UMTATA

  With three lovely children, a nice home and a crooked marriage, she undertook her married life with devout seriousness. She ignored the advice of friends to separate and sue him for divorce; instead she hoped things would change for the better.

  With his wide circle of girlfriends it was inevitable that one day Kwasi would meet somebody else, one who would coax him away from married life with Naomi. She was Zambian, much younger than him, and single. At first they kept their association discreet, but as time went by they became more brazen, and it wasn’t long before Naomi heard the brutal truth.

  18

  Coming to a Head,

  June 1977

  The situation came to a head in June 1977. Naomi was at home carrying out household chores, and her mother, who was visiting from Lundazi, was playing with her grandson in his bedroom.

  Then Naomi heard a loud knock on the door and answered it to find a young woman of about twenty standing outside. Her visitor did not start with the preliminaries, nor offer the remotest of introductions, but went straight into a tirade of aggression. Her voice was raised as she spoke to Naomi in Bemba.

  “I have been in love with Kwasi for two years. We intend to get married after he divorces you, and it is now time that you move out of this house and let us live here.”

  “It is in this house where I live with Kwasi as my husband, and our children,” Naomi explained politely.

  “But you must go now. We will look after the children; we are together.”

  “What are you talking about? Are you mad?”

  “I am not mad, and you are not wanted – just go!”

  Her voice was high, loud and threatening. The disturbance stirred the neighbours, and already a group of women were gathering in the road nearby.

  Naomi’s face showed no emotion but gracefully she beckoned the girl to come in, then stood back to allow her to enter the house.

  The girl looked straight ahead; not a glance in Naomi’s direction, only a faint smile, as though in triumph.

  It was a mistake. The first blow stunned her; the next was a clenched fist that hit her around the temple, and she was felled in an instant.

  The girl lay motionless on the floor, and an eerie silence came over the house; Naomi did not say or do anything to assist the woman on the floor. After a few minutes their was a sign of life, it came from her right leg, which somehow hung just off the floor, it started to oscillating slightly as though treading water.

  The house remained silent, with no other movement apart from that of a fly whose wings were moving so fast they could have been applauding the action.

  A few more seconds, and the silence was broken by a gasp from the girl. Naomi bent down, grabbed her by the hair, dragged her screaming to the bathroom, dunked her head in the toilet bowl and flushed.

  Hearing the commotion, Hilda picked up her grandson, laid him on the bed and ran to see what was happening. At the sight of the stricken girl she screamed, “Naomi! What have you done? Who is this girl?”

  A woman’s rage has no equal. Naomi pushed the girl’s head into the toilet, and flushed once more. The girl tried to scream, but any noise was drowned out. Hilda, afraid of what Naomi might do next, put her arms around her daughter and guided her to the bedroom.

  Soon the group of neighbour women were just outside the house. They waited until the wailing stopped, then entered to find the girl sitting on the bathroom floor, exhausted, her elbow still resting on the toilet.

  In the bedroom Naomi was crying shamelessly in her mother’s arms. It was the sound of a woman alone in the world, without husband or children, humiliated and discarded.

  The neighbours listened as her mother related the situation; it must have been interesting as they all settled on the floor. After Hilda had finished, the group had a full understanding of the situation and turned on the girl, hustling her from the house and jeering as she stumbled into the road, wet and ashamed. Kwasi wisely stayed away, and hoped things would settle before he returned to explain things in a more civilised manner.

  Hilda travelled home to Lundazi and Naomi busied herself with the children. The neighbours kept their distance and the situation eased. Kwasi returned as if nothing had happened and became more attentive to the family than he had been in years; he was forthcoming, talkative, and helped with whatever he could to show willing.

  This situation prevailed for a few weeks, until one day in August Kwasi advised Naomi that he would take the children to Ghana during October and November to visit his family. “It is two years since they last saw my family and they have not had a chance to spoil our new son, so we will travel in a couple of days.”

  Naomi agreed and the family flew to Accra and booked into a hotel. Everything seemed normal at first, so she decided to book an appointment at the hotel’s hairdressing salon.

  While she was separated from her children, Kwasi made his move and packed them into the hired car. It was over two hours later that he returned to collect Naomi from the salon. “My mother has taken the children to the homelands to visit their grandmother, so I will stay and bring them home next week. You will return to Swaziland tomorrow and I will join you with the children in two weeks from now.”

  Naomi raised her voice. “This was not the arrangement, Kwasi; I want to be with them.”

  “They have come to see my family, and my family will have more freedom with them if you are not there. Don’t worry they will be fine. I will take you to the airport as planned tomorrow.”

  “No, I will stay and they will travel with me.” Naomi was firm.

  “That is impossible. Do you want to stay here in the hotel for another week alone?”

  She glared at him for many minutes. “If they are not back in a week, I will make your life hell.”

  “I will pick you up tomorrow, say, nine?” And he walked quickly away from the hotel.

  She returned to Zambia feeling lonely, desolate and betrayed.

  Two weeks passed, and Naomi answered a knock on the door.

  “I am the facilities officer at the university.” The man handed her a letter.

  “What is this?”

  “It is to inform you that Mr Nzema has resigned,” he advised.

  “What do you mean, resigned?” Naomi was in shock.

  “Ma’am, I only do what I am told. The university had received his resignation letter and as a result you must leave the house.”

  She tried to collect her thoughts. Where was she to go? What was she to do? Her children, her beloved children, where were they?

  19

  Never Judge a Friend by their Pastimes,

  1977—80

  The week passed quickly but Naomi made little progress in finding alternative accommodation or a job. She had no money.

  On her last day in the house, she was alone and feeling totally desperate. Then she received a telephone call from an old friend.

  “Naomi, my darling, I am sorry to hear about your man Kwasi; I understand that he has flown the nest. What are your plans?”

  Naomi was in a very sombre mood. Normally a positive and bright person, the recent events had left her feeling low. She did not trust anyone in the first instance, but waited until she understood the terms of the call.

  “Hi, Pet, I am glad to hear from you. To answer your question, I have no plans at the moment; it is my last day in our university accommodation and if I do not find a place to live independently, I will accept the offer from the Ghanaian community. It is their way of apologising for Kwasi’s fun and games, but I would rather not take it; I feel they would be watching me all the time and reporting back to him.”

  “Come stay with me, my child; we have a spare room and you can stay as long as you want.”

  “Thank you, Pet, that will be nice. I really appreciate your offer, and would certainly like to take you up on it; that is, once I arrange for storage of
my belongings. I will book a taxi.”

  “Nonsense,” said Petula Partington. “Jim will come and pick you up immediately, once you are ready.”

  Petula was a good type, although Naomi thought that she had some dubious friends; she was a little older than Naomi, and more worldly, with a broader experience of life and love. Married to a white expatriate working in the mines, they lived close to the main town of Kitwe. Her house was standard, supplied by the mines as a term of contract, but with a woman’s touch and a man’s ingenuity it made an impeccable family home.

  Jim had two teenage daughters. They lived in England with their mother, but during school holidays they came to Zambia and stayed with him and Pet. The couple did not have children together, Jim having already had a vasectomy before he met his second wife. She often spent time away from him, moving in the circles of emerald smugglers and prostitutes, and the local gossip among the expatriate community was that she was more than loosely linked to both. Nevertheless, they were a welcoming couple, warm, hospitable and, in Naomi’s case, very loyal.

  Naomi continued to look for work, it was a tedious task, every day writing and phoning companies and people who thought they could help her., but life was not easy and jobs were hard to find. Although young, vibrant and intelligent, it was difficult for her to get work without experience, but she would not take no for an answer and continued to pursue any rumour of vacancies that she picked up from the media or her friends. Her money had dried up and the little she’d made from selling the marital home’s furniture was now gone.

  There was no word from Kwasi or the children, and the Ghanaian community she often visited were not saying anything about him even if they knew. Without her children close to her she felt despair and a loneliness she had never experienced before; if it had not been for her friends, life would have been unbearable.

  Then, quite out of the blue, she heard of a vacancy as a receptionist at the Mindolo Institute of Education. It was an educational foundation that had been set up by a church trust and included all aspects of training and education. She hurried to complete the application form and took it to the institute in person.

  It seemed the interview went well, as the next day she received a letter offering her the position and started work almost immediately. She was especially happy with the situation as the job provided accommodation and lunch, this would mean moving out of the Partington household and she would miss their hospitality but it would give her own space.

  The majority of students at the institute came from Zambia, but others were from far and wide, although all were associated with the church. Naomi liked mixing and talking with the students; her work was associated with organising their travel and accommodation. There were also activities that included interacting with other campuses; this gave her the opportunity to discuss her situation with the resident teachers and students in her quest to find her children.

  Her life was active during the working day but the evenings were lonely. She just hoped someone would give her the information she so desperately wanted.

  The weekends were a fun time for her and she often managed to visit her friends in Kitwe. This situation particularly suited Pet when her husband was working night shifts. Naomi continued to visit the Ghanaian community in the hope of news of her children, but the Ghanaians remained non-committal.

  When visiting Pet on one occasion, she noticed a man walking away from her friend’s house. He looked awkward, as if he was trying not to be noticed. An uncouth sort of fellow, from his appearance he looked more West African than local. Naomi was sure that he was not a hired help, and she was relieved when she found her friend safe and sound.

  “Was that Jim’s supervisor I saw? His foreman, perhaps?” Naomi was inquisitive.

  “What foreman? What man?” answered Pet.

  “The man I saw coming from the back of your house.”

  “Oh, him – no, he was just a salesman trying to sell me the green stuff” (emeralds), Pet informed her.

  Naomi wasn’t satisfied, and waited patiently. “He didn’t look Zambian, nor was he carrying anything. Are you sure you haven’t a secret boyfriend?” she joked.

  Pet giggled and looked at Naomi inquisitively. “Have you any money, Naomi?” she asked, turning their conversation on its head.

  “You know I have little money left after stoppages; why do you ask?” Naomi was confused.

  “You could make money easily,” said Pet. “We could just ask some guys around and they will give us money – obviously it will need to be whilst Jim is at work.” She chuckled, and waited for an answer.

  “And what do they expect in return?” Naomi glared at her friend.

  “Oh, come, dear Naomi,” Pet said, puckering her lips. “Just a kiss, and if it’s anything more they pay big time.”

  There was silence, and Naomi moved out to the kitchen. “What time is Jim home?” she shouted. “Because it’s time you peeled the potatoes.”

  Nothing more was said between them, either about the man or about the duties that Pet implied she’d performed for him.

  As the months went by Naomi withdrew into her shell and became an introvert. She lost her joy, and the jogging she had started at Petula’s house was a thing of the past, and her visits to her friend slowly diminished. Her mission to find her children was now an obsession, her own personal tragedy.

  During her visits to the Partington household, she met and became friends with a girl who also visited them. Her name was Veronica and she was about Naomi’s age, and worked in Kitwe as a secretary. A pretty and happy individual, she had sympathy for Naomi’s situation.

  “Perhaps tomorrow you will hear something, dear Naomi,” she would say, but as tomorrow came, and the next day, and the next, nothing!

  Naomi found comfort in the young secretary because she too had a problem, and it was reassuring for Naomi to know that other people also had their cross to bear, sometimes much worse than her own.

  Veronica came from the west of Zambia and a tribe called the Lozi. She was bright at school and learned quickly, and was soon promoted from secondary school to Pitman’s Secretarial College, and into the big towns where she worked for the Highways Department in local government. Her education had taken place in a small but select school; it was outback country and life was still traditional there. Family tradition in Africa meant strict morals, honesty, integrity and a basic living.

  So coming to town, life was a big surprise for her; she rode in large cars, attended noisy discos, was continually approached by boys, and could never make ends meet where money was concerned. Life in the big mining towns was different than in her village; it was faster, more expensive, and money needed to be budgeted. She found it difficult to do this at first but was learning fast.

  However, her life became even more complicated when the headman of her village arranged her marriage to an older local man.

  This situation was unexpected; she had progressed from village tradition and was enjoying the new ways of the city and its people. But the village was not the same: it upheld its old traditions and her parents shared those beliefs. They approved of the man who had been proposed and influenced Veronica to comply with their tribal principles, and she finally succumbed.

  They were married in the traditional way in the village. Veronica’s husband, John Mivila, was a successful businessman who originated from the village, and made his money from retail. At first they lived in her flat in town, with him travelling back to the village on business, but after a time he tried to persuade Veronica to return with him and live there permanently. It was after a few months of playing a part-time ‘custom wife’ that Veronica brought things to a head.

  “John, it is time we were married properly,” she said.

  “Sure, Veronica, we are married,” he assured her.

  “No, John, I want a BOMA wedding – you know, official.”

 
There was silence and John walked towards the door, explaining he had a business appointment.

  “Another thing,” she cried after him. “If we are married then we live together, not just on a Monday, Tuesday and sometimes Saturday.”

  The door slammed, and Veronica was alone again.

  A week later she received a note from John:

  My dearest Veronica,

  I am writing to tell you how much I love you.

  My feelings are so intense I want you to move into my home and we can live as a family with my first wife and two children. I have told her we will live together and she is happy with this situation.

  On Saturday we will go to the Nkana cinema, then return home for supper and the family can discuss the situation.

  Looking forward to seeing you.

  Yours forever,

  John

  Veronica did not wait for Saturday, but packed her bags and jumped on the first bus west to stay with her brother. She cried the whole way, and after some serious discussions with the rest of her family they decided that she should return with her brother and confront her husband.

  It was exactly two weeks later that she, her brother and the village headman met in the community hut and the situation was resolved. Veronica and John would be divorced in due course, but in the meantime she would start a new life in the town of Kitwe.

  20

  A Time to Reflect

  Naomi cried after Veronica explained the impossible conflict between tradition and the new, faster life of the twentieth century. It seemed from her experience that the African man would utilise the traditional African life to suit his male ego, without regarding the woman’s wishes.