As Mai VaMaidei was preparing to go to the market, I broke the news to her.
“Gogo is coming next week for Christmas,” I said. Her eyebrows lifted for only a fraction of a millimetre. If I was not watching her carefully, I could have missed it. She said nothing. She continued to remove sugar beans from a 10 litre tin and packing it into small plastics. From experience I knew that from the tin, she would have about thirty small packs of sugar beans, each weighing about 300g.
Sometimes, I always thought the measurement was far below 250g. Selling in the streets was a big scam. There was always underhand dealing and the customer always came second best. She made super profits from repacking into small units. The 10L tin of sugar beans cost about US$10 but after repacking she made about $30 or so selling each pack at $1 each.
She was so engrossed in her work, I thought she was not going to respond. She was not in good books with Gogo, my mother. They were sworn enemies, but you would never know it if you were not observant. It only took me a couple of years after our marriage to know of this. They only exchanged good banter only in the presence of others. Left alone, they hardly conversed. Our children loved Gogo. It was only that fact that seemed to bring a bit of sanity between my mother and her daughter-in-law.
“ I forgot to tell you, my mother is also coming for Christmas next week. As you know, she is not feeling well. Madzibaba Elisha will pray for her and apply holy stone on her,” Mai VaMaidei said.
This took me by surprise. This had nothing to do with the chest pains my mother -in-law has been afflicted with for the past ten years or so. Mai VaMaidei did not want Gogo playing with her grand children all to herself.
I liked my mother-in-law. The problem was Mai VaMaidei. At times , I felt that Mai VaMaidei wanted the two ageing women to be squabbling over their grandchildren.
By also inviting her mother to visit us over the festive season, Mai VaMaidei was creating another problem. The quarters we rented were just too small for such visitors. We used two rooms and they were very tiny for comfort. When it was cold, they trapped freezing temperatures. During summer, it felt like one was living in a blast furnace.
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In the past, we had discussed about this. We had seemed to agree that our parents should never visit us concurrently. For sometime, this arrangement had worked until Mai VaMaidei shifted the goalposts.
I went outside and took shelter from the sweltering heat under the shadow of the mulberry tree. I was on night shift, so I had the whole day to myself.
One day, Mai VaMaidei had said.
“We’ re poor because your relatives never sleep. They go to fetish priests seeking our demise,” I was shocked.
“Who told you that?”
“Madzibaba Elisha,” Mai VaMaidei said.
I always think that some of the misunderstanding in our home emanate from Madzibaba Elisha’s shrine. I was going to confront him at some point in the future. It was still too early to go to Zororo Bar , but I found myself walking in that direction. There were always loafers at the bar. I would never call them patrons because they never bought beer even for themselves. They always hang out in the bar waiting for benevolence from some patrons.
All I wanted was to have my mother come over to the city and enjoy the Christmas festivities with the family. She would tell stories to her grandchildren. I had made this resolve seven years ago when I had discovered that she had been spending Christmas alone in the rural areas as if she had no family.
In old age, the elderly folks need more the presence of their loved ones and dot around their grandchildren.
Onie Ndoro
X@Onie90396982/[email protected]
