I look up at the TV fixed into the wall. There’s a game show and I try to pay attention to distract myself. It doesn’t work, and before I know it I am scrolling down my Instagram feed. The team is already in Bulawayo by the look of it, posting every picture with some cocky hashtag. I rub my forehead and watch as Mkoma dumps himself into the armchair beside me.
‘You know you don’t have to do this, right?’ he asks me.
I nod, eyes still fixed on my phone.
‘Tumirai,’ he says, reaching out for my shoulder. My eyes slide to him. ‘You really don’t have to do this. You owe Bamkuru nothing. They will eventually find another donor for him, and even if they don’t, that is not your problem.’
‘It’s only blood, Mkoma,’ I say quietly, trying to dismiss the conversation, but feeling as though if he says it one more time, I might just agree with him. If I’m being real, I’m not sure it is just blood, because it’s Bamkuru’s life I’m trying to save. And when I think about it, like really think about it, I shudder at my craziness, because he’s done some really messed-up stuff to me. But it’s funny how life works. How even though he denies me as his family, it turns out I am the only one with the blood type that he needs.
‘What about the try-outs? If we don’t set off tonight, we won’t make it in time for you to register before the race tomorrow.’
I’m not going to lie. I desperately want to walk out of here and not turn back. I want that spot in the national team so bad my heart is tearing apart just thinking about it. But there’s a small part of me that is stronger than the rest. And that small part is keeping me here.
‘No one is going to judge you for choosing swimming, Tumirai,’ Mkoma says, his voice a little stronger than before.
‘Mkoma, please.’ I try to keep my voice from shaking. ‘I have to do this.’
I can’t let Bamkuru keep holding power over me. And somehow I have a feeling that giving him my blood will take some of that power from him.
Mkoma sighs and leans back in the armchair, possibly tired of arguing.
‘Mkoma, do you think after the surgery Jabu will be able to use his hand normally again?’ I ask.
‘I don’t know, Tumi, but I really hope so.’
I chew on my cheeks and the dilemma sets in. How can I call myself Jabu’s friend, and then go ahead and give blood to the man who tried to kill him?
Ambuya walks towards us, holding Noku’s hand. She smiles as she sits on the other side of me, and we all just park there in silence for a while.
One of the nurses walks in and something about her makes me think of a younger Ambuya. In my head I can see her wearing the same uniform.
‘Tumi,’ the nurse says, smiling when she reaches us. ‘You can come with me now and we’ll get set up.’
I look at Ambuya first, then at Mkoma, as though I’m trying to get his approval.
Tumi, what are you doing? Bamkuru doesn’t deserve this!
‘Are you ready, Tumi?’ the nurse asks.
I look at Mkoma again, who squeezes my hand.
‘Yes, I’m ready,’ I say.
‘I will come with you and keep you company, mzukuru,’ Ambuya says as she gets up with me. I smile because I’m grateful for the distraction that the next part of her story will give me.
To be honest, even though I’m still fighting within myself about all this, I’ve decided I’m going to go through with it.
53
Ambuya’s story
A few weeks after we had buried VaGuhwa, I stood by the side of the road, staring at the wounded man Tawana had called me to attend to.
‘There’s a man who’s been shot! Thandiwe, please, Nurse Edwards has asked for you to come quickly,’ he had almost shouted from the gate of the farmhouse. Matthew, who had been working on the bas’s truck, took his attention away from under the bonnet and insisted he was coming with us.
And as I watched the deep red that soaked the wounded man’s torn shirt, I deeply longed to tell Nurse Edwards, to tell them all, that I knew nothing about nursing. I had not finished my training. Had they forgotten?
‘Thandiwe, hurry and press your hands on his side before he bleeds out,’ Nurse Edwards ordered, eyes focused on the man lying on the grass. I nervously knelt down beside him, opposite Nurse Edwards.
‘Press your hands here, Thandie,’ she repeated, pointing to the mess of red under his shirt. ‘You must hurry, otherwise we will lose him. He won’t let me touch him,’ she said with an urgency in her voice. My eyes stayed on the man’s face for a while, then I nodded and pressed one hand on top of the other, over the gaping wound.
‘I’ll be damned if I let him die without doing everything we can for him,’ Nurse Edwards said, tearing a strip of cloth from her sleeve and handing it to me to help stop the bleeding. ‘But we must get him out of here. Bring the wheelbarrow closer, Matthew,’ she ordered him.
Tawana looked up at the buzzing helicopter in the distance. I tried to keep my heart steady, not pressing too hard with my palms and paining the man’s torn skin. I repeated it in my head so I would not forget, even though I could hear Nurse Edwards spitting out the instructions clearly.
Wipe. Press down with his shirt to stop the bleeding. Feel for the pulse, but don’t remove pressure.
‘Move him into the wheelbarrow,’ Nurse Edwards barked at Matthew, who now just stood there.
He also looked up at the helicopter in the distance. He scratched his head. ‘Maybe we should leave if he’s not going to make it? What if they find us with him? Won’t they think we were helping him with whatever it is that got him into this state?’
We all looked at Matthew, trying to understand what he had said.
‘You want us to leave a man to die on the side of the road? You want us to stand up and walk away?’ Nurse Edwards asked, puzzled.
I continued to press on the man’s wound as he groaned, sweating beads of pain.
Tawana moved closer. ‘Help me carry him, Matthew. We’re not letting this man die,’ he said, ignoring Matthew’s hesitation.
The man screamed as though something had burned him, his eyes filling with anger as they alighted on Matthew.
‘It’s no use. He won’t let me touch him anyway,’ Matthew said. I looked up uneasily at the helicopter that seemed so close to us now, though we were partially hidden under the trees. If the forces found me here with a comrade, they would not let me out of the cell this time. And yet if the comrades found me with Matthew, it would be the end for us all.
Nurse Edwards winced and tried to conceal her slight panting.
‘Are you all right, Nurse Edwards?’ I asked, watching her.
‘We need to decide how to get this man into this wheelbarrow,’ she continued as though she had not heard me. Tawana leaned in and put his arm under the man’s back, signalling me to help him lift his weight.
The man screamed again and winced as he pushed Tawana off him with every bit of strength he had in him. ‘We should never have let you go. Now look at you, running around for the enemy!’ he spat at Tawana, now trying to stand up.
I frowned in confusion, as Tawana and Nurse Edwards exchanged a glance.
‘Tawana, what is he talking about?’ Matthew asked, his face tight.
Tawana ignored Matthew and continued to try to convince the man.
‘Comrade, we have to get you to the clinic or you’ll die here. We’re wasting time.’
‘Tawana?’ Matthew’s voice trembled. ‘Have you forgotten how they almost killed you? What is going on here? Have you brought them here, Thandiwe?’
‘Me? How could I possibly have brought this man here? Was I not at the house with you all day?’ I said, anger seeping into me and pushing my hands harder on the man’s wound, not feeling Nurse Edwards yank at my arm to remind me to calm down.
Matthew was still looking at me. ‘This is all your fault. They have become accustomed to coming here, because they know they’ll get help.’
‘Are they monkeys that you should speak of them as though they return
because they’re given food?’
‘They might as well be!’ he shouted, his voice carrying above the buzzing of the helicopter.
‘Just leave, Matthew! Leave and do nothing like you always do!’
My words struck him like venom from a snake, but he wasn’t finished.
‘You need to bloody stop acting like everything in this damn world is about you and your skin. I am getting tired of –’
‘Tired? What do you know about being tired? Don’t you dare judge how I fight death for the dignity of my life, while you stand there in the shelter of your privilege! Because you have no idea, Matthew! None! You have no idea about oppression, no idea what it feels like –’
‘Shut up, the both of you! Have some respect for the man! He is dying!’ Tawana burst out. We looked at him, embarrassed that we had demanded an audience to watch our world catch fire.
Tawana’s eyes were calm as he sat next to the dying comrade. Matthew and I watched in silence as his lips moved in prayer, words hidden in the breath of the trees. Nurse Edwards sat there, rocking lightly. Tawana’s eyes slowly shifted to me, then to Matthew.
We all watched as the comrade drank in his last sights of the world, pieces he would carry with him, before he left us. We sat there for a minute longer before Nurse Edwards pulled herself up and waddled like a duck that has had too much to eat, heading for the wheelbarrow we had brought from Bas Rogers’s. Once she had sat down, she panted steadily and looked at Matthew.
‘You’d better push this thing to the clinic as fast as you can. I’m not telling this baby she was born in a wheelbarrow!’
54
Dark stretched its hands towards us, reaching out and teasing our shadows. A small group of people formed outside, some standing and some seated, all waiting for the little Edwards to arrive. Tawana sat by the bench close to the clinic entrance with one of his crutches resting by his feet and Matthew by his side. I sat with Amai under the tree, nodding at something one of the women was saying, yet also preoccupied by all the dead bodies I had seen, and hoping that Nurse Edwards wouldn’t become one of them.
It felt like hours before Teacher Edwards stepped out, collecting all the gazes and attention and making the small group of men and women quieten down.
‘Thank you, everyone, for being here. Your support is immeasurable, especially in this unstable time.’ He paused. ‘We hadn’t known … The doctor says that Nurse Edwards is carrying twins.’
The crowd whispered among themselves, mostly exclamations of joy.
‘But there are some complications.’ He paused again and scratched his head. ‘We have one of the babies out, a boy. He’s a little weak so the doctor has put him in an incubator. We’re now hoping that Mrs Edwards and the other baby will be all right.’
The men and women gathered there took turns to embrace him and pass on encouraging words. I followed suit and mumbled something I thought might lift his spirits.
‘Can we see the boy, Teacher Edwards?’ Amai and another friend of hers from the village asked after the others had returned to sit under the trees.
‘They’re not letting anyone in, but I can have a word with the nurses,’ he said, leading us inside to one of the inner wards. Four incubators stood in the room, all but one beside a bed containing a dozing mother. We walked on behind Teacher Edwards, following him to the lone little incubator in the corner of the room. A nurse with a chart in her hand stood scribbling something. As we approached, she put down the chart and came to meet us.
‘We just want to take a peek at the baby, nurse. I hope that’s no trouble.’
‘That’s perfectly fine, Mr Edwards. But I’m afraid there are too many of you. Baby can’t have too many visitors at the moment. Perhaps just two of your guests could see him?’
I nodded and excused myself, whispering to Amai that she should go on without me.
I leaned against the wall close to the big open window outside which Matthew and Tawana were sitting. There were just a desk and some chairs in the room with me, and in the ward nearby I could see a few patients sleeping in the beds.
Teacher Edwards’s voice trailed in my direction as he walked out of the ward, still speaking to the nurse inside. ‘… out soon, I hope.’ He sounded full of stress.
‘Stay strong, my friend. We’re all here praying,’ came Tawana’s voice. I could see part of his reflection shining on the open frame of the window.
‘Tell me about something lighter perhaps. What have you boys been up to?’
I watched Teacher Edwards turn sideways to face Tawana and Matthew.
Tawana chuckled, looking at Matthew. ‘It’s this one who’s still in denial,’ he said, nudging him.
‘He still thinks it’ll all go away, eh?’ Teacher Edwards chuckled.
I frowned, unable to decipher what it was they were talking about.
‘Oh, are we doing this again then? You two ganging up on me?’ Matthew’s voice intervened.
‘Because you’re acting like a little boy – isn’t that right, Mr Edwards?’
‘I couldn’t have said it any better myself,’ he answered, and the two men laughed.
I kept my silence and drew in closer.
‘I’m sure you heard our little brawl the other day, Mr Edwards? It’s no use. Whatever I say, she despises me and blames everything on me.’ Matthew fell silent.
I leaned back. Were they talking about me?
I pressed my body closer to the wall and tried to remain hidden.
‘And from your little performance today, I might as well say the same about you, don’t you think?’ Tawana asked lightly.
‘You don’t understand, there’s just such ill will between us now. There’s too much to forgive. Perhaps things that can’t be forgiven. It feels as though we’re trapped in our opposing positions.’
There was a brief silence. My eyes followed Tawana’s reflection as he leaned in further to face Teacher Edwards.
‘I saw one of the comrades who beat me up today,’ he said.
I frowned again, wondering why he had changed subject.
‘Yes, I heard. But from what I heard, it was more than you just seeing him,’ Teacher Edwards answered softly.
Matthew spoke up. ‘Still can’t believe you tried to help a man who almost killed you. You didn’t forget about that back there, did you?’
Tawana’s face became serious. ‘When we first saw him, Nurse Edwards and I –’ his voice became hoarse as though refusing to come out of his throat – ‘when I saw him lying there, blood gushing out of the tatters of his skin, and him trying to muffle his groaning pain so the flying helicopters wouldn’t hear, as if they could …’
He breathed some of the heaviness in his throat away.
‘When I saw him there, I grabbed Nurse Edwards’s hand and hissed that she should not leave me alone with him, because I was sure of it, sure that if she did, I would choke him to death with my bare hands.’
‘Yet you still insisted we save him.’ Matthew shook his head.
‘Because in spite of all I felt in that moment, I had to choose. I had to choose whether or not to be imprisoned by my anger. I had to choose whether to let it control and torture me, to be the thing that defines me. And only God knows how I made my choice, because nothing in me wanted to.’
‘So you’re biting it all down?’
‘I am feeling it all and choosing with every fibre of strength I can manage, not to let it lead me. The way I imagine it is that one day you’ll look at yourself in the mirror and will have to answer for the man you’ve created. We will all have to. This hate must end here, even though my pain disagrees with me and my insides still burn with rage. But if we’re not careful, we’ll keep brewing this war, and watch it devour us all.’
Silence.
Nurse Brenda emerged from nowhere and whispered something to Teacher Edwards, who quietly excused himself and headed back inside with her. I couldn’t hear everything they were saying, but I managed to catch some of the words that flew betw
een them.
‘… my cousin who is in Umtali … agreed for me to stay with her … return back home to England … won’t press you about this … safer for us all if we leave.’
‘… suppose you’re right, Brenda … might have to relocate … see if things will improve …’
I don’t know why I lingered there. It was as though I felt the words building up in Tawana and needed to hear them. And sure enough he spoke again, this time to Matthew.
‘You need to sit down and listen to each other, both of you. It is all I can hope for you, my friend. I have no answers, but I do know you cannot mend what you ignore, nor can you heal wounds you refuse to acknowledge exist.’
I stood there a while before allowing my back to slide down the wall, leaving me sitting on the floor with salty tears on my lips.
In that moment, the sound of screaming filled the air as a young boy sprinted towards one of the teachers in the small group waiting outside. I immediately got to my feet and hurried over. The boy was panting, a note held in his hand. Tawana reached out, took it from him and quickly scanned it, one hand holding the paper and the other covering his mouth. He looked up at the small group of men and women who had now crowded around him.
‘The comrades say the missionaries have five days to leave the mission … otherwise death is coming their way.’
Silence! A paralysing silence that ran its fingers down all our spines. A silence so threatening that the poor nurse who dashed outside to bring us the good news of Nurse Edwards’s second baby was only met by a stillness that stared her in the face.
55
The morning after Teacher Edwards’s babies were born, I stood by the Missus’s stove, exhausted. I had not gotten a wink of sleep, thinking of what Tawana had said to Matthew, and of the bad news the young boy had brought for the missionaries.
As I reached out to turn the pan of chicken on the Missus’s stove, the loud chugging sound of the bas’s engine choked as the car drove in. I hovered by the kitchen doorway, listening for footsteps and eyeing the sizzling pan to make sure the food didn’t burn. For a moment, only the wind whistled through the front door. Then finally the bas’s voice punched through the silence. I could hear the traces of alcohol in it as he ordered someone to leave him alone. I peered out just in time to see him topple on the veranda stairs and cuss while he sat there, stranded. After briefly hesitating, I skittered towards him to see if I could help. The Missus stood a little way behind him, seemingly annoyed.
The Colours That Blind Page 18
