I hated waiting. When I looked at my watch, thirty minutes had already passed by. It was almost 6pm. My back was against the street lamp pole. All the street lights had stopped working a long time ago. This did not stop the moths and flies from buzzing around the lamp pole.
It had rained earlier and the air was damp. There was always an unpleasant smell after the rains. The bad odour came from the rubbish of rotting cabbages by the roadside. Despite the impending darkness, the traffic of people moving up and down the street continued to increase.
A young woman passed by carrying a baby on her back. She looked distraught. She was too young to have a child. She walked slowly. The baby started crying. She stopped. She unstrapped the crying baby from her back.
She looked helpless. She was much younger than I had thought. Her young innocent face had a haunted look of the unknown. She had swallowed more than she could chew.
The baby continued to wail.
“What is wrong with the child?” I asked.
She was startled. She had not seen me. At first she wanted to move away, but something dropped on the ground. I picked it up. It was a crumbled one dollar note.
“Thank you.” She looked embarrassed.
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“She is ill,” she said. She had dimples and for the first time , I noticed that she was beautiful.
What was I getting myself into? I should just mind my own business.
“It’s not safe for you to be out here, especially with the child,” I said.
She had started to move away and then stopped. She wanted to say something but thought better of it.
“Where’s the father of the child?” I asked. She turned around and looked at me. There was a tiny flicker in her eyes. I could have missed it if I was not looking directly into her eyes. I could not miss the pain in her eyes. She pointed with her right arm towards Zororo Bar.
“Your husband is in there?” I said. She nodded.
“Can you call him for me. I can’t get in the bar,” she said.
I did not want to get involved. At the same time I did not want her to be exposed to the goings on in the bar. A woman who entered in a bar was not regarded as wife material. She could even be mocked if she entered.
I was torn between two minds. Baba VaTata was nowhere in sight. He should have come by now. Some of the people who were passing by were peering at us in the dark.
I think many of them recognised me and would blow the trumpet to Mai VaMaidei. Being alone in the street with another woman was typical evil appearance.
“ Who’s your husband?” I said.
“Gidza,” she said. The name did not ring a bell straight away. There were other characters I knew by that name but none off those could be her husband .
“I’ll ask around in the bar,” I said.
“I want him to come. I don’t have money to take the child to the clinic,” she said.
I went in the bar. The bar was filling up with patrons. I asked around but there was no one in the bar by the name of Gidza. I was disappointed to see Baba VaTata sitting around with Rasta and Fatso. They were drinking beer. He had kept me waiting outside.
I made the sudden realisation that sometimes your friends take you for granted. Maybe I should also not take them seriously.
I continued the search for Gidza. He was not in the bar. When I went outside, I found the young woman looking even more helpless. The only good thing is that the baby had ceased crying.
I felt guilty.
“He’s not in the bar, he must be somewhere,” I said.
“Take this, it’s all I have,” I said.
It was the only money I had. At first she refused the five dollars out of pride.
“It’s for the sake of the baby,” I said losing my patience. I sounded a bit harsh. I was not sure if it was because I was donating all the money I had or I was angry with Baba VaTata for having kept me waiting for so long.
“Thank you,” the young woman said. She wanted to go down on her knees but I had already turned around to go and confront Baba VaTata as to why he had kept me waiting. The last I saw of her, she was rushing down the dark street.
Onie Ndoro
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