Blue skies before the rains, the building heat. Dust devils and dry leaves. Is it warm enough to swim yet? To plunge into the icy depths. At school we would have jumped in by now. Were we more inured to the cold?
Ice cream men and ice lollies. A bloody nose. Afternoon siestas. Endless watering of the garden. The jacarandas are starting. End of winter duvets. Gin and tonics with lots of ice. The return of the birds. Jasmine makes way for plumbago. Bush fires.
Sunshine, peeking through the banks of flowers. Snippets of conversation and laughter. Good friends, time to pause. Reflections in the glassware. A cockerel. The heat wafts on the breeze. Noise is not too intrusive. The swimming pool has gone.
The staff clear tables and patrol the garden. High heels on the paving. The high end. The breeze cools and caresses. Summer is here. Hollyhocks and the end of the camellias.
Enter Tembo, the boyfriend, to KFC Avondale and Tendai, the girlfriend, with co-workers.
TEMBO
Ill met by the KFC, proud Tendai.
TENDAI
What do you want now, Tembo?
Colleagues, give us a moment.
TEMBO
What's up Tendai, why are you hurting me?
All I want is a free quarter chicken and chips to satiate my appetite.
TENDAI
You have to pay for it.
TEMBO
How long is your shift?
TENDAI
Until midnight.
TEMBO
Give me the chicken and chips!!
TENDAI
Not for the whole KFC. Voetsek!
I've "known" them since they were little. Street urchins by the Lomagundi traffic lights, foraging for a living, picking up donations from drivers at the intersection. They then went on to directing traffic when there was no ZESA. Little boys stopping massive trucks and risking life and limb for measly tips.
Since those memories, I've seen the one at the Sam Nujoma and Aberdeen/Churchill lights. He is now selling windscreen wiper sponges and he smiles and waves, even though I am not buying.
Last week a tall, lanky youth came to my car window at the King George intersection with Aberdeen. I didn't recognize him until he smiled and asked where my mother and the Honda CRV were. I unfortunately couldn't buy his luxury toilet rolls and the lights changed. I realized I don't even know their names.
My sister has been living in England since 2015. When she and her husband visited Zimbabwe in 2017, my brother-in-law felt it was a culture shock, primarily with regard to our domestic help system, which he feels is ongoing colonialism. My sister feels very strongly about this now too and is of the opinion we do not pay our gardener enough. At that point in time he was earning more than I was.
I personally think that whilst domestic help is not ideal, it does at least offer employment and benefits. For instance, children of domestic helpers are sent to school and this hopefully offers them better employment options than their parents. It also means their families are kept from living in dire poverty and have an income each month.
When I look at the ever increasing number of people living on the street and begging for their existence, I believe that offering jobs should not be sniveled at.
We get a steady stream of beggars coming to our gate. Some only want money but some are happy with a bottle of water or a cup of tea and a peanut butter sandwich. It is hard to tell if some of the stories for money are genuine.
We are a bit wary of beggars that come at dusk. My friend's mother was shot dead at her gate one evening in June 2007. We therefore ask that people only come in daylight.
The number who come can sometimes feel relentless and some seem very desperate. I am angry that our government has failed these people and offers no buffer to poverty.
Fadzai and Tembo had always felt a gravitational force attracting them toward the great baobab tree, two kilometres outside the village. Its wide outstretched bare arms beckoned them. The village elders warned them though of the leopard that lived up the top in the hollow. It liked to eat small children or so they had been told.
It had been a long, hot October day and the heat sat heavily on everyone's shoulders. Fadzai and Tembo had been sent to fetch water and the buckets weighed them down. Stopping to take a rest, they suddenly were aware of the roots and solid trunk of the tree next to them. Looking up at the bright October sky they realized they were at the giant baobab.
Fadzai hastily picked up her bucket but Tembo continued to stare in awe, and then as if in a trance, walked closer to the enormous tree. On the ground was a cracked open furry seed pod and excited, Tembo pulled out the powdery white cream of tartar seeds. He sucked and chewed contentedly and offered some to his sister. Fadzai at first refused but then was persuaded as she did really like the cream of tartar too. It tasted like sherbet.
The two children were so busy enjoying the fruit that they did not notice two sets of eyes honing in on them. One had four legs, while the other slithered. The four-legged tree resident descended from above, whilst the slithering onlooker came from the roots.
Suddenly the children were aware that they were being watched. Nervously they bent down to pick up their buckets when a gruff voice said, "Don't go." And a hiss said, "Sssssstay." The children froze. Stories of witchcraft and children disappearing were not unheard of. Tembo sounding braver than he felt, straightened up and said, "Who are you?" There was a pause and then out of the tree trunk emerged a large leopard. Both children froze. The gruff voice said, "Don't be alarmed, I am one of the guardians of this magical tree." The children stood rooted to the spot and internally wondered who were the others? As if in answer to their thoughts they suddenly looked down to a python winding between their feet. "I am the other," murmured the snake, and then he said, "We mean you no harm."
Tembo, summoning up all his courage spluttered, "We need to go home." The snake had slid up to the hollow in the tree trunk. "Don't you want to see the secret world inside the tree? We've been waiting for you a very long time." Fadzai and Tembo looked at each other. They had always been very curious children. Some times in danger of their own good.
"What magical world?" they asked. "A land that can only be visited once, on one day, before it is replaced by another one," whispered the leopard. "You may enter at your own peril but must return from it before the sun sets or else you will remain in that land forever."
"What lives in these lands?" asked Fadzai. "Oh, anything from your imagination," hissed the python, "Are you ready to explore?"
I
Seed poded munondo giving way to jacaranda. Indigenous to exotic. Changes in my life reflected.
A furry friend follows me along the way.
To the right a manicured terraced veggie garden.
Lady chancellor dotted in between.
A dragonfly perches near where I write.
Pauses then takes flight.
The wintry sun lights up the air and gives a glimmer of spring.
II
Yellow African grass yellow butterflies flit through the dappled light.
A msasa in the distance changing foliage.
It will soon be glorious.
The woodland rustles and the floor is a patchwork of tawny leaves.
Who knows where this story leads?
A golden peanut butter cassia in the glade,
a butter yellow, still holding on to hope.
III
The buzz of flies and birds cry.
In a poolside garden, ladies write
of msasa trees and Zimbabwean spring.
All around the succulents brim with exotic colours,
standing out from the woodland.
Potted rose bushes, daisies, and bougainvillea,
edging the tranquil pool, too cold yet to swim in.
And still, the ladies write, each with their own take on nature and their surroundings.
A mini oasis in the dry landscape.
That glitter stone pool does invite
but more for a summertime delight.
For my friend Sarah Dowling's 21st when I was studying at UCT in South Africa, she had us dress up as our favourite cocktail. There were strawberry daiquiris, pink ladies, Captain Morgan's and I went as a cape velvet, wearing a brown velvet cape I inherited from Mrs Derby, my junior school music teacher at Convent.
On arrival, you could have a non-alcoholic or alcoholic jelly bean cocktail. I'm so glad I chose the non-alcoholic version as the alcoholic one was lethal. People were bouncing on it and it went straight to their heads.
It was a fun night and we all had a great evening. The only problem was trying to herd very drunk people home to Fuller and Smuts residences after. It was like herding cats. Several decided they were going to roll down the concrete stairs by the library and Jammie stairs. They semi did roll which must have been painful. When we finally reached the Fuller and Smuts car park, some of the group said they'd sleep on the hedges. A group of Smuts men decided they wanted to be let into Fuller, the girl's residence, and streak around the corridors. I managed to sneak in without admitting the gentlemen and left them to fend for themselves outside. Sleeping on the hedge and all.
