The Hairdresser of Harare

by Tendai Huchu

  ‘Do you mind if we sit down for a minute?’

  ‘But I want to show you the house.’

  ‘We can do it later. My feet are killing me.’

  ‘Let me guess… You walked all the way here. Some things never change.’

  Fungai had a weird theory that he should walk everywhere. There was no way of discouraging him when he made his mind up on something. He claimed that, as a ‘philosopher,’ walking brought him closer to the ‘truth’. When pressed on the matter he would claim that there was a natural state for all things to be in. Cars were unnatural and because they moved unnaturally fast, one couldn’t see the world for what it really was. When walking, one was closer to the world and observed it more closely. I didn’t agree with this romantic theory, which meant that he would never find himself outside of the city unless… It was too crazy to even contemplate.

  We sat down under the shade of a musasa tree in the garden. A soft wind wafted the sweet scent of its green flowers towards us. The swaying leaves made a gentle rustling sound. Maidei came out with a glass of water and greeted him. He drank it in one gulp and asked for another.

  ‘So you have a maid now. You look like a little madam sitting there having everything done for you.’ I prayed that he would not launch a tirade about the evils of capitalism and exploitation.

  ‘I’m glad you’ve come, even if you are going to tease me!’

  ‘I would have come sooner but I have been busy at the university.’

  ‘They let you back in?’

  ‘No, with them it’s all about money. Some lecturers allow me to sit in during their classes. The librarian is a friend and he lets me in though he doesn’t allow me to borrow books. I make a bit of money writing essays for students who can’t do them themselves.’

  ‘One day we’ll have enough money for you to finish your course.’

  ‘Pah, I don’t want to.’ A bitter smile flashed across his face for a split second. ‘All that matters is accumulating knowledge. I’m thankful I can still do that at least.’

  ‘You applied for that scholarship at Fort Hare. Maybe it will come through.’

  ‘Everyone knows they only give those to people with connections.’

  We were silent for a while. He was right. A lot of things depended on who you knew and our family was as unconnected as you could get. Maidei returned and gave him some more water. I thought he might be hungry so I asked her to cook dinner right away.

  ‘We’re almost out of firewood,’ she said as she left.

  ‘I will take care of it.’

  ‘It’s funny how we seem trapped between modernity and the past. We have power lines yet half the time no electricity runs through them. We have cars, but no petrol to run them on, mobiles but the network is intermittent.’ He picked up a blade of dry grass and played around with it. I loved to listen to him. He always sounded so intelligent. In a fairer world he would have become someone important, a teacher maybe.

  ‘How’s the rest of the family?’

  ‘They’re fine. Nothing has changed.’

  ‘How did the memorial go?’ I asked. It was a roundabout way to ask what the family was saying about me, and Fungai knew it.

  ‘It went well, all things considered. Uncle Mhandu managed to get a nice tombstone for Robert — black granite with gold lettering. Maybe one day you and I can go and see it together.’

  ‘There’s no way I’m walking all the way to Mbudzi with you.’

  He laughed. ‘They’re still as divided as ever about this whole issue. I asked them if a house was worth losing a daughter and a grandchild over. And I get the feeling that they know they’re wrong, but they can’t say it. In our culture a parent does not apologise to their child. You know that already. But there is something you could do to smooth things over.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Apologise.’

  ‘Like hell I will. I am not the one in the wrong here. I made an effort to see them at the memorial and they turned me away like a dog. As far as I’m concerned that was the last straw. You’re my only family now.’

  ‘Don’t say things like that. Blood is sacred.’

  ‘Says you, the one who doesn’t even believe in God.’

  ‘Just because I don’t believe in a Judaeo-Christian white vengeful deity does not mean that I have no conception of right and wrong. Doesn’t the Bible say, ‘Honour your father and your mother, that your days may be long in the land that the Lord your God is giving you.’ Exodus 20, verse 12. ‘Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right.’ Ephesians 6, verse 1. I could go on you know.’

  ‘That’s not what I’m trying to say.’

  ‘The point is whether they were wrong or not in this, they’re your parents and you must make peace with them. It’s you who has to make a move.’

  ‘What of Takesure and Knowledge?’

  ‘I don’t care about them. They’re your siblings. They’re young and have long to live. It is baba na amai that are important.’

  ‘I am not ready yet.’

  ‘Swallow your pride.’

  Chiwoniso came running and leapt onto his lap. ‘Uncle Fungai, what have you brought for me?’ He hugged her and laughed.

  ‘Greet your uncle properly.’ I told her.

  ‘Oh come on, leave my niece alone.’

  ‘She has to learn to do it the right way otherwise one day she will embarrass me.’

  She clapped her hands and said, ‘Makadini Sekuru Fungai.’ He smiled and replied, ‘Ndiripo wakadini hako muzukuru.’ He gave her a bar of chocolate, which she opened and ate right away. If only I had had loving uncles in my day.

  She was still in her blue and white school uniform so I sent her away to change. I was angry that Maidei had let her go off to play in her uniform. It was expensive and I couldn’t afford to get her another one if something happened to it before the year was out. The sound of her tiny voice singing as she went to the house calmed me.

  ‘I can’t believe she still remembered me.’

  ‘She’s a clever girl.’

  ‘Like her mother.’

  ‘I think she takes after her uncle there.’ We laughed and reminisced on the old days and gossiped about the new. When you are away from family for so long, it is amazing just how much you miss out on.

  The tour of the main house was a success. In a way the spirit of Robert lingered as if he wanted us all there, together, as one family before he could finally move on. Fungai agreed with me and said that he felt it too. I offered him a room for the night. He told me that he fancied staying for a bit so that he could work on the garden and help out. The cottage had remained an anti-climax. The broken windows gave it a rundown appearance like something from a ghost town. Broken glass crunched under our feet as I showed him round.

  ‘What happened here?’

  ‘Mukoma Knowledge and his family.’

  ‘You mean they just vandalised the whole place and you didn’t tell us?’

  ‘I have never had a chance to. I will fix it up one day when I get the money.’

  ‘You could rent it out to a small professional family. This is losing you a lot in potential dollars.’

  Thirteen

  The white Mercedes pulling up on the driveway reinforced my ego. Despite everything that had happened I still had the number one client. There were few people who got close to a government minister, let alone touched one. As she emerged from the car, my lips moved involuntarily of their own accord. She walked as gracefully as her weight would allow and Mrs Khumalo moved forward to greet her.

  The minister was wearing a green African dress with a matching head wrap, both of which had pictures of Robert Mugabe imprinted on them like large polka dots. It was the design they had used during the last election campaign that had seen the party back into power. I shuddered when I remembered the youths in party T-shirts who terrorized Budiriro, beating anyone who was suspected to be a member of the opposition. The minister entered and I gestured for her to sit in my chair.<
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  ‘Not today, Vimbai. I want that young man to do it,’ the minister declared.

  I thought I’d misheard her, so I said, ‘Beg your pardon.’

  ‘I’ve heard of this fine young man from my secretary. You know Mrs Ndoro? She comes here sometimes. Rumours are going around the city that you have competition, Vimbai, and so I wanted to see for myself.’

  ‘Only the very best for the minister,’ said Mrs Khumalo smugly.

  My head was swooning. If I had not held on to one of the dryers I would have collapsed. This could not be happening. It felt like some sort of a nightmare, the one that comes like a daydream when your eyes are awake and you can’t discern fact from fantasy.

  Agnes was sniggering along with Yolanda. My knees felt wobbly so I crossed over to the cash desk, sat down and poured myself a glass of water. My entire career flashed before my very eyes.

  ‘Come on, Dumi, let’s see you work your magic.’ Mrs Khumalo encouraged him because he was rooted to the spot, looking my way. There was a hint of pride in his face. I bit my tongue until I could taste the warm trickle of my own blood.

  ‘Stand up, Vimbai. We have clients waiting.’

  Dumisani had convinced the minister to go for braids. They had bantered for a bit with her insisting she was too old for that sort of look, but Dumi prevailed. Mrs Khumalo frowned a bit because they took in excess of five hours to finish. For the chair to be tied up that long meant losing money.

  As usual, Dumi had a trick up his sleeve. He took the extensions and plaited them in just a quarter of the way and left the ends loose. His nimble fingers danced on top of her head for an hour until the last one was in place. I had never seen anyone work so fast with braids before. The minister looked at her face in the mirror and blinked arrogantly. It was the type of vanity a woman her age has when by sleight of hand she is made to look ten years younger.

  ‘What do you think?’ Dumi asked, standing aside and admiring his handiwork.

  ‘I think it looks lovely.’

  ‘It brings out your smile.’

  ‘You’re trying to charm me. I am as old as your mother.’ She tried to leave the chair but he held her down.

  ‘I am not finished yet. That’s just the hair. Now let me give you style.’ With that he took the head wrap she’d worn and unbundled it. He grabbed a pair of scissors and cut it in half, right through Robert Mugabe’s face. Mrs Khumalo tensed and held her breath. The one piece he folded in two lengthwise and placed over her head, tying it round the back. He cut through what remained of Mugabe in the other piece and rolled both of them. An almost imperceptible smirk lingered on the minister’s face as Dumi did this. He tied the pieces of cloth around the minister’s wrists as little bow ties.

  ‘I don’t know where you found this boy, Mrs Khumalo but this place will go far. I am going to tell the other ladies in the Women’s League that this is the place to come. I am telling you — you will be swamped with customers.’

  We were already swamped with teachers, businesswomen, nurses, accountants, secretaries, bankers and now, as if that wasn’t enough, we were going to be swamped with politicians. The way Mrs Khumalo looked at the walls said she was thinking of expanding the building once more.

  The minister admired herself in the mirror, paid her dues and left beaming, her soul on cloud nine.

  The day ended with Mrs Khumalo at the cash desk drinking a bottle of Fanta and arranging the bundles of money that were in a box. Yolanda and Memory were sweeping hair off the floor. I got my bag to leave when Dumi started to speak.

  ‘How about a pay rise?’ he said, in his usual soft-spoken manner.

  ‘Excuse me?’ Mrs Khumalo replied, putting her bottle down on the table with a bang.

  ‘I said a pay increase would be nice.’ He was unfazed.

  The girls who were sweeping stopped to watch. Even Charlie Boy strained to hear the exchange.

  ‘You have been here less than three months and you already want a pay rise. I hope you remember you are still on your six month probationary period.’

  ‘I have been here three months and look what has happened. Your clientele has more than quadrupled. Revenues have gone up.’

  ‘I don’t know where you are coming from but have you got any idea what it costs to run this salon? There are bills and rates to pay, not to mention the cost of the chemicals, which has gone up too,’ Mrs Khumalo retorted angrily. ‘You’re so ungrateful. There are people out there who would bite your arm off to have your job for half the pay you are getting.’

  ‘Have you been on a kombi lately? The cost of living has gone up for us too and I think it is only fair that you give us a pay rise or else…’

  ‘Or else what?’ Mrs Khumalo raised one eyebrow.

  Dumi shrugged his shoulders and headed for the door.

  ‘Wait.’ She reached out for him. ‘Perhaps you’re right. Let no one say the Khumalos are not fair employers. I want you to understand this is not because of any threat you can make. It is because I care about your welfare, all of you. I will give you a fifty per cent increment starting next month. How about that?’

  ‘Inflation is too high. I say a hundred and fifty per cent with immediate effect.’

  Mrs Khumalo let out an involuntary groan like a woman stabbed in the back. ‘A hundred per cent, take it or leave it.’

  ‘With immediate effect?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Dumi looked to the other girls, who tried hard to contain their delight, and then he looked at me. I was in turmoil, one half of me envious and the other delighted at what he had pulled off for us.

  ‘We have a deal then. See you tomorrow morning.’

  The sun was setting as I walked through the jacaranda tree-lined streets from Baines Avenue to Leopold Takawira. Traffic was light today because petrol shortages were back. The few petrol stations that had any were rationing. I hoped I would be able to get transport all the same.

  ‘Hey wait up,’ a voice called out to me.

  I pretended not to hear and carried on. A set of footsteps pounded on the pavement and caught up with me.

  ‘Hey Vimbai, didn’t you hear me?’ said Dumi, panting.

  ‘The traffic’s too loud.’

  ‘I think you just thought I was a stalker. Listen I’m sorry about the whole thing with the minister today.’

  ‘Don’t apologise, it’s nothing at all. I’m kind of getting used to it.’ My voice sounded gruff.

  ‘I would never consciously try to take away your clients Vimbai.’

  ‘That’s not what it looks like to me.’

  ‘At least let me try to make it up to you.’

  ‘How?’

  He was silent. I began to walk away from him but he grabbed my shoulder. I stopped. He looked into my face and did that puppy thing with his eyes, which he pulled on clients in the salon. Stupid me!

  I heard myself saying, ‘Great work with the pay rise thing. I need the cash.’

  ‘I need it badly too.’

  ‘What for if you don’t mind me asking?’

  ‘It’s a long story, but let’s say I was staying in Avondale with my Canadian friend, and now that he’s left us, I can’t afford the rent, so I need to move somewhere by next month.’

  Stupid me!

  I did not like Dumi, or rather what Dumi was doing to me, making me feel second-best — me the best hairdresser in the salon — and yet I heard myself saying, ‘I was actually thinking of letting a room out at my place if you are interested.’

  Fourteen

  It was not long before Dumisani moved in. I made him pay a modest deposit in the full knowledge that it would be eroded by inflation after the first month or two he was there. It all happened so quickly. I had never before expected a man to live in this house. The few days Fungai had stayed over, he left the toilet seat up and that was enough to drive me mad. What of this man, who was going to live with me for God-knows-how-long.

  The day he moved in, I was surprised by just how much stuff he brought with
him. For someone so young, he would hardly have had the time to accumulate all this gear. His TV had a 32-inch plasma screen so I moved my tiny Toshiba into my bedroom. He had a coffee table with a glass top and we put that in the lounge too. His radio was a massive Panasonic five CD changer. There were dozens of kitchen utensils all of which were superior to anything I had. The microwave was a welcome addition. I had never used one so Dumi taught me how to, reminding me never to put anything metallic in it. I banned Maidei from using it. It was too complicated for the stupid girl.

  The sheer amount of clothes that he owned astounded me. His wardrobe was five times larger than mine with heaps of fashionable clothing that I had never seen in this city before. The toiletries that he put into the bathroom dominated the entire space. He had a dozen sweet-smelling perfumes, aftershave, imported bathing foams and shower gels. I hid my local stuff because it looked pitiful by comparison. He explained to me that the reason he had so much was that his Canadian friend had left a lot of things behind with him, because it was too expensive to send them back to his family.

  ‘We’re gonna have a blast living together.’ He gave a boyish grin.

  The extra money that I was going to get from him would go some way in helping me with the bills and other things that I needed around the house. It was an unusual arrangement for a single woman to take in a male lodger, but I was freed from having to consider the feelings of my extended family. I could do what I liked and I didn’t have to care for my reputation either, because I didn’t want a man in my life. Ms Independent.

  Dumi proved himself to be a considerate housemate. The toilet seat was left down. He washed the bath-tub after use and even helped Maidei with cleaning the house every so often. He was handy too. The first day he saw the cottage he went into action sweeping up all the broken glass. ‘It might hurt the children,’ he’d said. When that was done he got some clear plastic covers that Chiwoniso used for her exercise books and used them to cover the windows up. It was great having a handyman about when the light bulbs needed changing.