and white with blue highlighting his eyebrows. Consequently, these eyebrow highlights made him look like he was in a constant state of surprise. A grass skirt hung from his hips. Vivian was a witchdoctor. As he walked toward me a disturbing reality became clear. Vivian’s grass skirt was not woven together tightly. As a result his genitalia became visible each time he took a stride making him a walking peep show. Vivian bent down to get to my level.
“Before I kill you, Brian, an yo friend Smart” Smart leaned over smiling nervously, “I’m going to curse everything dat you love.” Vivian said this with hatred in his voice. Fear began to engulf me now that death was certain. Smart leaned back and began to whisper apology after apology into my ear. Vivian got up and left the hut. He returned quickly bringing into the room assorted farm animals. Goats, chickens, ducks and a few guinea fowl began to move around me. One of the goats began to nibble at my hair. Vivian placed a large wooden bowl next to my feet. Next he pulled out a photograph that was discolored and looked as if it had been ripped and then taped back together numerous times. He gingerly took the picture and taped it to my sweatshirt in the region of my chest. I looked down and saw what I presumed to be a Zimbabwean man in military uniform staring up at me holding a machine gun. As a chicken walked past my foot, Vivian grabbed it and snapped its neck. He then threw the carcass into the bowl. A large handful of red powder entered the bowl, second. Vivian harnessed a goat, took it by the utter and squirted milk into the bowl completing the recipe. Standing up he began to chant in Shona, and mix the three ingredients vigorously, kneading them with his long dirty fingernails. At this time Smart leaned back and began translating his chants and incantations to me. Vivian was repeating the same thing over and over; the phrase “May they suffer.” I knew that I only had a few more seconds of life. The situation was hopeless and I began to pray that God would deliver me. My stomach was sick with anxiety. Vivian began to throw various powders and dead plants into the fire. This created a thick smoke masking my vision. Smart and I began to cough and our eyes watered. Vivian continued to circle us as his incantation kept going. Changing the direction of his stride Vivian started to pace back and forth in front of me, his grass skirt periodically grazed my face. I began to glare into the flames and became fascinated by the colors of the fire. I heard Smart begin to laugh behind me. “What is going on?” I thought. I was shocked that Smart could be laughing.
“What are you laughing at?” I asked Smart in a condescending tone.
“I’m sorry Mr. Brain” Smart was fighting through the tears he was laughing so hard.
“It’s just…(laughter) da duck…(laughter) he is chasing da reflection”
Smart was barely able to finish the sentence before he started convulsing with joy. I glanced over at the duck that Smart was speaking about. It was running around the hut chasing something. It kept biting the floor and running into the wall. Soon I realized what was taking place. My pants were reflecting the light of the fire. Little concentrated beams of light were scattered on the floor and walls of the hut. The light of the fire had turned my pants into a disco ball. Every time I moved my legs the beams of light would also move. The duck was chasing one of the beams of light reflecting off of my pants. I couldn’t help but begin to laugh. Soon I was manipulating the beam of light the duck was chasing by moving my legs. I made the duck go wherever I wanted. Twice I made the duck run into the wall of the hut. Smart and I were laughing hysterically. “Wait” I thought. “This isn’t right. I shouldn’t be feeling so good.” Then the smoke lifted from my mind. Smart and I were completely high. Vivian’s magical powders that were thrown into the fire earlier had produced huge amounts of mind-expanding smoke. I leaned back and told Smart that we were on drugs. Smart laughed. While telling Smart to stop laughing I couldn’t help but laugh myself. Suddenly, Vivian’s chant changed. Smart leaned back and interpreted Vivian’s new curse for me.
“Your blood will spill, like a mighty river, before da sun rises.” Smart said. As Vivian cursed me he would periodically dip his hand into the wooden bowl he had set beside me earlier. Shortly after he would cock back his hand and slap my face. Soon both of my cheeks were red; covered with feathers, and stunk like raw chicken.
“I curse yo goats, and yo chickens an yo cattle. May rain never fall on yo fields. May yo wife’s breast never produce milk an yo children starve.” Smart chuckled as he continued the interpretation. He knew that I did not have chickens, goats, fields, a wife, or children. I guess that didn’t matter because Vivian still slapped me.
“…and I curse you Brian, friend of Kathy, may all that you love perish in infinite darkness.” Vivian stopped speaking then slapped me for the last time. Soon after Smart stopped translating. Vivian grabbed a goat. He positioned the goat’s neck directly in front of my face. Then he pulled out a long machete. I knew what was coming. The goat’s jugular vein was aimed to spray its contents all over me. This was going to be the third time in one day that I had had goat. Panicking, I looked around. All I saw was the duck chasing the beam. My eyes got wide. Vivian drew back the machete. Quickly, I positioned my legs so that a large beam of light that the duck had been chasing reflected off my pants and passed through Vivian’s grass skirt coming to rest on his testicles. The duck followed the beam and locked on to the condensed light like a ballistic missile. As the machete came down, the duck made contact with Vivian’s genitalia. Immediately, the machete dropped to the ground. Vivian’s jaw dropped and a lone tear trickled out of one eye. He then let out a scream so high pitched that it damaged my cochlea. The duck didn’t let go. It had finally caught the beam. Vivian turned and ran out of the hut still squealing. The duck dangled in between his legs and as he ran it bounced back and forth between his inner thighs. Regaining my senses, my hands strained for the machete. It had come to rest one half meter from my left side. Using all my strength I reached it. Moments later I had cut the ropes and both Smart and I had gained freedom. We exploded out of the hut going full speed and laughing. Turning to the left I saw Vivian killing the duck. To my right Vivian’s thugs were waking from their drunken stupor. Seeing the thugs reminded us of our danger. The joyful mood changed. Smart grabbed my arm. Moments later we were running full speed through a cornfield.
“He hates you Mr. Brain. He thinks Sister killed his brother.” Smart panted.
“What?” I replied. We stopped, coming to rest behind a log. Smart explained to me that Vivian’s brother had been killed in an automobile accident two years ago.
“Was Vivian’s brother a soldier?” I asked while I peeled the discolored picture off of my chest.
“Yes.” Smart said.
“Had Vivian’s brother taken a young girl hostage?” I asked while starring at the picture with disdain.
“How you know Mr. Brain?” Smart sounded surprised.
“I’ve heard this story before.” I replied. Smart continued to tell me about the connection. Vivian was in the army with his brother. He had participated in the kidnapping of the young girl that went to Kathy’s bible study. Vivian believed that Sister Kathy had put a curse on his brother the night he died. He hated and feared Sister. I tucked the picture into the pocket of my sweatshirt.
Voices began to close in on us. Vivian and his thugs had spread out and were moving through the field and approaching rapidly. Smart said that a main road was one hundred meters to the left of us. We began to run toward the road. “Zip-zip, zip-zip.” My pants refused to be silent. Fifty meters into the run Smart stopped us. We kneeled low.
“Yo pants, they are causing a… disturbance. They can hear you. They are following.” Smart looked distressed. His eyes darted back and forth to look behind him.
“What should I do?” I replied. Smart indicated that I needed to take my pants off. I agreed and the Hammer pants came off. I was now naked from the waist down. My underwear were back at Smart’s house covered with vomit. I tucked my Hammer pants underneath my arm. We got up cautiously, and then we ran. We hadn’t lost Vivian. The six men were right behind us. Suddenly as we ran, Smart disappeared in front of me. Moments later my foot hit an embankment and I fell. I found myself on top of Smart in the middle of a dirt road. Hearing a low rumble coming from my left side I knew that a large vehicle was approaching quickly. I looked to my left but all I could see was a blinding white light. Instinct took over and I covered myself with protection. That protection happened to be my pants. I lifted the shiny gold lame' up to the light and Smart and I each ducked under a pant leg, we cowered as our bodies froze in the middle of the road. Miraculously, the light vanished and I felt the wind hit my face as the vehicle barely missed me. Shortly after, the sound of bending metal and screaming echoed behind me. I turned around to face the place we had exited the field. A large rusty bus with no passengers was on the edge of the cornfield resting on the embankment that had made us stumble. The bus had lost its left front tire and smoke rose from its hood. It still had its lights on and illuminated six motionless bodies scattered out in front of it. Vivian was underneath the right front tire. His grass skirt was covered with blood. The guy without pants and one sandal had been decapitated. Moments later the driver exited the bus. His hands rubbed his eyes furiously as he knelt low to regain his balance. Frustration and anger filled his voice as he repeated the same line over and over in Shona.
“What’s he saying Smart?” I asked.
“My eyes, my eyes.” Smart replied. Silence. Smart grabbed my pants and kissed them. I slid both of my legs into the shiny gold lame' with pride. I pulled the picture out of my sweatshirt pocket and walked over to Vivian’s lifeless body. I released the picture and watched it fall to Vivian’s side. Smart put his arm around me and smiled. Slowly we made our way down the dirt road. We were linked together as we walked. Smart had decided not to wait for the police. We walked back to Smart’s house. The little lights of fires from neighboring huts glittered around us as we paced in unison down the road. As we made our way up the small path to the familiar group of huts we saw Mess outside. She was lying on a cardboard mat asleep next to the fire. We gently woke her. Smart gave Mess her medicine. I watched as Smart hugged his daughter and kissed her goodnight. Smart’s wife took Mess inside to sleep. It was late and the sun would be coming up soon. Smart invited me to his kitchen for some food. We sat around the fire eating sudsa and Tom.
“Smart, let me give you back your pants.” I said.
“No…Mr. Brain. You can keep. You need them mo than me.” Smart chuckled and smiled. I smiled back and shook my head. I thanked Smart for his generous gift.
“Kathy will never believe me.” I thought. Eventually sleep overtook us. The sun rose and upon waking I peeled my face off of the cold mud kitchen floor. I walked outside and saw that the Land Rover from the hospital had arrived to take me. Smart turned to look at me.
“Thank you for coming Mr. Brain,” Smart showed me his perfect teeth for the last time.
“Thank you for letting me stay with you, Smart.” I replied. Suddenly Smart’s eyes got wide, he rummaged into his pockets and pulled out a pencil. Shortly after he ran over to the cardboard mat that Mess was laying on the night before and pulled a corner of it off. He then scribbled his address on the piece of cardboard and handed it to me.
“Remember” he said.
Upon entering the vehicle Kathy turned around from the driver’s seat.
“How did it go?” She said. As we drove away the dust from the Land Rover cleared. I saw Mess, waving from the kitchen door.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 06.11.2009

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