Anala looked at Vaida from head to foot and back again.
“Apart from the makeup, you look exactly the same.”
“Maybe I look the same because of the makeup.”
“No. You would look even better without it.”
“Hey, it comes with the job. I have to dress the part. It has become a habit, even when I am not working.”
“Of course. In some jobs you must dress the part, even when the customer is not there to notice. That’s why I’m still in my overalls at three in the morning. Please come in.”
The trailer was larger than some homes in Harare’s poorer neighbourhoods. It was much better furnished than most of them. At the far end was a large bed with a closet at its foot. Beside the bed was a desk with a lamp looking down on a thick ream of papers. In the middle section were two comfortable sofas. Their backs ran parallel to the walls of the trailer. A coffee table was planted between them. Immediately to the left of the doors was a filing cabinet that rose to the ceiling. Directly opposite was a large chest of drawers that rose half as high. A few picture frames were arranged neatly on top of it. A large overhead lamp harmonized the decor under a warm blanket of uniformity. The only missing feature was a set of windows. The omission had been intentional. Anala was the largest stakeholder in MSG. Her privacy was priceless.
Before he left, the man who had escorted Vaida from the gate beckoned Anala to the back doors. He raised himself onto the bottom step and whispered into her ear. Anala listened intently then nodded. The man shut the doors behind him and left the women alone.
Vaida sat herself on the sofa without invitation. Anala settled in the opposite one. The women studied each other in silence.
“So, you pummelled Edith with a tree branch?”
“She gave me no choice, Anala. But I was told she won’t take it personally?”
“Hopefully. Let’s give her the next hour to calm down. For now, I must apologize. It was my fault. Your welcome did not unfold as I had planned.”
“What do you mean?”
“I knew you were coming, but I could not meet you at the gate myself. I cannot be seen with you. We are living in one of those times.”
“A time when a friend in need may become a friend deceased?”
“Yes. I can take care of myself but I am worried about you. Before you even left Harare, my friends in Gondo told me that you would be visiting. Luckily, I have seniority in the network. I have the privilege of receiving certain information before most others. I also enjoy a limited number of vetoes that I can use to prevent the sharing of information with others further downstream. We call the vetoes ‘Informational Thromboses’. I.T. for short. I used one of them last night. I learned that someone with access to the Gondo network wanted you followed. I became concerned when I found out who had taken the job. This individual is known for overdoing assignments. He has a habit of forgetting the difference between following someone with his eyes and manhandling them with his hands. I don’t know whether that is why he got the job, but I was not taking any chances. I used my last IT of the year to prevent news of my counterattack from spreading throughout the Gondo network.”
“You sent Moses?”
“Of course. Bless his murderous soul. Last night, we received confirmation that you were to be intercepted by two people just before you drove into Beitbridge. The man was supposed to kill you. The woman was to take your car and drive it out here. She was to present herself to us as my old friend Vaida. The people who sent her knew I would be too cautious to meet you at the gate myself. They also knew that I am the only one who could recognize you by face, as none of my staff have ever met you. If the impostor was allowed in, we would have been in trouble. This is not the first time these people have tried this trick. The last time, Edith dealt with the problem in a special way. Tonight, I asked her to wait for you at the gate. I knew that Moses had handled the situation. However, in my business, it is always wise to adopt redundant safety measures. I wanted Edith to make sure you were not the impostor.”
“By threatening me?”
“Yes. As you saw, Edith is built to inspire feelings of impending death in everyone she confronts. I told her to only admit the visitor who threatened to fight her despite their overwhelming disadvantage. If the person tried to negotiate or threaten her with a weapon, Edith would know the visitor was not you. Unfortunately, you clubbed her before she could explain that you had passed the entrance exam.”
“I hope she is still not sore at me?”
“Well, I am sure that she is sore in the head. But she will get over it ... One day.”
“Would you ask someone to escort me to my car when we are done?”
“I was planning to. Edith nurtures her grudges like children. She may be feeling worse by the time you leave.”
“Thank you. I hate to think what would have happened if that man had not come to my defence. I owe him special thanks.”
“Not too special, Vaida. That’s James. My son. Remember him?”
Vaida clutched her chest in shock.
“That was James? But he is a full-grown man! He was only six years old the last time I saw him.”
“He was. Children have a habit of growing up without your permission. Sometimes, life speeds up the process even more.”
Vaida shook her head in disbelief. She had been there when James was born. The boy had been fathered by one of her clients. Vaida remembered the night that a mild-mannered man had knocked at her door many years ago. He pretended to be lost. Vaida indulged him by suggesting he spend the night at her place. The man demurred. Vaida insisted. The area was not safe. A prisoner had escaped from Mazambuko Maximum Security Prison earlier that week. He had been spotted in the neighbourhood the previous day. After a symbolic protest, the client agreed to stay the night. Anala was available.
* * *
I Am in Love with an Aspiring Hangman
Anala had started MSG after her husband was murdered by jealous business rivals. She obtained solace through vengeance, and found healing by living on the road. Some fish must keep swimming in order to stay alive. The friction between their gills and the passing water allows them to absorb oxygen. To live. If they remain still for too long, they drown. Anala often claimed that she did not want to suffocate in the stagnation of a fixed abode. Her nomadic home was the perfect sanctuary for such a widow. But for those who knew her well, it was a tribute to the impermanence that constantly reminded her that happiness was the interval between two tragedies. But Anala was not a cynic. Her life had been the textbook case which real cynics cited to justify their outlook.
Vaida propelled her attention away from the depths of the past. When she bobbed to the surface, she found her friend watching her with a patient smile.
“Welcome,” said Anala.
“Thank you for having me,” replied Vaida.
“Would you like some tea?”
“Yes, please.”
When the tea was ready, Anala poured some for Vaida. The host helped herself to a mug-full from another kettle. Vaida knew it was cold. Anala had taken it that way since the day her husband was murdered.
“So who was tracking me?” asked Vaida.
“Customers.”
“Yours or mine?”
“They probably have one foot in both camps. I suspect they used their own IT to block my inquiries into their identities. According to Moses, they knew enough to reach our front gate. Only clients would know how to do that.”
“Well, this place is a little out of the way but it can’t be that difficult to reach? Surely, anyone could wander down here if they took the wrong turn.”
“No, they could not,” replied Anala. That was that.
“So you ‘also move things’ for customers who are paranoid about my movements?” asked Vaida.
“No. We also move things for customers who have good reason to be worried about your movements.”
“Are you worried?”
“Yes. I knew you would visit unannounce
d. So did they. This was long before you even decided to make the trip.”
“How could you possibly know I would visit after such a long time?”
“Do you doubt me, Vaida?”
“I would never doubt you, Anala. I’m just surprised by your powers of prediction.”
“Don’t confuse predictability for prediction, Vaida. I don’t need to be a fortune teller to read an open book. I only need to be literate. Right now, I am not the only person who has taken a literary interest in your affairs. Your other readers had plans for you that I cannot bring myself to share. That is why I sent Moses to help. He doesn’t play well with others. In fact, he kills them. That’s why he has no friends. However, these traits are a blessing when he uses them in your favour. Moses is good at dividing things. Tonight, he paved a safe path through the sea that would have swept you into the darkness. His intervention may have involved dividing someone’s head in two, but I cannot confirm that.”
“But—”
“You are welcome, Vaida.”
“I apologize, Anala. I should have thanked you first.”
“Thank Moses.”
“I thank you both.”
“I will relay your gratitude. Moses is an effective friend.”
Anala took a sip from her mug.
“So tell me, Vaida. Who is he?”
“Who is ‘who’?” replied Vaida with a frown. “Are you talking about Moses? You know more about him than I do.”
“I am not talking about Moses. I am asking about the man that you need help with. The man who made my friend predictable.”
“What man?”
Anala rolled her eyes. Vaida sipped her tea and looked away.
“How did you know?” she asked.
“Your eyes betray a sadness that only a worthy man can conjure, but never solve.”
Vaida looked down into her mug and said nothing.
“He is married.”
“Yes.”
“Well that is the least of your problems, and the greater part of his.”
“How much do you know about him, Anala?”
“A lot.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Please stop playing games, Anala. Just tell me what you mean.”
“I have heard many strange things, which I am sure have something to do with him. However, I know little about the man himself.”
“Apart from the fact that he wants to become Zimbabwe’s new hangman?”
“Yes. And that my good friend has fallen in love with him.”
“I have not. I care about his safety, that’s all. He is a good man who doesn’t belong in the world of Tongai Gejo.”
“Vaida, it doesn’t matter how much time has passed. I will always know when you are lying to me. Good friendships are like bicycles. Once you figure out how to ride them, you don’t have to relearn the mechanics, even after years of abstinence. Good friends always start where they left off.”
“Well I never learned to ride a bicycle, and I know nothing about abstinence.”
“Your response only proves my point. You always become evasive when you are forced to confront vulnerability. Usually, I would simply tease you and let it go. But now, we are swimming in more consequential waters. Please tell me what happened between you and this Abel Muranda.”
Vaida explained. Anala listened attentively. The narration was punctuated by the croaking of distant frogs. When Vaida was done, Anala took the first sip of tea she had ingested since the beginning of the story. The brew had been cold to begin with so the taste was unaffected.
“‘Contrast’? I have never heard it described that way before. I am trying to imagine a client walking in and asking to see my ‘contrast’.”
Vaida shrugged.
“Well, he didn’t ask to see my ‘contrast’, but I showed it to him anyway. It made no difference.”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” said Anala with a smile. “Contrast makes all the difference.”
“What do you mean?”
“Abel Muranda saw through the fog that usually blurs the judgment of your regular clients. He spotted the difference between what you wanted him to see and what he knew was really there: trouble. You did not expect that a man with such poor eyesight would see with such clarity. He caught you off guard. You were faced with an unfamiliar condition for which you had no immunity. These things happen. Novel challenges can force you to respond with muscles that you have not strengthened through exercise. But flex them you must. It may take longer than usual, but you will overpower your challenge.”
Anala walked over and sat beside her friend.
“You have been through a lot, Vaida. You can overcome this as well.”
“But that’s the problem, Anala. The most difficult challenges are those that your heart does not want to overcome.”
Anala rolled her eyes dutifully. She did not want to encourage Vaida’s foolishness, but she could relate to her dilemma.
“I have spent my entire life on the defensive, Anala. I invested years in building a persona that can make any man feel loved, respected, admired. I can move seamlessly from being a best friend to a sister, mother, priest, tyrant and whore. If my clients need it, I will provide it. I have become so good at it that I begin to feel unstable when I remain the same person for too long. That’s why I hardly take vacations. Without the needs of my clients to distract me, I am terrified that I will be trapped in my own mind with a stranger who will hold me hostage until I tell her who she truly is. I refuse to be left alone with that person. The thought of self-definition is terrifying. Constant adaptation has become a permanent trait of my character. It is the only muscle that I have worked on with the discipline of a bodybuilder. Then this Abel Muranda walks into my house and remains unimpressed when I flex it ...”
“Maybe you are confusing a bruised ego for love?”
“You think I am confused about everything, don’t you?”
“Well, sometimes different stimuli can produce the same outcome in our brains. Maybe your desire to conquer this man is manifesting as love?”
“Thank you, Dr. Anala. But even if you are right, the outcome is still the same. I cannot help feeling the way I do.”
“Maybe not. But when the true cause of your problem is superficial, it is easier to find a solution. As I said before, consider your experience with this man as a vaccine. The principle is straightforward. Vaccines introduce a weakened version of a disease into our bodies. This allows our immune systems to study the enemy while its hands are tied behind its back. The defences our bodies build with that knowledge prepare us for the day the germs return with greater strength and in larger numbers. The principle works against biological viruses as it does with emotional ones. The night Abel Muranda spent in your house was a vaccine. You are supposed to adapt, not succumb to it.”
“If so, whoever created the vaccine did not weaken the virus enough. It won’t respond when I beg for release.”
“Don’t beg. Fight. People fend off illnesses all the time. Use brute force if you must.”
Vaida turned her gaze to the carpet. Anala reached out and gently redirected her friend’s face towards her own.
“Vaida, I will not lecture you about pursuing married men. I will even admit that though I have never met this Abel Muranda, I truly feel for him. We both know what it’s like to compromise ourselves for the benefit of our loved ones. You know that I would use all my power to rescue someone in a difficult position. You know that, right?”
Vaida nodded.
“But this situation is different. Abel Muranda is a good man walking into a mess he does not understand. Remember what happens to angels that wander into hell?”
“Many things.”
“Exactly. None of them are ever pleasant. None involve leaving the place with a convert, or leaving at all. Vaida, good men who wander into our world always attract bad outcomes, including for those who fall in love with them. Abel Muranda is stuck in the centre of a web th
at was built by the fiercest spiders in hell. Anyone who tries to rescue him will be devoured … insides first. So ask yourself this question: Would you be content if you lost your life trying to protect a man you can never save and who will never love you back? Are you willing to become the first course in a feeding frenzy? That is what will happen if you continue to chase this man.”
“I am not chasing him. I am just trying to protect him.”
“Same thing. Either way, the most you will get is a painful and symbolic death.”
Vaida placed her mug on the table and pushed it away.
“You don’t like your tea?”
“It’s lukewarm.”
“Well that’s a good reason to stop drinking it. If you are lucky enough to survive your pursuit of this man, you will be drinking it cold and alone for the rest of your life ... Whatever is left of you, anyway.”
Before Vaida could respond, a banging sound filled the night.
“Hide in that closet!” yelled Anala, pointing towards the far end of the trailer. Vaida obeyed. Through the darkness she heard the door of the trailer fly open. Harsh whispers were exchanged with the person on the other side. The banging returned with greater fury. From what Vaida could tell, it was coming from the main gates.
Five minutes later, the night was quiet once again. Vaida heard someone enter the truck and approach the closet. The person stopped just shy of the door. Vaida felt around for a weapon. Surely Anala kept a lethal object in her closet? After all, she “also moved things”. Unfortunately, Vaida’s desperate grasping was met by the coarse texture of canvas overalls. She closed her eyes. Death had come sooner than expected.
The door suddenly swung open. Anala was standing there with a blank expression.
“Are you okay, Vaida?” she asked.
“Yes! What is going on?”
“Nothing. We took care of it.”
“What was it? Why didn’t you say anything when you came back into the trailer? I thought you had been harmed. I thought they had come to punish you for helping me.”
“It was nothing of the sort. But tell me, how did you feel inside that closet?”
“Guilty! I felt horrible for putting you in danger! Why would you want me to live through that? Even for a minute?”
The Hangman's Replacement: Sprout of Disruption (BOOK 1) Page 28
