Diamond Boy

by Michael Williams

  “My father’s at the tobacco sheds. I’ll find out tonight. Okay?” I said, laying my hand on his arm. I noticed Kamba jerking his head in my direction. It was time to go. “See you later, Arves. I’ll be back.”

  “Yah-yah, just like in the movies, right?” he said. “Now listen, don’t let my granny scare you. She might speak funny but she knows a lot of stuff. Don’t get her talking about your ancestors and shit. She’ll keep you there for hours. Remember, she lives in the photocopying room. At the end of the corridor. My meds are in a little red tin. They’re underneath my mattress. There’s enough there to last a month. Tell her I’m fine and as soon as I can I’ll bring her Chinese sweets.”

  “Chinese sweets?”

  “Footy Pops. That’s all she likes. She hasn’t got many teeth but one of them is a real sweet tooth. She’s obsessed with Footy Pops,” he answered, smiling.

  Chipo was up and moving silently through the tent toward the toilets. “Okay, Arves, I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” I whispered, and moved out into the pouring rain.

  When I got to the toilet, I glanced over my shoulder. A soldier stood under the tarpaulin smoking a cigarette, looking in my direction. I opened the makeshift door to the corrugated lean-to, closed it, and crawled through to the back of the toilet where Kamba and Chipo were digging furiously through the mud.

  “Come on, help us,” whispered Chipo as she scooped handfuls of mud from under the fence.

  Kamba pulled out a pair of oven gloves and slipped them on. “Standard issue for army chefs and easy to steal,” he said with a grin, grabbing the razor wire and hauling it out of the earth.

  Chipo wriggled into the channel she had dug and carefully made her way under the wire. Once she was through, she knelt down and kept her eyes trained on the camp.

  “Keep your back down, Patson,” she whispered as I made my way under the fence. Kamba passed me the gloves, which I slipped on, and I lifted the razor wire while he wriggled through.

  We were outside the camp for the first time in a week, crouching in the mud, waiting for any sign that our escape had been noticed. The camp was quiet, except for the rain splashing in puddles, pounding down on the tents, and beating out a rhythm on the iron roof of the toilet. I slipped off the oven gloves and laid them next to the channel, held down with a rock to keep them from floating away. I would have to get back through here by myself later on tonight.

  “See you later, Chipo,” said Kamba.

  “You know I’m not coming back,” she answered. “From here on, you boys will have to look after yourselves.”

  “Bye, Chipo. I’ll see you around, Kamba,” I said.

  He nodded to me and then we each ran our separate ways, knowing how unlikely it was that we would ever see each other again.

  The door to number six tobacco shed was ajar. The lightbulb above the door flickered and all was quiet at the sheds. I crept up to the entrance and peered inside. Loud snoring came from the first mattress and I recognized the bulk of Prisca. I slipped past Kuda and there was Jamu sleeping next to his mother. Had he been here the whole time? I looked around the shed once more. There was no sleeping body that looked like my father, or the Wife, for that matter.

  I walked slowly, deeper into the shed, the dim blue light of my phone creating a halo in the darkness, afraid that I might trip over my sister. And there, at the end of the shed, in the darkest corner, where the damp tobacco smell was at its worst, I found Grace lying asleep on the ground. The small things of her life—her toys, my father’s briefcase, the book I had given him—were packed neatly around her, as if guarding her from the world. The Banda family must have taken her mattress. She was lying on a grass mat, with one of her soft toys as a pillow, and hanging above her was Boubacar’s white tie.

  I crouched beside her and gently stroked her arm.

  “Grace,” I whispered. “Wake up. It’s Patson.”

  Her eyes opened slowly.

  “It’s me.”

  “Patson,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “Where’s Baba?”

  Disappointment overwhelmed me as the tiny hope that I would find my father safely here with Grace turned first to dismay and then dissolved completely into nothingness. I needed him so much, in ways I couldn’t even tell Grace. But the truth of his absence was inescapable and crushing: If my father were still alive he would have come back for Grace.

  “He’s hiding from the soldiers,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll come soon.”

  She sat up and threw her arms around my neck. “They told me such horrible stories about the soldiers,” she said. “They beat Uncle James and Musi and took them away. Auntie Prisca said Baba was killed by the soldiers. Is it true, Patson?” Her voice trembled and I hugged her back, pressing down my urge to cry. That would come later, when I was alone.

  “Shhh. We don’t want to wake anybody. No, it’s not true. Baba is alive. I’m sure he must be hiding but I came to tell you some good news,” I said, gently taking her arms away from my neck.

  “What is it, Patson?”

  I glanced behind me. The shed remained quiet and dark. The rain must have stopped. There was no pounding on the roof.

  “Look, Grace, I’ve found two,” I said, taking off my shoe, and slipping out the plug to shine the light from my phone into the cavity. The rain-stone twinkled white and blue.

  “Is it a diamond?” asked Grace, her voice rising.

  “Shhh. Not so loud,” I said, quickly replacing the plug and putting my shoe back on. “Two diamonds, Grace, but you mustn’t tell anyone. Once Baba comes back we will leave. Go back to Bulawayo, maybe Harare—”

  “Or maybe South Africa,” said Grace, excited, her eyes bright. “Look, Patson.” She pulled down the dress that hung from a hook. “It’s my Girl Guide uniform. Determine said there’s a jamboree in South Africa. He wants to take us all there.”

  “Where did you get this from?”

  “Determine bought it for me,” she said, biting the bottom of her lip. “I used some of Baba’s money. It wasn’t a lot. We’re all going. Sidi and No Matter and Maka.”

  I flicked through the pages of the book. Most of the money was still there. Quickly I counted out thirty dollars and stuffed the rest of my money deep into my pocket.

  “How much did you give him?”

  “Only twenty dollars, Patson. It was very cheap.”

  It was a fortune. Grace didn’t understand that these American dollars were worth thousands of times more than Zimbabwean dollars.

  “And he gave me a packet of sweets,” she said, pulling out a bag of Footy Pops.

  “No matter what he tells you, don’t give him any more money. Okay? Did you hear me?”

  “Okay, Patson. But we’ll need money for the bus—”

  “No more money to Determine, Grace.”

  “I heard you, Patson. Have a sweetie,” she said.

  I took a handful and stuffed them into my other pocket. Arves would be pleased to hear about the Footy Pops. I pulled down Boubacar’s lucky tie and slid the three ten-dollar bills inside its widest part. “Now listen, Grace, there is over a billion Zim dollars in there. Promise me you will only use it in an emergency. And that you won’t tell anyone about it.”

  Her eyes widened as I handed her back the tie. “A billion Zim dollars,” she said.

  “Do you promise?”

  “Yes, I promise, Patson. And look, I know how to use my phone now. I’m not a child anymore,” she said. “Didn’t you get any of my Mxit messages?”

  “There’s no reception on the mines,” I said, pulling out my phone and checking the screen. The yellow low-battery light blinked. I had mail. Grace had sent me a string of messages. There were several from Sheena, too, but they would have to wait for later. “Are they treating you okay?”

  She paused, looked over my shoulder, and dropped her head.

  “Grace?”

  “I miss Baba, Patson. And you. I don’t like it here anymore. Everyone’s frightened of the soldiers and they hate living in
the sheds.

  “Auntie Prisca’s mean. She makes me work all the time and she pinches me. She says I’m a nuisance. Kuda’s kind to me, but she’s afraid of Auntie Prisca now that Uncle James is on the mines. Auntie Prisca calls her the has-been second wife,” she said, in a way that suggested that the two women’s bickering had escalated now that Uncle James was not around.

  “Where’s Sylvia?”

  Grace rolled her eyes, leaning forward, as if imparting secret information. “Auntie Sylvia was allowed to stay at the farmhouse,” she whispered. “When the soldiers moved in, she didn’t come to the sheds. Kuda and Prisca talk about her all the time. They don’t say very nice things about her. I think they’re jealous.”

  “Patson?”

  I spun around at the voice behind me.

  “What are you doing here?” Jamu asked.

  “I’ve come to see Grace. I thought my father might be here.”

  “You don’t know?” he said. “They didn’t tell you?”

  “My father’s hiding.” I gripped his arm and pulled him away from my sister. “He’s not dead. Meet me outside. I’m coming now.” I waited for him to leave before turning back to Grace.

  “Now, listen carefully, Grace, I have to go back to the mines for a while—”

  “But why, Patson, you’ve found your diam—”

  I put my hand over her mouth. “You can’t tell anyone about that, Grace. It has to be our secret. You’re good at secrets, aren’t you?” I said sternly. “It won’t be long and I’ll come back for you. We’ll find Baba together and then leave Marange. You keep Mxiting me, okay?”

  She nodded and I saw tears brimming, but she hurriedly wiped them away. “And keep what’s in Boubacar’s tie only for an emergency. There’s a lot of money there. You’ll be fine.”

  She nodded, her head on her chest. “I don’t like it here, Patson. I want to leave. I don’t like to be alone,” she said, her voice trembling. “Can’t I come with you now?”

  “No. Not tonight. But soon. I promise. And remember, you’re not a little girl anymore. You can wait for me. It won’t be long.”

  A tear rolled down her cheek. I hugged her again and she held on to me fiercely with strength I didn’t know she had.

  “I miss Baba, Patson, I miss him so much,” she whispered.

  And before she could see my tears, I turned away and left her to the dark and the damp, stale smell of the tobacco shed.

  Jamu was waiting for me outside. He was full of questions but I was worried he would wake up Prisca and Kuda, so we walked down the muddy path. Without the rain, the earth was singing with the sound of crickets and frogs.

  “You’re going back to the mines, Patson? But why?”

  “Arves is sick. I have to bring him his meds. I can’t leave him there. What do you know about my father, Jamu?”

  He shook his head. “They say he was shot, Patson. On the first day.”

  “Who said that?” My voice cracked with anger.

  “Musi. He said he saw him fall. Later, they took the bodies away in trucks and dug a mass grave.”

  “Have you told Grace?”

  “No. But I think Prisca did. I’m so sorry, Patson.”

  I would not hear it. “It’s not true. I asked Musi. He said he didn’t see my father. He was not on the mines the day the helicopters came. He’s lying, Jamu. He’s lying!”

  “So many people were killed, Patson—”

  “Not my father,” I said, staring intently at him. “You understand, Jamu, not my father.”

  “Okay, okay,” he said, shaken by the anger in my voice. “What are you going to do now?”

  “Get Arves his meds and look for my father, and then I’ll come back for Grace. We’re leaving Marange,” I answered, realizing how much I desperately wanted to get away from this place.

  But one step at a time, I thought. First the meds.

  “Arves says you’ve found a girazi. Is it true?”

  I shook my head. “Arves is wrong.”

  “You can tell me, Patson. I can help you sell it.”

  “I haven’t found anything, Jamu.”

  He didn’t believe me. “You know you can’t trust the soldiers. Look what they did to my father and he’s James Banda.”

  “How come you weren’t on the mines the day the soldiers came, Jamu?”

  “I… um… I can’t remember,” he stuttered. “I don’t think I was feeling very well—”

  “Don’t talk crap, Jamu. Your father knew the soldiers were coming. He kept you home that day. You could have warned us.”

  He raised his hands helplessly. “I wanted to, Patson. Honestly. But the soldiers were here already and—”

  “I’ve got to go. I need you to keep an eye on Grace.” It was no use talking to Jamu, and I didn’t have any more time to waste on him. “Don’t let the warthog bully her. Promise me, you can at least do that?”

  “Yah-yah. She’s safe with us. Don’t worry. But listen, Patson, about your girazi—”

  “I’ll see you later, Jamu.” I turned away and ran down the path.

  As I ran past Kondozi Farm loud music blasted away the after-rain stillness of the night. I stopped and looked up at the farmhouse. Lights were on in the lounge and two army jeeps were parked in the driveway. I don’t know what made me do it, but I slipped through the fence and darted across the front lawn, looking out for any guards that might be on the veranda. Once I had worked my way behind the large bougainvillea, I climbed up onto a ledge and peered through the window.

  The Wife was dancing for Commander Jesus.

  She wore an unbuttoned army shirt, a pair of high heels, and a red bra that barely contained her breasts. She swayed from side to side, turning slowly around in time with the music, sipping occasionally from a glass. Commander Jesus lay sprawled on the couch in shorts and a white sleeveless shirt, a bottle of whisky between his legs. He looked no less dangerous without his mirrored glasses as he drank from the bottle, his eyes fixed on every sensual movement of the Wife dancing for him in his army fatigues.

  I wasn’t surprised to see her with Commander Jesus. Once again the Wife got what she always wanted: a powerful man who could give her everything. She couldn’t change who she was and the Wife always knew how to make the best out of any situation. It was obvious that when the soldiers came, the Wife would find a way of looking after herself. My father must have known that their marriage was over when she had chosen to stay at the farmhouse. The Wife had replaced him for the favors of her brother, and now Uncle James had been replaced by Commander Jesus. It all made perfect sense and it sickened me.

  I jumped off the ledge to search the ground. My brain screamed at me to put down the large rock I found at my feet. But without hesitating, and with all the force and anger I could marshal, I stepped back and hurled the rock through the window.

  The noise of glass shattering was impressive.

  I did not hang around to see its effect on their party, but sprinted across the lawn without looking back. I might have heard some shouting, but it was quickly drowned out by the noise of gunfire. Whoever it was who was shooting was firing blindly into the night.

  I ran through the veldt, long, wet grass licking my legs, thankful for the darkness provided by the low-hanging clouds and grimly satisfied with my small gesture of defiance.

  Once I was far away from Kondozi Farm, I checked my phone. Two bars. Not great reception but just enough for texts to come through. The low-battery light blinked. I hadn’t been able to charge the phone, so I would have to be quick. I flicked through Grace’s messages about her life in the sheds and shot off a quick text to remind her to keep our secret. She pinged me back with a smiley face with a halo and I grinned at her messaging skills. She was growing up fast.

  I scrolled down to what I really wanted to read, Sheena’s messages:

  U mean a lot to me, too. xxx I was worried now that u’ve gone, u would forget me… I miss u. Not just our running. But you. It’s not the same here. That afte
rnoon was special. I liked it… A lot. I never did that before. You must know that? Will u ever come back to Milton? On holiday?

  And:

  R u there? We must talk! I told my dad about the in Marange. He wants to come and bring the whole family. Says he’ll make more $$$ in Marange. Everyone is talking about fields. Sooo EXCITED to see u! for everyone, right?

  Sheena’s message stopped me short. I read it again, just to be sure, and then stared up at the night sky in disbelief.

  “Crap,” I said aloud. They didn’t know about the soldiers. About Commander Jesus, the torture camps, and the bodies in mass graves. Did anyone beyond the Bvumba Mountains know what the army had done here? I had to tell them. They couldn’t come. It would be the worst mistake of their lives.

  I scrolled to the next message:

  Can we talk? I want to know about the school, where u staying etc. Dad is planning our trip. We’re coming to look for ! I’m coming to look for only one - you! x

  And:

  Wake up! Where r u? We are coming to Marange! We’ll be there soon!! Can’t WAIT to see u. xxx

  I couldn’t believe what I was reading. Sheena was coming to Marange. She could be here already. I checked the dates of the messages. The last one was three days ago. Sheena had texted me every day and then stopped. I knew the reception on the road was patchy. No messages for two days could only mean they were traveling. I had to tell them to turn around.

  With all that had happened in the last ten days, I had forgotten about the outside world. Her messages felt as if they had come from another planet, where life was safe, sane, and ordinary. I hadn’t been honest with her about my life in Marange. I had lied about going to school and had made Patson-looking-for-diamonds sound like a game. If the army’s Operation No Return had been enforced in the whole Marange area, wouldn’t Sheena’s family have been stopped at one of the checkpoints on the highway? But what if they were dropped in the bush, like we were? I had to warn her. They had to know the truth.

  Army taken over mine. VERY dangerous tell ur dad 2 GO HOME no school here. DO NOT walk through the bush.