Truly speaking, I was drawn to her

The clock struck seven and suddenly, my mobile phone went wild, conveying an earsplitting sound in the house. From my bed, I fumbled for the phone and 

switched it off.

I jumped out of bed and reached for my pajamas. Hastily, I put them on, snatched my soap, sponge and towel, and rushed to the bathroom, humming an old tune.

Being a Saturday, I was in the highest of moods. That was especially so, knowing I had the whole day to myself since I had made no arrangements on how to kill off the day. All the same, I had a hunch that something good would crop up.

As I turned on the shower, I felt rivulets of refreshing, cool water cascading down my naked body. I gasped for breath as I tried to get accustomed to the cold shower.

My bath witnessed the elapsing of thirty minutes as I fantasized about my many lovers - Rose, Sharon, Mattie, and my latest acquisition Trish. This one was my heaven and earth. She was exceptional because not only was she ravishingly beautiful but also brainy. Since meeting Trish, I had suspended seeing my other girlfriends to have more time with her, uninterrupted.

Trish really made me go haywire by the mere sight of her. In fact, beauty radiated from her like a halo. Her voice was as romantic as that of a cooing dove. Besides, she was buxom as evidenced by her voluptuous body. To say the Almighty had done the best work of art on her was not to be metaphoric, but to be simply literal.

To compliment her looks, I had to dig deeper into my pockets to provide for her many hairdos, albeit begrudgingly. But then again a man has to be a man. I made sure she wore the most exotic and up-to-the-minute hairstyles in town. Why not? It was obvious I had to be free-spending with a lady of her calibre.

The day we met reminisced in my mind. It was love at first sight. Her glistening eyes reflected into mine and smiles were born. I showered her with my compliments and her glowing smile was just the stimulant that I wanted.

Hastily, I left my table and headed straight to where she was seated. I looked down at her and asked to join her.

“Oh! You can join me. After all, I am… I have no date,” she said invitingly smiling at me.

“Thanks very much. And for that, I will be your host. Let me pay for the dinner,” I said, beckoning the waitress and placing an order for appetisers.

Thereafter, we had our main meal leavened with my good and humorous jokes.

Wimpy, corner George Silundika, and First Street is where I usually took dinner. I loathed cooking and doing dishes hence this restaurant had become my stopover.

During the meal, Trish opened her biography to me. She stayed with her mother in the leafy Avondale Suburb. She had never seen her father in the flesh as her parents had divorced at a time when she was still in the womb. She had only seen her father on photos, shown her by her mother.

Although she exerted great emotion on the issue, I did not take much note of it as my heart and mind were already visualising myself tenderly entangled in her arms, my lips drawing satisfaction from hers and my hands exploring the contours of her feminine body.

I held back my propositions for a better moment. We exchanged addresses and cellphone numbers and promised to call each other frequently.

When I finally told her that she was the missing link in my ‘lonely’ life, it was only to fulfill the existing love between us.

“I loved you from the moment I set my eyes on you. Thus, I have been very much drawn to you since then. I have never felt this way for any man,” she said, delicately taking my palm into her hands.

Surely, the words “I love you” have never been boring to hear especially from somebody you adore. When Trish whispered these endearments into my ears, I could not thwart a smile that came naturally to me. I felt something in me moving and I was a born again.

From that day, Trish became part of my existence.

As I raked through my hair, I was oblivious of Trish’s presence as she pronounced it.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself very much George. How was your night?” she asked merrily.

“My angel, Trish!” I exclaimed falling into her arms and showering her with the sweetest of kisses.

“I am doing well, my love! I did not expect you, but anyway, being my darling, this home is all yours, and your welcome is automatic,” I said, confidently leading the way to my apartment.

“This is a very good place and I never imagined you staying in such a place,” she said as she threw herself on the settee.

“We will have a better place, honey, when I, for lack of better words, throw you into my kitchen,” I replied nestling closer to her.

The mere touch of our bodies produced a powerful current that rushed through her as I felt her shiver. I turned on the radio and shoved Joe Thomas’s Song; Thank God I found you.

I collected my photo albums and gave her and soon left for the bedroom to put on fresh clothes.

I was still going through my wardrobe when her sweet voice broke my concentration.

“George, George, come here. I want to ask you something.”

I left all I was doing in a huff and rushed to the lounge and sat beside her, anxiously.

Who is this man, George?” she asked in her usual dulcet tone pointing at a picture in the album.

“That’s your father-in-law, sweetie. By the way, I’m heartily sorry Trish, for taking so long to show him to you,” I said, cuddling her into my arms.

She looked at me, and tears formed in her sparkling eyes.

“What’s the matter, Trish? Have I offended you?” I asked.

“George!” she muttered, and suddenly her voice split into a bitter cry, “I…wo..nd..er… why we felt so m..uch for ea…ch other. You… are my … blood bro…ther.”

A tragic welcome

  

He sat in the bus in anticipation, fighting very hard to contain the grime that was almost choking him. He was silently planning how he would spend his off days at his rural home. As the bus finally growled, coughed and suddenly came to a halt, Simba picked up a few groceries that he had purchased and disembarked. He disappeared into a cloud of dust towards the beer hall from where the only semblance of activity emanated in this seemingly dead community.

Ganyungu Township is where he had reached, the place he had known since his childhood. Tongai Moyo’s song ‘Naye’ sent the revelers into a dancing frenzy. Those who had seized the opportunity to watch Moyo perform in live shows were trying to replicate the popular “Cele” dance, but much to their chagrin.

A satchel behind his back, a carrier bag in hand, he stood at the entrance of the bar trying with difficulty to fight the stench of opaque beer, sweat, and suffocating cloud of cigarettes, saddled with different women-designed deodorants. The bar was packed to its capacity and the people did not seem to care.

To the far corner of the pub, were skimpily dressed ladies of various classes. They sexily wriggled their waists, their butts shaking violently to the lambasting music. Womanisers bent low behind them, drooling.

A sudden feeling of thirst gripped him and he could not resist the urge to have his favourite Lion Lager.

Simba brushed his way past the crowded dance floor to the abacus where he made himself comfortable on a bar stool, which another reveler had left for the dance floor. He downed a Lion lager pint and ordered another, which he took down slowly, taking the chance to study his surroundings in case he could pick an old acquaintance from the patrons in the bar.

His eyes stumbled on a lady of medium built, her face looked recognisable with each passing second. Her hair was a wave of black mass, teasing her shoulders as she gyrated her hips. Her dressing was spick and span. The denim she had on, displayed all the contours of her shapely bottom. The chemise was indeed her second skin, clearly shaping her full breast but was petite enough to leave her navel exposed.

“Rudo!!” Her name came vividly into his mind despite the long absence from the rural areas amounting to six years. She had now grown into a full woman. He remembered her being a scrawny, little, and unattractive young girl whom he used to herd goats with. Together, they had played several games including the common, “Show me yours and I will show you mine”.

When they had slightly grown, he remembered one day when he had trouble in trying to conceal an erection after taking a swim together in Nyarupakwe River. Simba had dove underwater while doing the hide-and-seek game. Ignorantly, he brushed her firm little breasts and that stirred it all.

Among the revelers, was also Nomsa. She had a Zambezi Lager in hand and was indeed on top of the world. His old days with her reminisced in his mind. She had grown up very fast, mentally and physically. She had developed breasts before anyone else in their grade. Simba had occasionally tried to propose love to her but she repeatedly snubbed him, arguing that he was not old enough for her taste. That sent him back in his cocoon and never to challenge her again.

Chatting to Nomsa was Betty. With her, Simba actually feared her during his childhood just as rats fear cats, despite having a crush on her.

There they were, his old mates, dressed to kill, looking as fresh as apples, adorning trendy hairstyles, much to his admiration. He was taken down memory lane.

He finished his beer, picked up his items, and approached them.

“Hi-i-i my good ladies!” he passed his greetings. On recognising him, they all screamed with joy. Hugs, pats, light kisses were showered on him, bringing mystification to him in the process. He stood amidst them baffled.

What brings you here, Simba?” Rudo asked momentarily after the greetings.

“I am on my way home. I have just arrived from the capital,” he answered, already preparing to leave.

“You cannot go to Gunde Village at this time of the day. It is too dangerous. You will lose your goods, besides you will get yourself killed,” Rudo said.

“Remember,” she continued, “This is harvest time and robbers are waylaying people along Nyarupakwe River, pouncing on unsuspecting salaried farmers,” she finally said looking at her friends for a nod in agreement.

“Let’s go to my place and leave your goods for safekeeping. I have a two-roomed cottage, just behind the shops. The night is still young. We will have to come back to the bar and celebrate our reunion,” Rudo said already taking some of the luggage from him.

“So tell me, what are you doing in Harare?” she quizzed.

“I am a police officer, a sergeant. What about yourself?” he asked in expectancy.

“I am a cross border trader. I go to Botswana to buy items for resale. I am here in Ganyungu to sell my merchandise to cotton farmers,” she said looking at him for comments.

“At least your income is tax-free,” Simba finally said, not realising he had already reached her doorstep.

She opened the door to her cottage and a whiff of aroma greeted his nostrils. A step further into the room revealed a well-furnished room whose floor was gleaming like a pool of water under the light of the moon.

“Please come in. I stay here alone and all this property was acquired through my business as a cross border trader,” she said as she put his goods in a cupboard. Simba swallowed hard and kept the complements within his heart.

After consuming a scrumptious meal, they then left for the bar.

As they entered the pub, Simba was already in a party mood. He went straight to the counter and from his pockets; he drew out a thick ward of crispy maroon bearer cheques and ordered beers for the ladies and his as well. It was now showtime. He was the one in control and felt very safe in the presence of the three beauties. He had every reason to drink relaxed since he had been guaranteed a roof above his head that night.

Beer flowed until their tongues loosened and knew no limits. Rudo was always by Simba’s side, reminding him of the epochs of yore. She talked about the times she had gone under a mutarara tree and asked to be rewarded with huge breasts. The event reminded Simba of another day he had childishly smeared a certain herb above his genitals in a bid to speed up the budding of pubic hair. They laughed their lungs out at their sense of humour.

Rudo would intermittently lay her hands on his shoulders, which she would later tenderly spread along his vertebrae. He felt a prickling sensation and his feelings for Rudo were awakened from their hibernation where they had taken sanctuary. He took valour and emptied his heart.

“I had trouble now and again in concealing my obsession for you. Actually, I didn’t know how to begin or to end. I wish we could turn back the hands of time.” he said, lustfully starring at her “pretty” face. She returned her face away from the lustful imposition of his gawk.

“Simba,” she said, now coquettishly leaning on his rather rough laps, “We were just very young at that time. Even if we were to go to the days of old, you would still act the same.”

Now putting her slender hands on his hairy chest, she continued, “You are fortunate that you have found me again in your bachelorhood, I am all yours tonight so please nurse back to health the wounds of the past.”

Later that night, Simba slept in Rudo’s arms. He looked at her body while she slept. She had an astoundingly smooth skin, her hair was extraordinarily black, and her breasts so supple that one would think she was sixteen. How good she looked in his eyes.

He took her into his arms and the simple touch of their skins produced a current that kept them entangled and undividable for the rest of the night.

The following morning, he packed his belongings and left Rudo’s apartment for his home. Hardly a few meters from the shops, he met his friend Chasara. It had been a long time since they had last met and they talked about their lives, updating each other also on current events. They also talked about the achievements of their classmates. That conversation led to the mentioning of Simba’s love for the night - Rudo.

“Shaaz, do you know what happened to Rudo?” Chasara asked.

“She got married and her kid passed away. Three months later, her husband also died. They say he had tuberculosis. She got married again and the husband died after an elongated illness,” said Chasara with a funereal tone.

“She is now a dump prostitute, who has openly declared to spread the virus. It’s a matter of time before we gather for her funeral,” he added, his head shaking in sorrow.

Sweat formed on Simba’s temple, his heart fought a solitary battle within the ribcage seeking its discharge. On recollecting sleeping with Rudo that night without protection, tears formed in his eyes and could not smother a loud cry that left his friend Chasara bewildered. Simba felt his luggage heavier than it veritably was, and asked his friend to help him with it, while he took a rest.