And this is just beginning of it. Five, six months and I'm out of here if there is no rent to pay. And no food to waste money on. In the dark tailwinds, the footsteps of that news-animal is falling quiet. There's time to pick them termites.
It has been hard. Everything. Even Tim – his accent and cockney thing, you can't hear anything. And when you hear it don't make sense and you have to make your anus tight and listen up to figure things out. Even small things. Like when, after long day, he say, 'I'm cream-crackered.' Or, 'Me knife's going to cut me up if I stay one second longer here.' His knife, that's his wife.
'One for me, one for you.' Shingi and me count the money. You don't get tight-fisted with first salary otherwise the ancestors that have give you all this will take it away. That's how I am brought up.
'One for you, two for me.' It is the first time that we count monies together and that's because me I think he is good friend Shingi. Even if he behave funny when things is hard, me I can understand it because that's how civilians behave sometimes because they is not strong people.
Shingi is filled with heap of happiness as he seat on edge of bed because he know that now he can also buy more time to keep spinning his mama that jazz number that he still have graft in Harare North. I have to make sure things is OK with him now before I start looking for my dollars because he have look after me all this time. I am principled man.
Me and Shingi go shopping. We is talking about what to buy as we walk towards centre of Brixton. Shingi say I need smart corduroy jacket.
It's good idea, me I say. But maybe this time we buy one of them coats with many pockets, you know like the one we see at Oxfam shop last month. This is best time to buy winter things and we can share the coat.
We think it out together and Shingi agree with me. Now we play fight around on them street pavements, jumping on each each's back and nearly fall on someone's shaggy small dog.
We go to Oxfam shop and that coat is still there. It have twelve pockets.
We buy it and now we is feeling like them big tycoons.
Then it's time for food. It's early evening and them streets is still full of people standing outside McDonald's and KFC talking and waiting for they girls like life is one big great street party. We pass one of them crowds when I start hitting the old comrade with them lyrics and plant them ideas inside his head that since he have not find out what it's like to hit front bum, maybe we can try organising sweet sweet time with Tsitsi because this is easy front bum to hit. I see flash of big fright in Shingi's eye. It's the fear of girls that Thoko put inside him at school.
If you leave it too late Aleck will take she back to the auntie and you never see she again, I warn.
I can see in his eyes that he like the idea because he give that boy smile that's full of foolishness and teethies.
Me I'm only joking, I tell him. But she is funny girl.
Shuwa?
Have you not notice?
What?'
She just run around the house pretending she don't know she's big tease. You have not notice?
Shingi say he have notice nothing.
All that rural thing is just one big act, I tell Shingi, but he is silent. Even when I bump my foot on pavement kerb as I follow his big stride trying to tell him I'm only joking.
Me I don't want to do anything to she; I'm five years older than she and I used to be ninja, I crack joke.
She give me them eyes sometimes. But this evening me I don't know that tomorrow I will come back from graft to find Shingi is busy trying to thief his way into she head – sitting on chair like peasant, full of teethies and talking deep kind of Shona while wearing funny shorts and tapping his stump finger on thigh. All that is missing is some hoe for him to lean on and look like he been toiling in humble way all his life, losing fingers and all.
I step inside the house and Tsitsi is in kitchen with Shingi; he is busy trying to pull them words out of she mouth when she is busy trying to cook. She don't want to talk no more but Shingi is busy bothering she and trying to impress with big Shona words me.
'Tsitsi, ndeyipi?' I greet Tsitsi.
'Yes, kanjani?' she say.
Shingi, I look him in the eye but we don't say nothing to each each.
I sit on cupboard. Tsitsi is waiting for water to boil when I get my cigarette out.
Tsitsi now have braided hair from the salon women and she look swanky. I fire my cigarette while she wash the pan.
Shingi and me is now just watching she and smoking.
Why you all quiet? she ask.
I'm tired. Hard graft.
Now she hum some song and dash all over kitchen taking things in and out of cupboards and drawers; she is now just swishing she tail around because she know I have come. She know that I am looking.
My head fill up with smoke; now I talk.
Shingi, he is crazy boy, me I shake my head.
Why? Tsitsi shout in she careless rural way.
I just laugh, looking down at my feeties. She is now busy with the baby milk.
He was giving me lesson in how to have sexy time.
Shingi give me puzzled look.
Eiyaaa, Tsitsi laugh.
No, not me and him! He was just talking about how he can make them fancy English girls and they pointy shoes cry if he can get his claws on them.
Tsitsi look shocked and cover she mouth with hand to stop sheself from giggling. Shingi is looking lost.
But he can't even touch them, she say.
I suck my cigarette so there is the small silent moment.
Yea, but he don't really need to touch them. He only have to touch they front bottom and they go howling to the moon, I blow out smoke.
Tsitsi have both hands on she mouth now looking at me like I'm talking things that should not be talked.
He is that kind of boy, Shingi. If I was some father and I catch him in bed with my daughter, me I will tuck them blankets around him to make sure he don't feel cold.
Even Shingi crack up now.
Yes, I tuck them blankets tight like bandage so he can't move one inch. So be careful about having sexy time with Shingi because you go howl to the moon if he touch it.
Stop it, Tsitsi pull serious face.
The water start to boil and Tsitsi turn off gas. She come back and stand leaning against cupboard. She tousle and tousle she braids while we look. Then she turn to window and pretend she now looking at something outside. She is sharp knife.
Now Shingi start again trying to get Tsitsi talking about what songs make she want to do but Tsitsi is not interested no more. He is busy spraying saliva all over as he talk with his hands. Tsitsi not talk; not when I'm here. Me I just fold my arms in front of me while filling my head with more smoke. I don't say nothing.
Now, I say, cutting my quiet, Shingi want Tsitsi and Tsitsi want Shingi. Square square; maybe they must have sweet sweet time? Now, Shingi, this is your chance; get up and lick them pointy breasts and make this thing cry for mercy, I tell comrade.
Tsitsi gasp. Now I can see this look on she face like she not know what to say. At first she have hand over she mouth. Then she start laughing. She just crack up open. She laugh so loud and for so long, Tsitsi. She laugh. Tsitsi laugh. She laugh hard until Shingi give me this vex cheap face because this thing has put his head out of gear. Tsitsi laugh. Baby wake up and start to cry and Tsitsi run upstairs laughing and not come down until Aleck come back from his graft.
You eat with skill, sleep with skill, graft with skill, and at the end of the month collect your termites. Then soon you is out of here. That's the plan.
Me I'm doing my sums to see how things will work out but this rent problem, like bullfrog, is squatting in the way and looking square into my eyes with its big fat face. I have not finish adding the food bit and the front door fly open. It's Tsitsi. She have heap of surprise all over she face like she have just see Christ cycling through Brixton Market in his kaftan and sandals.
'MaiMusindo have been arrested,' she giggle and put she han
d over mouth.
Old spirit MaiMusindo live in Peckham. Last Saturday she have been at our house for the second time to talk to Aleck again about taking the child, Tsitsi, back to she aunt because she's they problem. Now she have been arrest. Tsitsi say they say she get vex and throw one brick into window of neighbour's son's window because he play music too loud and disturb MaiMusindo when she is trying to concentrate on ritual for people who have come to see she.
Everyone in the house go kak kak kak now. MaiMusindo also have crazy rural thing going inside she head. You can tell even when you meet she for the first time. People that know how to fill the air with frightening insults that have teeth, wings and tails – that's they style. But this kind of jambanja is the last thing that anyone expect from she.
'What next is she going to do now – pull out some knife on them the police?' Tsitsi laugh.
'She get possessed!' Farayi laugh.
'In the end the police give she £150 fine and big warning,' Tsitsi say as she sit on my suitcase with baby in she arms. She have been biting she fingers and maybe she need set of them nails.
'There is nail bar on Atlantic Road that sell set of twenty-one for £10,' I give Tsitsi hint but she don't get it. I shut up.
'You have full head of hair and you is one hundred per cent sure that tomorrow it turn grey. That's because you see grey heads on the street and figure things out. But pubic hair is different story; it's black now but you don't know if it turn grey, red, pink or blue when you is old. That's because no old codger on Zimmer frame is going to flash they pubic hair to you on the street,' I tell people in the house last night but everyone give me blank face like they don't know what me I am talking about.
Pubic hair is like your future; you have to find out by yourself what colour it become when time has move on. That is true if you are civilian person. But me I am not civilian person. I know how things is going to turn out. I have already pick my second wages. I know the future; I know what the colour of my pubic hair will be tomorrow.
The second month have also been hard work because Tim have been cracking them jokes and I have to laugh even when I don't hear what he is saying because he talk very fast and in funny accent. Sometimes I forget to laugh; his till is always full of money. Ricardo understand Tim sometimes, even if he is Portuguese boy.
Last week I ask Aleck and Shingi if they know what kind of money fish and chip shop can make in a day but they don't know.
Tim, now he is watching the floor spot where I'm cleaning. Soon he is going to start pointing with his finger to show me where the floor is not OK, I know. Tim like to point without talking; that's when he is reading newspaper. He never leave the till, old Tim. But that's OK because it don't bother me. If me I was unprincipled person, all I have to do is wait and then strike. That's because money is like termite; you don't catch it by its head as it try to come out of its hole otherwise it go back and disappear. You just let it come out in the open and soon it is crawling all over the counter. But that's not my style because me I am principled man. You want money – what is better, to try catching it with your own skill and laughter, or to do it by common criminal's way?
Mother's village area is now going to be take over by mining company that belong to commander of armed forces and villagers that don't want to move have been telled that the army and Green Bombers is coming to move them. That's what I read yesterday at Internet cafe. But that is all propaganda because this story is in the Zimbabwe Independent, the newspaper that never like our government. What you believe is your best weapon, I know. And now Tim keep asking me, 'Are you all right?' I am doing my graft and thinking about Mother; I don't know why he hassle me.
Ricardo is doing the frying and don't talk to me much. He don't even do his usual 'Eh cómo está, Mr Africa' today.
I spend time washing things and cleaning floor thorough because them Health & Safety inspectors have give Tim big warning about cleanliness matters. Even yesterday, Tim keep trying to give me big cheer cracking them jokes that if he lose his licence he go chop my 'Black & Decker and feed it to the greyhounds at Walthamstow Stadium, mate'.
Black & Decker is cockney for penis, Ricardo tell me.
But now, me I am cleaning them floors, Tim keep asking too many questions when I don't want any question because me I don't know why he want to know so much things about me now and disturb my thinking.
'How is Zimbabwe?'
'OK.'
'How is your family back there?'
'OK.'
'What's Zimbabwe like?'
'OK.'
'How is Mugabe?'
'OK.'
'Are you all right?'
'OK.'
'Do you know what Zimbabwe means?'
Zimbabwe mean house of stone, but me I just shrug my shoulders and say I don't know what it mean because he is hassling me for no reason. Now he start telling me what Zimbabwe mean because he look it up on Internet last week. Me I play dunderhead who don't know nothing. 'It means house of stone,' he say.
I don't want to stay at the fish bar one second longer because me I am tired of watching this man sitting there behind counter and babysitting his machine. Tsitsi is maybe in danger at home, you never know.
I go back to graft and Tim spend whole day trying to break me and make me talk because he want to crack jokes. But because we did not grow up herding cattle together, me I refuse for anyone to break me.
He have pin number for opening that machine, the machine that is turning him into pervert. I have never see grown-up man that have such funny relationship with his machine.
I finish them my duties and have to help Ricardo with unpacking them chips and fish.
Tim have fail to break me. Now he stop teasing me. But you still need crowbar to move him away from his machine.
My shift finish early today. I have just finish packing delivery of them fish into freezer and me I'm walking out of shop like usual when I stick my paw inside my trousers and Tim throw his head up from newspaper on the counter and ask me what I am hiding inside them trousers. Fish bar don't sell no screwdriver if you think I have thief from here. I nearly lick him with the truth but I keep quiet and wait for the truth to come out on its own. Truth is like termite. You just let it come out in the open and soon it is crawling all over the anthill for everyone to see.
'Me I am not thief; I was only turning my tool around because he keep rolling this way and that way, lying on his back instead of lie proper on his stomach.'
11
I don't even have to rush back home today; Tsitsi is going to be late coming home because MaiMusindo have ask she to help. So I don't have to worry who might be touch touching she inside the house. On my way from graft I buy blinding vodka from some Polish rough sleepers on Electric Avenue on account of it is very cold and Aleck don't allow us to switch Farayi's electric heater on because it waste electricity. Vodka is good against the cold. Vodka is good against propaganda.
Aleck is home early when I get to our house. Even if sometimes he give Shingi hard time, I don't mind if he also drink my vodka tonight because I don't want no bad air inside our house.
'Come, we can have drink and be cheerful when we is still alive. Tomorrow we all dead, you know,' I say standing in kitchen doorway and shake vodka bottle to him. He is sitting at kitchen table with his head down eating takeaway food. His mouth is full and he is looking like he is blowing trumpet. I stand by door and wait for him to swallow and lick his lips, but before he have even swallow, he smile, give me the thumbs up and get his head down to the plate again. I know the kind of thing that he was trying to make me feel but he just don't know how to do it right, Aleck. Comrade Mhiripiri know how to do it sweet. He do it to me in first week of learning political orientation and history of the liberation struggle at the Green Bomber camp. I ask if we is going to learn about Mao's Likkle Red Book and he laugh with other commanders and pat me on the head saying we will learn Likkle Red Book when enemy of the state have been scattered and it's time for poems. Look at
history, he always say if you push him, the path of many of us is set by few fat bellies with sharp horns and hard hoofs; they gore and trample you the moment they know you see through they cloud of lies. And you think you can fight them with poems? That's his style, Comrade Mhiripiri.
I get into our room and try to whip up cheerful mood in Shingi and Farayi and soon we is having shots. I am not expecting Aleck to come and join us in our room but it don't take long for him to walk in like big man as usual. He want to join in the fun now because we is talking about them Zimbabwean women in Harare North and bawling with big laughter.
'They is getting funny those Zimbabwean girls, especially in Luton; all of them is turning into lesbians or prostitutes nhayi,' Farayi say.
'Lesbian? That's just lack of real men; bring them these girls here and we cure this silliness in one night,' I tell him.
Shingi and Farayi roar with laughter. Aleck is still standing like some pole above us and look funny, not knowing what to do and being like district administrator that want to taste the villagers' brew that is passing around in calabash but don't know how to join in the group because he is now big important man.
'You can sit over there, Aleck,' I point to other end of Farayi's mattress. I throw blanket off my shoulders and jump up to go to kitchen to get cup for him.
I pour him one shot, Aleck throw it down his throat in one go and grin looking around at everyone like this is one great feat he have achieve. I grin back and pour him another. Again he chuck it down his throat. This time we clap like you do when some minister has just cut the ribbon to open some new building or something. All of us is all toothy mouths as I pour Master Aleck another.
* * *
Alcohol encourage too much joy. You don't let alcohol or joy fill you up too much. That's what Comrade Mhiripiri teach in our training camp. The enemies of the state is always filled with too much joy because the government is having hard time, Comrade Mhiripiri say. But they have no ginger. That's because joy is never good motivator; it stop the vex but it also bury you completely under heaps of self-doubt; soon you is able to see both sides of the story and that get your head all out of gear and then you can't find the fire inside you. That's they biggest weakness them enemies of the state, Comrade Mhiripiri tell us. They don't know how to tie they hearts tight like ball of twine because they is too joyful.
Harare North Page 8