"The moson" is a terminology that I tailor made for the description of a
relationship between mother and son.- Travis Soda.
The month is a very busy one. We are now working in full force, the assignments
have doubled in number and the teaching has become more serious. I have not heard
from Cameroon and I have not seen him even on the University's premises. It's as if,
he just vanished back to the shadows. Luckily I have not heard from Chris Evans
but the guilt really is clawing at me, though it has now lost most of its gravity.
Today is a weekend and I am supposed to go and collect Simangaliso from Bulawayo.
This would also mean that, I would have to show them the pregnancy. Strange
enough, I shiver whenever I think about telling my parents about the pregnancy.
It's going to be a really broad step to take especially without telling them about who
the father is. Nonetheless, I would have to tell them one or the other. This time, I opt
to board a plane, instead of driving to Bulawayo.
I walk out of the busy airport and I get a taxi into town. When I get to town, I buy
something to eat and a few take always for the people at home. I then get a taxi home.
When I get home, everyone is at home, even Miriam, her children and husband are
at home. It's as if, they are all waiting for my arrival. Something seems a bit fishy
and strange…. The problem now is that, the pregnancy is now visibly showing and
the dress that I am wearing, does not do any justice to hiding the pregnancy. I also
have started having facial discoloring (Melasma). My skin looks more of that of a
leopard than a human being.
I knock lightly on the front door and I push into the house, only to be met by Miriam
who has come to answer the door. We eye each other with absolute shock. She
amazed of my presence and I shocked that she of all people, had to answer the door.
"Hie" she says as she takes my bags and the paper bags from my hands.
"It's quite a surprise that you decided to visit us this year. It's been long since we
were graced by your presence during family gatherings." She says as she takes my
things away.
"Mom!" Simangaliso says as he runs up to me and hugs me, only to be barricaded
by the pregnancy.
"Hie, how you are." I say to him, trying to distract his mind from questioning me
about the pregnancy which he is eyeing curiously and ready to throw questions at
me.
"I am fine. What is wrong with your stomach? Is it painful? It looks and feels big." He
says.
'No, it's not painful. There is a baby inside." I say to him
"You swallowed a baby? Is that even possible?" he asks in absolute amusement,
causing me to laugh lightly.
"I did not swallow a baby. The baby is forming inside me. Very soon, you will have a
baby brother or sister." I say to him.
"I really hope it will be a baby brother." He responds.
"Just pray about it okay. Now let's join everyone else inside. What are you guys
doing?" I say as we head to the living room, simangaliso's hand tightly locked with
mine.
"We are having some lunch" Simangaliso responds
"Let's hope you saved some for me because I am famished." I say to him…strangely
I am famished despite all the eating that I did in town.
"We didn't know you were coming." He reasons.
"And there she is! The queen diva. We are eating, come join us" Arnold says as he
gestures me to an empty seat, next to his seat. I greet everyone else in the room,
settle down and immediately dig into the meal despite the fact that I had something
to eat before I came home.
"Someone's appetite has increased I tell you." Arnold says.
"It's because she has a baby inside of her." Simangaliso says, in the process causing
me to choke on my food. I cough uncontrollably. Miriam and Tariro both rush to me
and they both start hitting my back. Tariro offers me some water. I surely had seen
my demise there and then. Wherever that food went, it surely almost knocked me six
feet under.
I inhale lightly to let in some air into my body and I turn to my plate and I immediately
dig in.
"So is it true? Are you really pregnant?" my mother questions.
'Yes I am pregnant. Five months pregnant. That's why I came here. I wanted to show
you the pregnancy." I say to them all.
"And the father?" my father questions eagerly.
"things are a bit complicated between the two of us but as soon as I put my house in
order, he will come down here to talk about the baby." I say to them.
"Does he seem promising?" Tariro questions.
"Of course he is. It's just that we had a little misunderstanding and I messed up
things. As soon as the heat dies down, I promise you, you will get to know him." I
say to them, a tight smile plastered on my lips. These days the lies that ooze out of
my mouth surprise even I, the custodian. They roll off my tongue so smoothly, you
would think I am telling the truth.
I stay in Bulawayo for a full week and after that, I take Simangaliso back with me to
Harare just as my mother- or Simangaliso had suggested. I have already enrolled
him at one of the reputable private schools. Its really a bit step for him, I mean from
the government school that he was learning at, to a private school but I know my boy
will manage.
I drop him at his school on his first day and that's when I realize that the school has
more white students than the native black students. Its going to be one hell of a
struggle for him to adjust.
When the other lecturers are going for lunch, I am rushing to Simangaliso's school
to collect him. We stay in my office for the rest of the day until I knock off. He does
his homework here so that when he gets home, he eats and sleeps.
"Mama others are doing horse riding lessons, can I also go?" he asks.
"Let's hope the lessons are not that expensive because if they are, then no lessons
for you my boy." I say to him
"Here are the forms and the advertising pamphlet" Simangaliso says as he gives e a
small pile of papers together with a letter from his school teacher. Apparently most
students in the school do horse riding, music lessons, swimming and other silly rich
people's activities and its part of the school's requirements that a student should be
part and parcel of three of these activities. Upon consulting Simangaliso, I conclude
that I will enroll him for the beloved horse riding lessons, music lessons and
swimming lessons as the other lessons seem stupid to me. Luckily these activities
are spread across the course of the week so the little rascal will be constantly
occupied, coming home exhausted only to eat and sleep, as easy as A.B.C.
During the weekends, we spend most of our time in the interior of the house, I in my
study and he, watching the television. The only time that we get to interact is when
I am cooking, gardening and during meal times, otherwise he knows his place.
The problem about the boy is that he basically gets pushed around by peer pressure.
He wants a piano. A big machine!! I mean, I just bought him a violin, a guitar, a flute
and clarinet and he still wants a piano! Does he think money gets picked up from
the fields like cotton! I looked up the piano on the internet and the damn ugly thing
is expensive so I decided to ask around. Luckily I got a second hand with a reasonable
but still expensive price. It's a good second hand from this old age white couple. I
finally got the instrument in the house and that meant that I had to change the
sitting arrangement in the living room and I couldn't do so regarding that I am heavily
pregnant.
Vimbai and Chiedza, together with Vimbai's understanding husband came to help
me with the moving of the furniture. After that we settle down for some lunch. Lunch
filled with nothing but hearty boots of laughter, courtesy of the wine that we are
dawning except for me and the kids who are drinking juice. After the meal, Vimbai
and Chiedza help me do the dishes, despite their protests that I should not do the
dishes. Lastly we all settle down for a movie.
It's been a monotonous three weeks and I am growing bigger by the day. My skin is
growing darker and the sports are increasing by the day. This is the first pregnancy
that got me looking like some animal, instead of a normal being.
Simangaliso likes listening to the baby's kicks or whatever movement that it makes.
Sow whenever I feel any movement, I tell him and he comes to listen. He usually puts
his ear on my abdomen and his hands around the pregnancy and he listens
attentively. We both sit silently as we listen closely to the movements of the baby. it
might sound crazy but the baby helped me bond more with Simangaliso. Both
physically and emotionally...…
Towards the closing of the schools, I fall violently ill and for three days, I was at
home. Working from home. The only thing that I was able to do was drive Simangaliso
to town, we grab some breakfast, I buy his lunch and I drive him back to school.
When I collect him in the afternoon,, I buy some lunch and we eat and then get
something to eat for supper. On the third day, I was feeling much better but I wasn't
strong enough and so I woke up, bathed and put on my maternity dress, bathed
Simangaliso, dressed him and we went to our usual spot, got some breakfast, bought
his lunch and I drove him to school.
"Have a good day." I say as he unstraps his seat belt.
"Same to you. But I hope you get well soon" he says.
"I hope so too. Pray for me, maybe I will get well soon" I say to him and I close my
eyes and listen to his soft innocent voice speaking to God.
"Dear God, thank you for this lovely day. Thank you for my family. Thank you for the
food we eat and the friends we have. Guide us so that we spend the day in happiness.
Dear God, please make my mother feel better and please keep my baby brother or
sister safe. I pray in the mighty name of Jesus Christ Amen." He says.
"Thanks for the prayer. Now have a good day. Rush to class before you get late." I
say to him.
"Okay. Don't forget to come and collect me at 4:30, after the horse riding lessons."
He says as he opens the car's door and hops out.
"I won't" I respond and I watch him as he gets off the car, carries his bags, waves at
me and hurries off to class. My sweet summer sunshine. To tell the honest truth,
after Simangaliso prayed for me today, I felt a little better. I had a little ounce of my
strength restored back to me. Or maybe it's only in my head but most definitely, this
boy is a miracle in more than one way.
When I get home, I settle down to watch television before I get down to reading and
working. I watch the television until I fall asleep. I wake up at twelve midday, feeling
a bit hungry. For the first time in a long time, I then decide to make myself a sandwich
and some juice and gets down to marking the assignments that have flooded my
email. I work on each assignment with the assignment with the scrutiny that I have,
worse off now that I am recovering from this terrible sickness, whatever the hell it
was.
I stay in my office for a very long time. Constantly eating the sandwiches that are
loaded in my plate. As I am still engulfed in my work, my cell phone rings. Worse off,
it's in the living room. This means that I would have to go downstairs to get the cell
phone! I ignore it at first but its continuous ringing pushes me to the edge. I slowly
walk out of the office, descend down the staircase and get to the living room, where
my cell phone is. I answer without even looking at the caller I.D. I should stop this
idiotic tendency of mine though.
"Hello" I answer the cell phone.
"Miss Maruva we have a situation down here. Can you come to the hospital?
Simangaliso has been mauled by a bull dog. It's very serious...." And my world goes
upside down. My ears shut out the sound of the person talking on the phone. My
limbs suddenly get weak, I barely can stand on them. My eyes blink back tears and
my throat fights to let in some air into my lungs as a large ball of emotion develops
in my throat making breathing more of a labored effort than a natural process.
"Miss Maruva? Miss Maruva can you hear me?" the feminine voice with an accent
says in the process jolting me back to reality.
"Okay, I am on my way." I say to the woman on the other end of the cell phone.
"I will be waiting for you at the hospital's car park." She says and hangs up. She
immediately sends me the hospital name. Without hesitation, I put on my shoes,
pick up my keys and I walk as fast as I can to the car, my heart beating wildly in my
chest.
My arrival at the hospital is delayed by the thick traffic in the city but whenever I get
the chance, I weave through the traffic like a crazy woman. When I get to streets with
lesser cars, I put my foot on the pedal, increasing the speed, driving towards the
desired destination. I am eager to get there but I know that whatever I will find there
is going to shock me.
I arrive at the hospital, only to be met by a white female school teacher, wearing a
blood stained dress, her arms stained with blood, her rosy face and messy hair
screaming out the very fact that there is disaster. Her eyes are glossy and she is
evidently fighting tears. I bite my lower lip and I breathe in as a way of composing
myself. I pull myself together, comforting myself with the thought that maybe things
are not really that bad.
"How is he?" I ask her, my voice trembling mysteriously. Instead of answering me,
she shakes her head before saying
"It's very critical. The dog bite him on the neck and his jugular vein was affected. He
lost a lot of blood despite our attempts to stop the bleeding. The doctor has taken
him for an operation." She says.
"Have they told you guys anything about the progress of the operation?" I question.
"No. not yet" she says, her voice exhausted.
"Can we get to the hospital, so that we can get someone to assist us with information?
I want to know how he is doing." I say to the school teacher and we walk to the
hospital's reception, where we wait patiently until someone, most probably a doctor,
comes. He is dressed in the blue uniform, a shower cap and hell lot of other things
that are used in a theater.
"Excuse me, I am looking for Simangaliso Maruva's parents" he says.
"I am the mother" I say as I jump off my seat and head to his direction.
"ma'am, the operation is going pretty well but then on the other hand, Simangaliso
lost a lot of blood and he would need a transfusion. We only managed to give him
two pints but we would need more. I don't know whether any family members can
donate." He says.
"What blood group are you looking for?" the school teacher questions as she gets
nearer to the doctor.
"He is AB- (negative). So are there any matches?" he questions.
"I am universal donor, I can donate." I say to him as I get closer too, ready to go and
donate the precious substance.
"Unfortunately your pregnancy happens to be a limiting factor. We cannot allow you
to donate blood when you are pregnant. It's a very risky move." The doctor responds.
"what blood group are you looking for?" a masculine voice with an accent questions,
causing me to turn my head towards the direction of the voice, only to be met by a
tall white male with shoulder long black curly hair and a short mush of behead, most
probably from a day or two of not shaving.
"Simangaliso Maruva is an AB-(negative)" the doctor says yet again.
"I am a match. Can we do the transfusion now?" the white man says.
"Of course but firstly, you will be subjected to a number of tests to determine the
purity of your blood. Follow me please" the doctor says and the white man pushes
past us and follows the doctor. Something about the way he walks seems very
familiar. I don't k now where I have seen it from but I sure know it from somewhere.
We impatiently sit for about half an hour. A thousand horrific thoughts running
through my head but I quickly dislodge them from my brain through a silent prayer
that I say at heart. A prayer to God that pleads for Simangaliso's life to be saved and
that he not be disabled after the whole ordeal has died down.
As I pray, I wipe off my face, a string of tears that seems to flow endlessly from an
undying fountain in my body. Today I am the one sitting at this hospital, emotionally
and physically traumatized, saying a million prayers as I plead for the very same life
that I so wanted to terminate eight years ago as I sat in my room at the University
compass.. I had hoped that one day I would wake up to find out that I was only
dreaming and that I was not pregnant but that one day never surfaced. My best
friend bought abortion pills for me to terminate the pregnancy and I gladly drank
them. Six of them, to be particular and I got violently sick for a full week and still the
pregnancy was not terminated. Other girls advised that if I smoke too much and
drink alcohol and a whole lot of other concoctions, the pregnancy would be easily
aborted or become a still birth. I did as I was told, going on to even dance vigorously,
race up and down the staircases, run vigorously but still the pregnancy was not
aborted. The only hope that I had was that, it would be a still birth.
When delivery time came, I did everything in my power to deliver a dead baby. I
constantly shut my legs when the baby's head was coming out, when it had come
out, I delayed the push processes, despite the excruciating pain, just to make sure
that the baby was dead. The nurses would give me serious smacks on my thighs so
that I would stop my madness but I had a goal. When the baby screamed after it was
born, my heart shattered into a million pieces. All my efforts where in vain!!!! I had
delivered a healthy baby boy. Tears crystallized and condensed as I held the baby to
my chest, breast feeding. In my head, I was hearing my parents' voices reprimanding
me. I heard voices of them warning me about carrying myself in a good way and that
I had not gone to school for boys!
When my best friend and roommate came, she was shocked to find out that the baby
was alive and healthy and that's why she gave him the name 'Simangaliso' which
means 'miracle'. The only fear that I had was, what if he had stiff defects from all the
plans I had been putting in place. I really didn't want an illegitimate child, worse off,
a disabled one. That's why I gave him to the Malaishas to take him to Bulawayo. He
was only two days old when I took the decision to send him home. I hoped that he
would reach Bulawayo as a lifeless corpse that the hospitals would incinerate but
no, the boy was a survivor. He survived.
Thinking about that memory breaks my heart. How I now treasure Simangaliso. How
I wish he would survive this operation, for he is the joy of my world. The child I
dedicate Lauryn Hill's – To Zion. That song makes me think of Simangaliso and I play
it every single day as I drive to and from work...…
"Red?" a masculine voice says in the process jolting me from my thoughts. I look at
the man who is dressed in a blood-stained white shirt and jeans.
"Yeah, I am Red. What's the problem?" I question in alarm.
"You don't remember me? Antony Clarke?" he says as he takes a seat next to me,
causing my heart to drill through my ribs. This is just too much for a single day!
"I do remember you but what are you doing here?" I question him in total confusion.
"I am the owner of the riding school where the boy got injured. I am really sorry about
what happened." He says, causing anger to bubble inside of me.
"You are the irresponsible owner who lets the dogs out during the children's training
session?! If my boy dies, be sure as hell that I will get that fuckin' school of yours
closed down. I will also make sure that they evoke your license too because you sure
don't deserve it!" I say through gritted teeth.
"Look Red, it was an accident. The workers forgot to round up the dogs before the
children came for training." He says.
"Mistake my foot! My boy is fighting for his life and here you are telling me that it
was a fuckin' mistake! Mr Clarke, you have my word on this one. If he dies, I will
make sure that you are out of business for as long as I breathe." I say as my breathing
escalates and I burst into a silent sob.as the possibility of Simangaliso's death hits
me. It hits me so hard that for a moment, I run out of air. My breathing stops but
my heart is still beating. I stand up from my chair and I take a few steps towards the
exit of the hospital, as a way to get some air.
Antony catches up to me and he holds me by the hand
"Hey! Hey! Relax! Try to breathe. Relax and let the air in" he says. Despite the
venomous anger that I have at heart, I follow his instruction and I try by all means
to relax. The process of breathing resumes and I gasp for air as if I was holding my
breath. Antony rubs my back gently as my body adjusts.
"You have to take it easy on the emotions. Any mistake at this trimester, you might
lose your life or the life of that fellow growing inside you." he says.
"At this point in time, it's difficult. As long as I don't know how my son is, I won't find
the peace that I am supposed to have." I respond, my voice hoarse with emotion.
"He is going to be okay. For now can you please try to relax. Where is his dad? I think
he should be the one dealing with these issues, not you. Especially not with such a
condition at hand." He says.
"At this particular point in time, I am the one taking care of things. I am my own
woman and I don't need a man to take care of things in my life. I can manage despite
my condition." I say as venom sneaks into my body and I pull my hand out of his
masculine grip and I walk a few me steps away from him.
There is a void silence, which is broken by Antony.
"Look, I want to apologize for the incident with the little man. I just can't seem to
apologize enough or to find the appropriate words to, but I am doing my very best. I
have settled the hospital bills and I will foot his medical expenses in the hospital."
Antony says, scalding my feminine pride with the words that were supposed to
comfort me.
"You don't have to do that. I can take care of my own hospital bills!" I say to him.
"I am well aware of that but it's the least I could do to atone for the mistake that
jeopardized the boy's life." He says.
"My son is not a charity case! I can take care of his bills. How much did you use so
that I could return it back because I really don't want your money." I say to him.
"I am not donating it. It's a token of apology." Antony says.
"Unfortunately, I choose to reject that type of apology. Your words were enough. Now
how much did you churn out?" I question.
"I will sum it up when I get home and send you the figure and the account." He says.
"Thank you!" I say and after that I walk back into the hospital's waiting room, where
I impatiently sit, tapping my foot lightly on the floor as I wait for the doctors that
seem to be taking forever to get to me!