Jenny arrive with she dog suckling one of them dummy teats that mothers stick inside they babies' mouths. She been wandering and foraging around Clapham because today she say she don't feel like going into the city to chase them mobile soup kitchens that is run by charity organisations. She want food.
Yari yari yari dogs and cats can be cured by homeopathy, she talk and bite our sausage.
Now she want our skunk.
Next day I make supper and ask Dave and Jenny if they want any. 'I prefer Marks & Spencer's food,' Dave say.
'I'm OK,' say Jenny.
They is trying to see how far they can push they luck with us. Hoping to wangle big juicy Marks & Spencer's meal out of naive foreigners. And they don't want to eat what we eat because they think it's rubbish, I tell Shingi after supper as I take over Tsitsi's room. I don't want to keep sleeping with Dave and Jenny downstairs.
On Monday, we don't offer them no food, except Coke. They don't go. On Tuesday they go out during the day and when they come back we don't offer them nothing, not even water, and we eat supper while Dave give us those eyes that tell you that the owner of this face step off long time ago.
This is not right what we doing, Shingi say on Wednesday morning.
Wait and see, I tell him.
On Thursday morning Jenny get up early and leave because she say she want to go to the Ace of Clubs in Clapham and then later chase them soup kitchens in the city. But Dave don't go. Even when Shingi get ready to leave for work. Me I step out of the house; you don't want to be left alone with him or else he end up wanting to be friends and then stick to you like tick.
On Friday our friendship with Dave have take unexpected turn; he come back from the bins behind Marks & Spencer's hauling them sausages, bacon, tinned corn, buckets of prawn sandwiches that we will eat for days.
'But don't go into those backstreets at night,' Dave warn us.
'Why?'
'They can be completely mental. Full of strange characters.' Dave is now trying to remain inside the house after the soup disaster last night. That was when we arrive at the squat in the evening to find that, out of the blue, he had rustle up some flaming hot soup for us.
This is not good sign, I warn Shingi then.
The soup turn out to be so hot hot but we brave it. Soon the comrade get sick in the toilet. This morning I am about to kick up big storm but Dave say he is sorry the spices that he use he did not get from Marks & Spencer's and is hotter than he expect and that he will replace some of our food that he chuck into the soup. Then he tell us that them bins at the back of Marks & Spencer's is the best there is in town and only few people know that. Lots of good food – cans of baked beans, beer, sausages, expired foodstuffs – can be found there waiting for us.
'But those are mental backstreets at night.'
Because of this Ma . . . Marks & Sp . . . Sp . . . Spencer bins we is now going to save squillions of money, Shingi say. Maybe he can stay.
Yes, but we is not getting his share of electricity and gas from Marks & Spencer bins, I warn him.
Shingi hand me his mobile phone and there is silence from the other end. Only the sound of slow breathing. Then the line go dead. That's the first worryful thing. Tom? Or Comrade Mhiripiri? Me I also don't want to be known now.
'Don't open the front door if you don't know who is knocking,' I warn everyone. The jackals is scattered.
'The doctor from Rwanda has been arrested.' I can hear Dave talk to Shingi. That's the second worryful thing. Me I don't want no one knocking on our door if they is being investigate by British police. Tom say that's what he hear is happening to Comrade Mhiripiri since he came to Harare North.
'What doctor?' Shingi ask.
'The doctor that was involved in the killing of Tutsis in Rwanda; it's in the news.' The police have catch him now. He run away from Rwanda and have been living in Brighton for years, Dave talk talk like he know anything about them these things. Yari yari yari yeee I was involved in campaign to have him arrest some few years ago; yeee I was campaigner for Amnesty International; yeee Amnesty International they campaign for justice all over the world.
I listen to him talk talk until he have tell and retell the Rwanda story to death. He go on and on about how he have friends that know Peter Tatchell, the homosexual that try to do citizen's arrest on Comrade Mugabe. Shingi also get carried away now and for first time ever he now have opinion on Comrade Mugabe – spinning clouds of jazz numbers about how the president encourage corruption because in Zimbabwe ministers can take take anything they want from anyone. He have hear that from me when I tell him about Mother's village but now he talk about it like he is professor.
When Dave go out to buy tobacco me I want to ask Shingi what kind of style this is. In the end I don't say nothing but only offer him cigarette. He just give me funny face because he know me I can read the score.
Shingi have come late from graft that evening and refuse to cook saying that he is not hungry and that he have headache. He also say he now want to keep all his money for himself.
You OK?
Yes.
How come you not hungry?
N . . . nothing.
You eat anything?
No.
Even on your way from graft?
Shingi walk out of kitchen. I don't get the score that make this jazz number necessary. But I am no civilian so I don't panic.
'Why you talking to yourself, DID man?' Jenny ask. She is back in the house and already causing big racket throwing off she boots on them floorboards.
There is small silence. Dave have been quiet all this time because he is busy helping Shingi spend his money now. I give Shingi all his money yesterday because I want him to feel the truth; if the truth start crawling on his face then he get ashamed, apologise and let me keep it. That was my plan. But he take the money and walk away without shame. Not even thanking me for keeping it. Now they have start to waste it.
'You have to try this,' Jenny break the silence.
'What is it?'
'Smack.' Dave now start to tell Shingi that this smack thing going to make him forget Tsitsi. It work like magic, he say.
This smack thing – that's Shingi's money being wasted. I am sitting tight in this house hoping all this don't end with people spinning jazz numbers about my past. I look in the mirror and I see my beard is growing long.
Shingi have start to leave pieces of bread in kitchen cupboard so that he can feed the rat. Jenny has spin him some number about animal rights and why we should learn to live with the rat. It's complete waste of money; none of this will have happen if I was in charge of our money. But I just spend time in my room because these days our house is having big headache I can see.
Last week there was syringe in the lounge. Then there was another in the kitchen. Yesterday one was lying on staircase. Now there is even one inside toilet bowl. And evenings now end with everyone curled up on floor of Shingi's room like they is dead. I grow my beard with skill.
From window of my room I can see miles into Brixton. My window look everywhere; it's one of them sad eyes that look at you when you come to our house. I spend my time sitting by window and look outside at the world while Shingi and his friends slam them doors in the house.
I spend heap of time by the window writing the diary about us, pushing heaps of thoughts around inside my head. I am making big effort to keep big cheer on my face and don't want to sow too much bad ideas about Shingi. But I cancel out the page that I have write about Shingi. I buy another padlock so I can have two on my suitcase because me I don't trust Shingi and his friends no more. Maybe soon they try to go through my suitcase. I don't even recognise this Shingi. And when I find that he also now keep his suitcase locked all the time, I have to try hard to stop myself from finding out if his toothbrush in the bathroom can also work good as toilet brush.
22
Dave slam the front door so hard again and again, our house nearly fall down. He have been cheat while buying drugs. He think that he is bu
ying crack but it turn out to be something for making dogs do heaps of poo.
Jenny do this violent brain-rattling laugh that shake even the doors and windows of our house. She dog even start to bark.
In the evening there's heaps of vodka bokkles going around and everyone in Shingi's room sound loud and pathetic. By midnight Dave is lying on floor like dead, Shingi have pass out on his bed and Jenny is lying in pool of vomit in bathroom.
On Monday Shingi forget to go to work. In his room things is quiet. I sit on my suitcase by window most of the day, polishing my screwdriver.
I go out wandering in Brixton Market and I bump into old Tim buying fish. He is with the knife that he always talk about in his shop. He give me big funny grin when he see me but I shake his hand to make clear that I don't do no hard feelings.
'Hi, Shingi, this is my wife Diana.'
His knife is one of them big mamas that look like they wear apron all the time when inside house and always smell of flour and baking powder. Tim is looking worryful as he introduce me to she.
She have warm smile and we try to make small talk as Tim turn around to haggle with fishmonger. I ask she if Tim allow she to hold TV remote control at home, and she go kak kak kak and I don't know what's so funny.
Tim join us; he look vex and complain about how the fishmonger try to use them ways and habits that is normally used to put down them poor folk. I nod as his knife watch because Tim is talking straight to me saying he also come from poor background. He continue with this outpouring so that there's no chance of us talking about how I leave his graft.
'Oh people are sometimes not treated fair,' he cry and me I agree until he try to tell me that in England another way them poor folk used to be put down was by being ridicule for being not good at holding they fork and knife.
'Now, me I don't agree. Even if I'm not English, there is some things that I know first hand. I have see Dave's use of fork and knife, which cannot be classify as five-star skill.'
'Who's Dave?'
'Some homeless bum. One day we go to Elser Cafe. There Dave demonstrate his fork-and-knife skill in grand way. While he is busy doing battle with piece of meat, it shoot off his plate like missile, fly into the air, out through the cafe entrance and it land somewhere in Israel. That's the kind of accident that don't happen with someone who have got good fork-and-knife skill.'
Now this pathetic drunk smackhead appear out of nowhere, and out of the three of us, he come straight to me to ask for spare change.
'Spare some change, brother?' he say, shaking and giving me this long coalface; his eyes drop as he try the old emotional blackmail style. He press so many buttons on me I want to close them my eyes so tight you can't swipe razor blade through my eyelids.
'People. They should know when and when not to bother other people. I don't like saying no because, deep down, I am nice man. I even have them friends who is like you. But right now I have to tell you the truth straight and square: don't ever talk to me like that; you don't know me.'
He drop his eyes, throw curse and walk away.
'Just because me I'm black native and he's black don't give him the right to pick me out of all them people. Sometimes you have to take firm stand with them things otherwise you get run over,' I tell Tim and his knife. They is struggling to smile because they give me them tight grins like they don't want to be involved in this kind of thing.
I go to Internet cafe to check my email and there is email from Tom. He have really now land in the country and is asking if he can come visit me and have you see Comrade Mhiripiri? People say he is after you because when the police start chasing him back home he had use some of his money to pay only part of bribe to cover up for you but you let him down. They say he is bitter man now.
I get up and leave.
I pick one copy of the Metro newspaper from the station and go back to our house.
At home I find Jenny and Dave all worryful and tense. They say someone come here looking for me while I was out. When they tell him I'm not here he say he will wait and he spend hours sitting alone in the kitchen. Then he leave without saying one word.
'Did he say he is looking for me, you sure?'
'Yes.'
'Don't open front door if you don't know who is knocking.'
I sit on my suitcase and read the Metro paper from front to end. I don't want to think about how much money Shingi have got left now.
The news have not change since I last read the Metro; stories about Israel and Palestine, Iraq and another story about Tony Blair and how his Christian beliefs not good for his graft. The only interesting thing inside is in column where they is talking about the Ancient & Honourable Society of Rat Catchers, some organisation with members who is quality professional people. The society have big reputation, with each member average about 600 rats per year, all catched on farms in Sussex and Berkshire where the honourable society organise weekend visits for members. Membership is £550. That is more than what Shingi have got left now.
I also read about how long time ago in England men who was dying and don't want to turn into some sorry and poor sight would just go to edge of cliff and jump off. And if they don't have the strength to make journey to cliff then there was always this club called 'the holy maul' that was keep at the back of the local parish for any family that need it. The family take it and go maul the man. I wonder if Shingi brave enough to face the holy maul if something happen that leave him too weak to go jump off cliff in Dover.
Out on our road some racket break out involving woman with big temper. I go out to check what this is all about. It's Jenny. Dave and she is all on they way back and she clash with neighbour who live two doors from us. The jambanja start when Jenny's dog drop kaka on the pavement right in front of our neighbour's gate and she don't bother to pick it. Then this old man come out of house and come down on she like big swan, asking she if she is going to pick that up. But Jenny is used to this kind of thing; she just start throwing she mouth in rough way: yeee children is dying of starvation in Zimbabwe and you come out whinging about dog shit in front of your house; yeee let's get perspective here please!
The whole thing descend into one roof-shaking shouting match about 'you people' and neighbours stick they heads out of windows; I get worryful because I don't want wrong attention being attract to us. I thief back into the house and don't want anything to do with this. I don't want police to come sniff sniff around our house.
You and your friends now getting careless about things, I say to Shingi when they come inside. Just because you have your papers OK and don't fear police, don't have to be selfish about things.
He just sit on his bed and start rolling skunk. He have forget to go to graft today.
I write to your mother and tell she what's going on, I warn him. I will write letter and say Shingi is working in Parliament and earning tons of money. Why you hide it from your family that you have Parliament job now? Back home inflation have go crazy at zillion per cent, your family is starving and you is wasting money on drugs here.
'Shingi! You OK?' It's Jenny, but there's no answer from Shingi.
Jenny start asking if he have headache again. Dave think Shingi is having whitey because he smoke too much skunk.
'But he's talking to himself,' Jenny tell Dave. They don't know what Shingi is saying.
'He's talking in tongues,' Dave laugh.
Our house is full of skunk smoke. The next thing that I hear is this hoarse and gnarled primitive howl that sound like it is being tear off Shingi's throat.
Jenny's dog start barking and Jenny start giggling with fright. Now Shingi is doing deep belch, making animal grunts, breathing deep and loud and groaning. I know this number; he is just pretending he is possessed by vex spirit.
'He's getting the shakes,' Dave panic.
Shingi is only trying to frighten me because I have give him tongue-whipping and threaten to write to his family and tell on him. I know this kind of style. Shingi have do it before back home. Even Uncle Nhamo used
to do it.
I sit tight waiting to hear if Shingi is going to say something about my past. But he start calling out for his mother. Dave and Jenny is out of they depth now. This racket go on for hours and when it die down, the first thing I hear clear is Jenny. 'I'm hungry,' she say. She want to go check if there's anything in them bins.
'No way, this time of the night?' Dave don't want to go. 'Those backstreets get completely mental at night.' He make big moan; yari yari you get stabbed by weird people for no reason; yari yari I don't want to deal with mental people.
I lie on my bed listening and wearing my past like it is some very tight gown; I don't want no one tugging at it.
I get up and go to toilet and as soon as I sit suddenly there's loud rude knock on the front door. On the toilet I sit straight up. I hear Dave run to the door. He don't even ask who is outside and just fling the door open like idiot.
It's them the police. They is following on complaint that was make by neighbour on account of the quarrel and all the racket that Jenny's caused.
Jenny come down to join Dave at the front door and they is busy talking to the police now. They talk and talk for some time and I don't know what they say but they make them go away.
23
Shingi stop going to work altogether; I know that in Parliament this kind of behaviour is what can get bosses vex; miss graft two three times and you is out straight and square.
I call Sekai on the phone and she send big earthquake down the wire and it rumble inside my head. She have slip back into she nasty self now.
'Now stop childish games. I know things about you but I am not blackmailing you and threatening to climb St Paul's dome to shout it to the world.'
Then she go on yari yari yari, yeee I am not trying to shame you but doing you big favour because you have to face up to your life like all of us. 'And did you hear that General Nguruve has send your Green Bomber friends and the army to your mother's village and now everyone has been moved away?' she say.
Harare North Page 15