The Colours That Blind

by Rutendo Tavengerwei

  ‘I heard they caught you in Umtali. What did you tell them?’

  ‘Nothing, comrade,’ is all I managed. Chido fidgeted, and by the wince she tried to mask, I knew I was holding her too tight. I loosened my grip and prayed that my heart would stop thudding in my ears.

  ‘Your brother, you know where he is?’ Bullet said, turning his back to me and reaching for a piece of meat on a skewer turning by the fire.

  My brow furrowed and I shook my head. ‘I thought he came and joined you.’ Why was he asking me about Farai? What had happened to him?

  ‘Bingo here says you do know. Don’t you, Bingo?’

  A short, sheepish comrade whom I assumed had to be Bingo looked at me and smiled.

  ‘Sure do,’ he replied sharply, showing missing teeth that I thought had been knocked out fairly recently.

  ‘So then, Thandiwe, let me ask you again. Do you know where your brother is? Because Bingo here says you do.’

  I looked behind at Chido who sniffed, trying not to sob aloud.

  My insides turned in fear. ‘Comrades, please. The child is frightened now,’ I pleaded.

  Bullet circled around us, his boots striking the hard, rocky ground of the cave. My heart jumped at every beat.

  ‘You know what we do to sell-outs, Bingo?’

  ‘No, comrade, tell me,’ Bingo said, smirking.

  ‘Let me ask Thandiwe here. What do we do to sell-outs, Thandiwe?’

  ‘Comrade, I know nothing. Please!’

  There was an excitement in Bullet’s eyes. One that feasted on the fear in mine. And I wondered to myself whether it was still the cause he so passionately fought for. Or if the war had scrambled his mind and convinced him that the power that intoxicated him was now the new cause.

  The comrades over by the map had resumed their muttering, pointing and speaking.

  ‘Bullet, I think we have something.’ One of the comrades held up a radio receiver.

  I watched Bullet strut over and listen. There were showers of static as though the signal had been interrupted.

  ‘The signal is a bit weak but it sounds like one of the forces’ officers speaking. We think he’s giving orders, maybe the next hit? Maybe a location?’ another comrade explained to the serious-faced Bullet, while a third tuned the radio, searching again for the signal.

  ‘Find that signal again. I want to know what those fools are up to!’ Bullet hissed, towering over them. Just then the radio caught the signal again and a voice I recognised came through the waves. I frowned in confusion. Phillip?

  Bullet turned a knob, increasing the volume.

  ‘… the package been suspended? Over,’ said Phillip’s voice.

  A brief crackle followed before another voice, seemingly far away, intercepted.

  ‘The package has been dropped on site, sir. Over.’

  One of the comrades passed the receiver to Bullet, who held it a while longer, waiting to hear more. But there was radio silence.

  ‘Find out what that package is, Bingo! I want to know what they’re planning! The rest of you, get ready to move!’ Bullet snarled, before his eyes glided to me. ‘You know he’s one of them now, your brother? I hear he fights for the white man like he is one of theirs.’

  I stared at him quietly, my mind reeling, wondering what Farai possibly could have done.

  ‘Tell him, when you see him, that the comrades always have the last word.’

  He nodded to another comrade standing close to us, who grabbed both our arms and led us out of the cave. My heart shuddered as we marched, moving quickly through the trees. A short-lived relief flared within me as the comrade dumped us close to the river, near where we had left our clothes. I watched the comrade go back into the trees and disappear, and as my head turned, the child broke into a loud shrill scream.

  It was the feet I saw first, dusty ashen feet swinging. And as I looked up, my knees gave way. It was the same brown suit with cream stripes but creased this time. The shirt he had worn was now pulled up and bunched awkwardly in his armpits. A rope clung tightly around his neck, wound up on the branch where whoever had done this had tied it. The package had been suspended.

  44

  We somehow got home, shaken, Chido sobbing and her hand clenched tightly in mine. I walked on, fighting to make it to the kitchen hut. It felt as though I was held together poorly, like with old tape. It was the first time, mzukuru, the first time that I had ever seen the lifeless, dull eyes of a dead man. A dead man in a suit they had bought for him! A suit he had gotten for selling out his kind. And now the security forces had somehow found a reason to kill him because they could, because there was no one to stop them, no one to question them.

  As we walked onto the homestead, all that greeted us was silence, as though word of the horror had reached home before we did. The sun had begun to retire and Baba’s dog already sat by the door of the kitchen hut.

  ‘Stop sobbing! People will hear!’ I hissed at Chido as I pulled her along, heading into the kitchen hut.

  I could hear Amai’s voice as we approached.

  ‘… if not for your useless theories. Now look what’s happened.’

  ‘How could I possibly have arranged this, Mai Thandiwe? How could I have known? And anyway, is this not the reason we should keep fighting?’

  ‘Fighting for what? I have had it with you feeding my children to –’

  ‘Baba,’ I started. They both went quiet.

  ‘Why is she crying? What happened, Thandiwe?’ Amai asked, moving towards Chido, who broke out into hearty sobs and threw herself into Amai’s arms.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked again.

  ‘They’ve killed VaGuhwa,’ I spat out, my voice trembling at the sound of the news coming out into the open.

  Amai and Baba exchanged glances.

  ‘Who told you that?’ Baba asked.

  ‘We saw him close to the river, hung there like a sack of manure.’

  Amai turned to see if there was anyone outside before pushing the door closed. Her voice was quieter than a whisper.

  ‘I think it’s what he was saying yesterday. Remember what I was telling you, Baba Thandie?’

  ‘I heard Phillip order –’

  ‘Shh!’ Horror was painted over Amai’s face. Her hands had begun to tremble. ‘You know nothing. You saw nothing. You heard nothing. This is how you stay alive, you hear me?’ she hissed, now holding my hands in hers.

  ‘Mai Thandiwe, take the child to the bedroom hut where the others are and try to have her calm down,’ Baba said quietly.

  Amai nodded and headed out.

  He looked at me. ‘You do as your mother said, you hear me?’

  I nodded in silence. My eyes then glided to the sheet of paper still in his hand and I questioned him with my eyes. He sighed, signalling for me to come sit next to him on the ledge. He handed me the letter and my eyes jumped from word to word.

  ‘It can’t be true! Is it true, Baba?’

  If I had not seen it for myself, I never would have believed it. The comrades were right?

  ‘But can they force him to work for them?’

  ‘You forget, my child, the world we live in. There is no choice for the African man; there are only orders to be followed.’

  I swallowed. So many questions ran through my mind. How had Farai lost his platoon? How had the security forces captured him and forced him to work for them? Why did his letter insist he was all right?

  ‘Baba …’ I hesitated. ‘Do you think we will see him again?’

  Baba sat there for a while, thinking, then stood up and walked out of the kitchen hut. It was in that moment that I knew to prepare my heart and stay watchful for news, for it was possible that we might never see my brother again.

  And, mzukuru, it was a feeling that stayed with me even after the men dumped VaGuhwa’s body in a shallow grave. I remember standing there thinking of the comrades, praying that they would not come and punish us for Farai’s involvement with the forces. Praying that we would not all
end up in a shallow grave like VaGuhwa, branded sell-outs and without anyone to mourn us.

  I kept wondering how they had captured Farai. How they had convinced him to turn his back on his platoon, on his people, on the cause.

  My heart beats now, mzukuru, as I remember all the danger that crawled around us like cockroaches hunting for crumbs in Amai’s kitchen.

  45

  Tumi

  I listen to Ranga snore through the night. I am afraid that if I close my eyes I will see Bamkuru’s face in my nightmares. Not that anything stops him ruining my peace of mind even when I am awake. My head is packed with worry. I cannot help but fear for Jabu, alone out there where Bamkuru is lurking.

  ‘Ranga,’ I whisper loudly.

  He groans and I wait to see if he’ll wake up, but when he doesn’t, I call him again. He pushes past the sleep to open his eyes.

  ‘What?’ he says, panicking and looking around the room, perhaps to see if Bamkuru has come.

  ‘We should go find Jabu,’ I whisper.

  He yawns and sits up. ‘It’s late. We’ll see him in the morning. Besides, Ambuya spoke to the police about Bamkuru, remember?’

  I think about this for a while, not convinced. Ambuya did speak to the police, but I am sure that whoever the police are, they are at home, sleeping. I am afraid that there is no one watching, keeping Jabu safe. I feel as though I am responsible for him.

  I glance at my phone and stare at the early-morning hours dancing on my clock. Two days until the try-outs, but I’m not sure how to fit that worry in with the others.

  ‘He’s going to wait for me at the river, bruh, I know it. We were supposed to run today.’

  ‘Why would he though? He’s not dumb enough to do that. We told him, didn’t we, that Bamkuru might come?’

  I shrug. This would be much easier if Jabu had a phone so we could call and warn him. But this is the village – not everyone can afford one.

  Ranga mumbles to himself then clicks his tongue. ‘Fine, let’s go. Why must you be all fancy, wanting to run up and down mountains? He-ee, look at me, I swim. He-ee, I run marathons!’ he says, as he pushes his feet into some old shoes under his bed. I know he is complaining because he is grieving his sleep, but I don’t for a second doubt that he wants to come. I can see it in the way he hurries to put on his shoes.

  I grab my running shoes and sit on the bed. I’m not sure if I’ve said it before, but I’m afraid.

  I think Ranga can tell, because he is staring at me in silence, waiting for when I am ready. The house is silent and I can hear myself breathing. Outside there is a mist masking everything. The darkness is there, waiting for us to enter into it.

  46

  Ranga and I walk very close to each other, afraid that if we leave too much distance something might grab and take us. Ranga is in front, walking slowly as though he is testing the ground to make sure it doesn’t swallow him. He turns back and hisses, ‘This is a terrible idea, man. We should have told Ambuya.’

  ‘You said everything would be all right though.’ What I don’t admit is that I agree with him.

  ‘Ah! Me? When did I say that?’ he says. A branch swishes in front of us and we both freeze. A monkey swings past and we almost hug in relief.

  ‘Bruh, you said it, when we were walking Jabu home in the rain – you said everything would be fine,’ I remind him. He must remember it, for the both of us. Perhaps everything really will be all right if at least one of us believes it.

  ‘Eh, me, I was just saying what people say in those situations. I’m not God. How am I supposed to know if things will be all right? I’m just a boy also, I don’t know anything,’ he says, crouching as he moves forward.

  I stop and go over his words in my head before bursting out in a laugh that startles him.

  He looks at me, confused.

  ‘You’re just a boy?’ I say, laughing, almost forgetting that I’m more afraid than he is. I watch him as he thinks back on what he said and lets out a little laugh as well.

  ‘Man, I just want to get out of here.’ He continues to edge forward. We are in the thick of trees, halfway to Jabu’s house.

  We carry on walking.

  ‘This is ridiculous. We should have told Ambuya,’ Ranga says again. I look behind us to make sure we’re not being followed. The sun is slowly beginning to lift its eyelids. I can tell from the light that is pouring into the morning, revealing the colour of the banana trees that circle Jabu’s family’s homestead.

  ‘That’s it,’ Ranga says, pointing and picking up speed. I hurry after him.

  There is silence when we reach the homestead, as though there is no one there. I follow Ranga as he heads to the back of the huts towards the kraal.

  ‘The cattle are still here. Hopefully he’s still sleeping,’ he says, moving to one of the huts in the middle where he knows that Jabu and his brothers sleep. I stand aside as I watch him push the door forward and tiptoe inside. After a minute, Ranga steps out with one of Jabu’s older brothers and I find myself holding my shredded hopes in my hands.

  ‘Jabu left a little while ago. He went running,’ the boy says, wiping sleep from his eyes.

  Ranga and I look at each other. There is a sickening in my stomach.

  ‘How long ago?’ I ask.

  ‘I don’t know exactly, but maybe an hour or two. What’s happening? Why are you looking for him so early?’ The brother heads to the back to open the kraal. Ranga and I follow him in silence, as though he’ll suddenly produce Jabu.

  ‘My uncle –’ I stop there.

  Jabu’s brother frowns in confusion, waiting for me to continue, but the words are jammed in my throat.

  ‘What are you two doing here?’ Jabu’s panting voice emerges from the other side of the kraal. Ranga and I look at each other in relief. Jabu is soaked in sweat and his brow is shiny. I cannot wipe the grin off my face.

  ‘See? I told you, didn’t I, mfana? That everything would be all right,’ Ranga says, beaming just as much as I am.

  47

  As the three of us continue back to Ambuya’s, my phone flashes and I see a green bubble with a message from Mkoma, saying he is now driving here from Harare. Judging by the time stamp, he should be here in a couple of hours. I can’t wait to leave this place and make headlines at the try-outs. The whole St Catherine’s team, all of them, won’t know what’s hit them.

  Jabu is yapping away, as always, walking backwards in front of me up the slope from his house through the banana leaves, towards the main road where we’ve been jogging lately. Right now it seems absurd that I was once so worried that I couldn’t sleep through the night. But even so, I am really relieved he is all right, that everyone is. We are teasing each other and laughing as we walk up the hill when the banana leaves move, somewhere on my far right.

  ‘What was that?’ I say, withdrawing my laughter from the rest. I don’t think the others hear me because they march on, tagging and teasing as they continue. My eyes search among the banana leaves and, though I don’t see anything, a shiver spreads through my spine as I hear a crack somewhere close.

  ‘Guys, do you hear that?’ This time my voice is plump with urgency.

  The boys quieten for a second, but after nothing comes out, they soon start again, chatting away as we continue up the incline. I have a sick feeling inside me, as though we’re being watched. I keep turning my head, trying to convince myself that I have made it all up and there is nothing.

  ‘We should walk faster. There’s something in there,’ I say, pointing to the thicket of banana trees ahead of us. Ranga and Jabu listen for a while. I can see the fear seeping into Ranga’s eyes. Only Jabu seems completely unsold as he bends down and picks up a long stick lying on the ground.

  ‘See? Nothing here,’ he says, poking at the banana leaves. ‘You two need to stop with this panicking. It’s beginning to drive me crazy.’ He continues on past the thicket.

  Ranga turns to me and shrugs. And although I am following them now, there is a quickening i
n my heart that convinces me that something is about to go down.

  There is movement again in the trees behind us, and before I can turn to see what it is, I freeze at the piercing screams coming from Jabu. Two men are now standing in front of us. One has in his hand a machete, and the other one …

  I can’t breathe.

  The other one …

  My knees weaken and my heart thuds harder. I can hear the chickens clucking in my head again and suddenly it is as though I am right back there in the sack with the cabbages.

  ‘Bamkuru,’ I say under my breath, trying to repel the word out of existence.

  ‘There you are. I’ve been eager to see you again,’ he says, his face dark and his voice thick. ‘My, my. There’s two of you now, I see. The ancestors will surely bless us for cleansing double the filth off the earth.’

  Run! my head screams, but I am shaking and can’t move.

  Jabu tries to bolt, pushing past the two men, but before he can go far, the man with the machete grabs hold of him, and his arm locks around Jabu’s neck.

  ‘You didn’t think you could escape me, now, did you?’ the man says, his grip tightening.

  Bamkuru begins to approach me, but without a word Ranga and I exchange a glance, and as though we have said everything we need to know, we both charge towards the two men, kicking, biting, punching.

  I pick up a fallen branch and manage to scrape at Bamkuru’s eye, leaving him yelping as he falls to his knees. Ranga’s punches force the man with the machete to release Jabu from his grip. They struggle for a while, the man now gripping Jabu’s hand in his while the poor boy tries to free himself and avoid the swinging blade.