The Colours That Blind

by Rutendo Tavengerwei

  ‘Run!’ Ranga screams. This time I don’t freeze. Instead I push all my strength into my feet and run as fast as I can, following Ranga, who is sprinting ahead of me. There are screams floating all around me, ringing in my ears. I don’t know if my memories are wailing again, or if the others are screaming behind me. I manage a quick a glance behind me and see Jabu catching up. We run till we can see Ambuya’s homestead. Until our breath is stolen and all we can do is gasp. And as we reach the main house, rushing to get in, my mind is calm for a moment at the anticipation of safety. It is then that I realise that the screams can’t have been from my head. Because although I feel calmer, there is a whimpering somewhere behind me. When I turn back again to check on Jabu, my body shakes wildly like a dead leaf. There is blood everywhere on his shirt, and he looks as though his legs might just give way beneath him.

  48

  There is a feeling that I had the first few months after the police found me stuffed in a sack like a vegetable. A belief that I was locked out of my body, forced to watch it being devoured by fear and anger, yet unable to control or stop it. Unable to move, as though my legs had sunk in wet concrete. Much like now, as I watch Ranga hold Jabu with his brother and father, trying to help him into the neighbour’s car; Ambuya pacing all about the yard, hand over her ear as she talks to the police, and blood covering her shirt from where she tried to stop the bleeding from Jabu’s hand; and Mkoma …

  Mkoma’s here!

  I watch his confused and perplexed face as he drives into the yard, into this mess. I don’t think he sees me standing here by the bowing tree, because I see the panic on his face as his eyes take in the blood on Ambuya’s shirt, and then his gaze slides to Jabu’s back as he gets into the car.

  ‘Tumirai!’ he shouts, jumping out of the car before he’s barely even turned it off and running towards Jabu. My heart is pumping fast, but knowing that he’s here now sends a little courage seeping back inside me.

  ‘Mkoma,’ I shout, finally managing to drag myself towards him, though I think my shout sounds more like a whisper. When his eyes find me, he pulls me into a bear hug and I can feel the relief as he breathes it out on me. But even though he’s realised it wasn’t me who got hurt, there is still horror drawn onto his face. I watch it worsen as his eyes fall again on Ambuya, who is now coming over in her stained shirt, and my brother looks as if he might either retch or faint.

  ‘Ambuya, what happened? Are you all right?’

  ‘I am all right, mzukuru. It’s Jabu who has been hurt,’ she says, pointing to the car. There is sadness in her eyes and I think I know just how she feels.

  Mkoma glances at the wincing Jabu and then back at me. Jabu is trying so hard to be strong, although the pain is flushed red on his face. Yet regardless of the occasional whimper, I’m impressed at how he keeps trying to reassure everyone, especially his father, that there is nothing to worry about and that he is fine.

  ‘Did Bamkuru do this?’ Mkoma asks through his teeth, and Ambuya nods.

  ‘I’m afraid we have to go now. My boy needs help,’ Jabu’s father says with a little impatience in his voice.

  ‘Yes, we should get him seen to immediately. I will come with you.’ She turns to Mkoma. ‘Mzukuru, the police are on their way and they will need to speak to someone when they get here. Can I leave you with Tumirai and Noku? She is still asleep in my bedroom.’

  ‘Yes, Ambuya, of course. Go with them. We will take care of things here. Keep us informed,’ Mkoma answers her.

  As the car starts, I look down. I should probably have asked to go too, probably should have insisted that I had to, because Jabu is my friend. But my legs are shaking, my heart is pounding and the only place I feel safe is here with Mkoma.

  The car drives out of the yard and a torrent of shame washes over me. How could I be such a coward? What right do I have not to be hurt when this happened because Bamkuru was looking for me?

  ‘Tumi? Are you all right? You look like you are about …’

  Before he can finish, I am bent over the bushes close to the bowing tree retching away. Sometimes the truth doesn’t set you free. Sometimes it is a large banner reminding you just how messed up things are because of you.

  49

  Two officers are roaming around the yard, looking everywhere as though something will spit out information about where Bamkuru has gone. And a third officer is with Mkoma, writing something down, leaning on the car for support.

  My hands are still trembling, and I jerk every time a leaf rattles, afraid that Bamkuru will emerge out of nowhere and finish the job.

  Noku also seems unsettled. I don’t blame her. She woke up to police roaming around everywhere and me with blood on my shirt. She didn’t know it wasn’t from me. I’m surprised she didn’t cry, because if I’m being honest, I want to cry right now. Her little body is curled up next to me with her head in my lap, and we are both quiet as we watch Mkoma.

  The officer with the clipboard strolls over to me and I feel dread spreading through me like a deadly virus.

  ‘Tumirai, do you mind if I ask you a few more questions?’ he asks.

  I look at Mkoma. I’m not very keen on reliving this. It feels a lot like the time with the chickens and cabbages.

  ‘Where did you say you were when your uncle found you?’

  I look again at Mkoma as though he has the answers. He nods, telling me it’s all right to speak.

  ‘We, umm, we were coming from Jabu’s house.’

  ‘Right,’ he says. ‘And was it him you saw hacking at Jabu’s hand or the other man?’

  It flashes in my head. Not the hacking, because I didn’t see it myself. But the moment I realised that his three fingers were dangling there on his hand almost as though they would just fall off. I am still ashamed at how I just stood there, how even after he had been put in the car, I was too afraid to ask to go with them.

  ‘Did you see the hacking yourself?’ the officer asks again.

  I shake my head.

  ‘But can you describe the other man?’

  The man flashes in my head and my heart shivers.

  ‘Mkoma, can we go now?’

  Mkoma comes over to me and presses my shoulder. ‘It’s OK, Tumi. Just tell him whatever you remember, and we’ll be on our way.’

  I nod and try to describe what I can while the officer scribbles.

  ‘We think this man who was with your uncle is from across the border. That’s the problem, because here in this country –’

  ‘No! Don’t say that’s the problem, when it’s you who released from prison the man who tried to do this very thing before. You, the police, are the problem! Because what we’re talking about here is as good as attempted murder, and yet you let a man walk after only serving three years for the same crime!’

  Mkoma’s voice is beginning to rise a little, and I can see on the officer’s face that he is not happy about it.

  ‘We only do what we’re instructed to do, sir. We aren’t the ones who sentence people.’

  ‘You can’t even do anything! Because the men who did this are missing, aren’t they? Perhaps we should offer you a bribe since that’s the language you understand. Maybe then you might actually catch the man!’

  ‘It’s not going to help anyone if you start shouting and insulting us like this,’ one of the other officers says, walking towards us. ‘We’re only here to try and help you.’

  ‘No, ka, that’s what I’m refusing. Don’t tell me you’re trying to help us, when this is your job! You’re not doing us a favour here, my friend.’

  ‘Sir, please calm down,’ the officer tells him.

  For a brief moment I almost want to chuckle. I must give him this – Mkoma is quite entertaining when he’s upset. I wonder if he knows.

  ‘Calm down? When murderers are getting free passes from the prisons?’ He looks at me and orders, ‘Ay, Tumi, get your bags, and Noku’s as well.’ He turns back to the police. ‘We’re leaving. Because clearly the police have nothing to give bu
t apologies. Isn’t that right, officer?’

  50

  The furrow lines are back on Mkoma’s face. And when I glance at the mirror, this time I see them on mine too. Noku is asleep in her car seat, so still I have to put my hand on her chest to see if she’s still breathing. Mkoma has just got off the phone with Ambuya. She says they’ve taken Jabu to the hospital in Mutare and he is still in surgery. They’re trying to reattach his fingers. I see it play again in my mind: the banana leaves, the screams, the running and the blood-soaked T-shirt clinging to Jabu.

  I really hope he’s going to be all right.

  Trees whizz past us as the car speeds forward. I stare at my phone for a while, rereading the message that Musa sent a little while back.

  Tumi, good luck for tomorrow if you make it to the tryouts, man.

  I hate it when people say good luck. It almost makes me feel as though I really am in need of it. But maybe he’s being genuine and doesn’t mean it like that. And if Musa does mean I need luck, maybe he’s right. I don’t feel at my best any more, and my training doesn’t feel like it went anywhere. I can’t afford to lose this after how far I’ve come, but it somehow feels wrong to be worrying about swimming while Jabu’s lying on an operating table, fighting for his life. I look at Mkoma in the rear-view mirror and he still looks worried.

  ‘Do you think they’ll get him?’ I say.

  ‘I really hope so,’ Mkoma answers quietly. ‘Are you ready for your race tomorrow?’ He changes the subject.

  I nod and look out of the window. I shouldn’t be continuing on as though my friend didn’t just get hacked with a machete. It’s really messed up.

  ‘You better be,’ he says, his voice lifting a little bit. I look at the rear-view. I can see he’s trying to cheer me up, but it doesn’t erase the bags under his eyes, and I feel so bad about it all.

  ‘Because I took a whole day off just to watch you. And Saru is coming too.’ There’s a slight smile on his face. ‘And of course you know Noku will be cheering too in the stands, won’t you, my girl?’

  His eyes shift to Noku, who’s just woken up, sitting quietly in her car seat for once, stroking the cat in her lap.

  I’m still shocked that she managed to convince Mkoma that the cat would die if she left it. ‘You know how boys are, Daddy. He’ll just be there thinking I’m coming back, and when I don’t, he’ll starve to death,’ she’d insisted, and he’d been too defeated to argue with her. She should probably be a lawyer with that kind of determination.

  ‘I’ll be screaming loudly on top of my lungs for you, Tumi,’ she says, mouth wide open, showing her missing teeth as she demonstrates. Both Mkoma and I smile at the light Noku brings.

  ‘Mkoma, do you really think it wasn’t my fault what happened?’ The question spills out of me.

  Mkoma’s right hand remains on the steering wheel while he reaches back to squeeze my knee with the other one.

  ‘Hey, listen to me. This was not your fault, OK, Tumirai? Bamkuru is a … He’s … They’ll get him,’ he says finally. ‘And this time they’ll lock him up for good, do you hear me?’ I nod because I know it’s what he wants. But I’m not sure I believe him.

  The car begins to slow down and I crane my neck, trying to see why.

  ‘Daddy, why are we stopping?’ Noku asks, also trying to see what’s happening.

  ‘Looks like there’s been an accident,’ he says, indicating to stop at the side of the road. I push forward so I can see better. All I can make out is the back of a car pushed into the face of a big truck. There are a few people trying to help, some on their phones, perhaps calling the police, and others heading towards the three paramedics who arrived just as we pulled up.

  ‘Noku, stay here, all right? I’ll be right back,’ he says, pushing open his door. I step out of the car too, and follow Mkoma to where a small crowd has now gathered.

  ‘How can we help? I have first-aid training,’ Mkoma says to one of the paramedics.

  ‘We’re trying to get these two men out of the car without injuring them further. If you would please stand aside, sir, that would be the most helpful,’ one of the paramedics answers, as they start manoeuvring the driver of the crushed car out through the window as gently as they can.

  As I move closer to the collision, I can see metal crumpled up. The smaller car looks like it took most of the heat, and I wonder how they’re going to take out the passengers. The driver of the big truck is sitting on the side of the road with his leg bleeding. There is another paramedic tending to the man, who looks shaken.

  ‘They came out of nowhere, you know. They came out of nowhere and tried to overtake that car,’ he said, pointing to another car I had not noticed, now smashed into a tree.

  ‘The man was driving as though he was crazy. Just came speeding from nowhere,’ he repeated.

  ‘Try to keep calm, sir, the police are on their way,’ the paramedic reassures him.

  ‘Get some gauze from the ambulance, please!’ another paramedic calls to Mkoma as they manage to get the first man out of the car. I stand a short distance away, shocked by all the blood, my thoughts rushing to Jabu.

  ‘Hold his arm so we can make sure the metal doesn’t shred through his chest.’ He beckons to another driver who has stopped.

  I walk slowly to the other side of the collision, taking long breaths so the sight of it all doesn’t knock me over. Flashes of the blood staining Jabu’s T-shirt flood my mind and I think I might puke. I watch as the two paramedics carefully bring the man to the stretcher.

  ‘This one’s lost a lot of blood!’ the paramedic shouts. ‘Get me a bag, Doug! We need to load him into the ambulance and head out!’

  The stretcher passes by me and my heart catches fire. I think I see Mkoma walking from the other side of the road towards me, but as he reaches me, I dash to the bushes close by and hurl.

  ‘Are you all right, Tumi?’ Mkoma asks, his face knitted in worry lines. ‘It’s all a lot, I know. I shouldn’t have let you come out of the car,’ he says, rubbing my back. I take deep breaths, fighting to calm myself down.

  ‘Mkoma,’ I manage to whisper. ‘It’s him!’

  51

  I have never liked the smell of hospitals, because of how nervous they make me. They smell like strong detergent and bitter medicine, and I am convinced that if misery had a scent, it would stink like that.

  I sit on the bench in the waiting area next to Jabu’s oldest brother, who seems perturbed.

  ‘I’m going to go outside for some air,’ he says, his voice soft. I watch him head towards the door where Noku is, playing on the veranda with Ambuya and the cat. They wouldn’t let Noku bring the animal inside, and she kept insisting in her occasional accent, ‘No, Daddy, I’m not going anywhere oo-oo without Sah Lionel.’

  Sir Lionel – such a weird name for a cat.

  As Mkoma appears back from the bathroom where he’d gone, I watch him as the doctor stops. The doctor’s lips are moving very quickly and he keeps glancing at his clipboard. I can’t read the expression on Mkoma’s face, but I can tell from the way he has now folded his arms that he doesn’t like whatever he’s being told. My heart skips a little because I don’t know if it’s news about Jabu or Bamkuru.

  Mkoma calls to Ambuya and in no time they are both walking towards me with the doctor. I sit up and wait to hear what has to be said.

  ‘As I was telling your grandson here, Mr Mpofu has suffered a severe loss of blood. Now, routinely we would do a blood transfusion to replace the lost blood so we can tend to his other injuries, but there’s a complication. The type of blood he needs is quite rare and we do not have any in stock. As a result, we have not yet been able to give him any blood. We have been trying to communicate with other hospitals close by as well as with the national blood service to see if anything can be done, but it isn’t looking very good.’

  ‘Perhaps you can test my blood, doctor? I’m his mother. I probably have the same blood as him,’ Ambuya intervenes.

  Mkoma shakes
his head and sighs. The furrow lines are there again on his forehead.

  ‘Of course. If possible, I would like to get you all tested, depending of course on whether you are willing to donate. But as his family, chances are definitely good that he would have the same blood type as at least one of you.’

  We look at each other in silence.

  ‘Ambuya, I understand you have to volunteer, but I’m afraid I can’t let Tumi, or even myself, do this. We can’t forget what just happened.’

  Ambuya takes Mkoma’s hand in hers and presses it, trying to smile. ‘No one will hold it against you, mzukuru. Least of all me.’

  The doctor watches us for a while and then scribbles something on his clipboard.

  ‘Very well. I won’t force you to test against your will. A nurse will come and take you to the testing room, Ambuya, and we will determine what has to happen after that. I will keep you updated,’ the doctor says as he begins to leave.

  I chew the inside of my cheek and I can feel my heart pulsating in my ears.

  ‘I want to do it,’ I blurt out loud enough for the doctor to hear me.

  All the grown-ups are staring at me, emotions all mixed.

  I take a deep breath in and repeat myself. ‘I want my blood to be tested.’

  I don’t know why I said it, but I am not taking it back.

  52

  I glance over at the far right of the waiting area, where Mkoma is. He keeps nodding his head as though whoever is at the other end of the phone call will see it. It’s been an hour since Ambuya and I got our blood tested. Mkoma wasn’t pleased at first, but I can see him fighting with himself and trying to be supportive.

  Ranga has gone with Jabu’s brother and father to find something to eat. Jabu’s doctor came to say that they were taking him into surgery to try and reattach the fingers and it would be a while until they were done. I’ve been mumbling prayers ever since.