Harare North (7 page)

'That is not funny,' I tell Aleck straight and square.

When Aleck is gone, Shingi say I can have the last piece of
his meat on his plate. But me I don't eat no leftovers. I'm principled
man.

'How do you pronounce your name?' Tim ask as he flip through
Shingi's passport.

'Shingirirayi.'

'I'm not going to be able to pronounce that.'

'Shingi. Just say Shingi.'

Shingi only let me use his passport and National Insurance
number because he want to prove me wrong and show that I
can't get graft. But now it's evening and we is all sitting and
going yari yari yari about my new graft. Shingi have now start
talking more because he also feel good that he let me use his
papers to get the graft and now talk as if all this is because of
him. Tsitsi is happy for me too. And Farayi, eating soup, is also
happy for me. Then Aleck, who have just arrive from work,
march into the room to hear what the excite is all about. When
I tell him the news he only say, 'Hmmm.' There is small trace
of big reasoning on his face. He lean against the door, look at
Shingi and start to crack his jokes again, asking if original native
and his winds able to take pressure of London.

Farayi pretend he finish his soup and walk away to kitchen.
Tsitsi also leave saying she want to go upstairs to put baby to
sleep. Shingi just lying in bed with that blank face of some
Chipinge cow that have been given away as bride price; he
still don't know how to stop people bullying him. Me I decide
I don't want to live this funny moment so I disappear too
because the last time I stand for Shingi all I get is leftover
piece of meat.

You see me stepping down them pavements from graft with
hands in my pockets and you think you know me? You see me
walking from the corner shop with blue plastic bag slung over
my shoulder carrying butter, bread, tin of baked beans or sausages
and you give me the talking eye that demand your Mars bar?
You lick ice cream, I bite mine and you laugh because you think
you know my arse better than your mother's petticoat? That's
my style that. But that don't matter today because today is not
day for styles. Today I have to cry. Today I cry for everything
that have happen and everything that have not happen. Today
I cry to Mother. I don't know how to cry for she when she
leave, Mother. Today I cry because the river of pain have run
through our hut sweeping everything with it. Today I cry because
the month has end, my patience is now starting to pay. £515 in
my pocket; 515 termites in my pocket. Shingi, everything is
forgiven.

And this is just beginning of it. Five, six months and I'm out
of here if there is no rent to pay. And no food to waste money
on. In the dark tailwinds, the footsteps of that news-animal is
falling quiet. There's time to pick them termites.

It has been hard. Everything. Even Tim – his accent and
cockney thing, you can't hear anything. And when you hear it
don't make sense and you have to make your anus tight and
listen up to figure things out. Even small things. Like when,
after long day, he say, 'I'm cream-crackered.' Or, 'Me knife's
going to cut me up if I stay one second longer here.' His knife,
that's his wife.

'One for me, one for you.' Shingi and me count the money. You
don't get tight-fisted with first salary otherwise the ancestors
that have give you all this will take it away. That's how I am
brought up.

'One for you, two for me.' It is the first time that we count
monies together and that's because me I think he is good friend
Shingi. Even if he behave funny when things is hard, me I can
understand it because that's how civilians behave sometimes because
they is not strong people.

Shingi is filled with heap of happiness as he seat on edge of
bed because he know that now he can also buy more time to keep
spinning his mama that jazz number that he still have graft in
Harare North. I have to make sure things is OK with him now
before I start looking for my dollars because he have look after
me all this time. I am principled man.

Me and Shingi go shopping. We is talking about what to buy
as we walk towards centre of Brixton. Shingi say I need smart
corduroy jacket.

It's good idea, me I say. But maybe this time we buy one of
them coats with many pockets, you know like the one we see at
Oxfam shop last month. This is best time to buy winter things
and we can share the coat.

We think it out together and Shingi agree with me. Now we
play fight around on them street pavements, jumping on each
each's back and nearly fall on someone's shaggy small dog.

We go to Oxfam shop and that coat is still there. It have twelve
pockets.

We buy it and now we is feeling like them big tycoons.

Then it's time for food. It's early evening and them streets is
still full of people standing outside McDonald's and KFC talking
and waiting for they girls like life is one big great street party. We
pass one of them crowds when I start hitting the old comrade with
them lyrics and plant them ideas inside his head that since he have
not find out what it's like to hit front bum, maybe we can try
organising sweet sweet time with Tsitsi because this is easy front
bum to hit. I see flash of big fright in Shingi's eye. It's the fear of
girls that Thoko put inside him at school.

If you leave it too late Aleck will take she back to the auntie
and you never see she again, I warn.

I can see in his eyes that he like the idea because he give that
boy smile that's full of foolishness and teethies.

Me I'm only joking, I tell him. But she is funny girl.

Shuwa?

Have you not notice?

What?'

She just run around the house pretending she don't know she's
big tease. You have not notice?

Shingi say he have notice nothing.

All that rural thing is just one big act, I tell Shingi, but he is
silent. Even when I bump my foot on pavement kerb as I follow
his big stride trying to tell him I'm only joking.

Me I don't want to do anything to she; I'm five years older
than she and I used to be ninja, I crack joke.

She give me them eyes sometimes. But this evening me I don't
know that tomorrow I will come back from graft to find Shingi
is busy trying to thief his way into she head – sitting on chair like
peasant, full of teethies and talking deep kind of Shona while
wearing funny shorts and tapping his stump finger on thigh. All
that is missing is some hoe for him to lean on and look like he
been toiling in humble way all his life, losing fingers and all.

I step inside the house and Tsitsi is in kitchen with Shingi;
he is busy trying to pull them words out of she mouth when
she is busy trying to cook. She don't want to talk no more but
Shingi is busy bothering she and trying to impress with big Shona
words me.

'Tsitsi,
ndeyipi?
' I greet Tsitsi.

'Yes,
kanjani?
' she say.

Shingi, I look him in the eye but we don't say nothing to each
each.

I sit on cupboard. Tsitsi is waiting for water to boil when I get
my cigarette out.

Tsitsi now have braided hair from the salon women and she
look swanky. I fire my cigarette while she wash the pan.

Shingi and me is now just watching she and smoking.

Why you all quiet? she ask.

I'm tired. Hard graft.

Now she hum some song and dash all over kitchen taking things
in and out of cupboards and drawers; she is now just swishing she
tail around because she know I have come. She know that I am
looking.

My head fill up with smoke; now I talk.

Shingi, he is crazy boy, me I shake my head.

Why? Tsitsi shout in she careless rural way.

I just laugh, looking down at my feeties. She is now busy with
the baby milk.

He was giving me lesson in how to have sexy time.

Shingi give me puzzled look.

Eiyaaa, Tsitsi laugh.

No, not me and him! He was just talking about how he can
make them fancy English girls and they pointy shoes cry if he
can get his claws on them.

Tsitsi look shocked and cover she mouth with hand to stop
sheself from giggling. Shingi is looking lost.

But he can't even touch them, she say.

I suck my cigarette so there is the small silent moment.

Yea, but he don't really need to touch them. He only have to
touch they front bottom and they go howling to the moon, I
blow out smoke.

Tsitsi have both hands on she mouth now looking at me like
I'm talking things that should not be talked.

He is that kind of boy, Shingi. If I was some father and I catch
him in bed with my daughter, me I will tuck them blankets around
him to make sure he don't feel cold.

Even Shingi crack up now.

Yes, I tuck them blankets tight like bandage so he can't move
one inch. So be careful about having sexy time with Shingi because
you go howl to the moon if he touch it.

Stop it, Tsitsi pull serious face.

The water start to boil and Tsitsi turn off gas. She come back
and stand leaning against cupboard. She tousle and tousle she
braids while we look. Then she turn to window and pretend she
now looking at something outside. She is sharp knife.

Now Shingi start again trying to get Tsitsi talking about what
songs make she want to do but Tsitsi is not interested no more.
He is busy spraying saliva all over as he talk with his hands. Tsitsi
not talk; not when I'm here. Me I just fold my arms in front of
me while filling my head with more smoke. I don't say nothing.

Now, I say, cutting my quiet, Shingi want Tsitsi and Tsitsi want
Shingi. Square square; maybe they must have sweet sweet time?
Now, Shingi, this is your chance; get up and lick them pointy
breasts and make this thing cry for mercy, I tell comrade.

Tsitsi gasp. Now I can see this look on she face like she not
know what to say. At first she have hand over she mouth. Then
she start laughing. She just crack up open. She laugh so loud and
for so long, Tsitsi. She laugh. Tsitsi laugh. She laugh hard until
Shingi give me this vex cheap face because this thing has put his
head out of gear. Tsitsi laugh. Baby wake up and start to cry and
Tsitsi run upstairs laughing and not come down until Aleck come
back from his graft.

You eat with skill, sleep with skill, graft with skill, and at the end
of the month collect your termites. Then soon you is out of here.
That's the plan.

Me I'm doing my sums to see how things will work out but
this rent problem, like bullfrog, is squatting in the way and looking
square into my eyes with its big fat face. I have not finish adding
the food bit and the front door fly open. It's Tsitsi. She have heap
of surprise all over she face like she have just see Christ cycling
through Brixton Market in his kaftan and sandals.

'MaiMusindo have been arrested,' she giggle and put she hand
over mouth.

Old spirit MaiMusindo live in Peckham. Last Saturday she have
been at our house for the second time to talk to Aleck again about
taking the child, Tsitsi, back to she aunt because she's they problem.
Now she have been arrest. Tsitsi say they say she get vex and
throw one brick into window of neighbour's son's window because
he play music too loud and disturb MaiMusindo when she is trying
to concentrate on ritual for people who have come to see she.

Everyone in the house go kak kak kak now. MaiMusindo also
have crazy rural thing going inside she head. You can tell even
when you meet she for the first time. People that know how to
fill the air with frightening insults that have teeth, wings and tails
– that's they style. But this kind of
jambanja
is the last thing that
anyone expect from she.

'What next is she going to do now – pull out some knife on
them the police?' Tsitsi laugh.

'She get possessed!' Farayi laugh.

'In the end the police give she £150 fine and big warning,'
Tsitsi say as she sit on my suitcase with baby in she arms. She
have been biting she fingers and maybe she need set of them nails.

'There is nail bar on Atlantic Road that sell set of twenty-one
for £10,' I give Tsitsi hint but she don't get it. I shut up.

'You have full head of hair and you is one hundred per cent sure
that tomorrow it turn grey. That's because you see grey heads on
the street and figure things out. But pubic hair is different story;
it's black now but you don't know if it turn grey, red, pink or
blue when you is old. That's because no old codger on Zimmer
frame is going to flash they pubic hair to you on the street,' I tell
people in the house last night but everyone give me blank face
like they don't know what me I am talking about.

Pubic hair is like your future; you have to find out by yourself
what colour it become when time has move on. That is true if
you are civilian person. But me I am not civilian person. I know
how things is going to turn out. I have already pick my second
wages. I know the future; I know what the colour of my pubic
hair will be tomorrow.

The second month have also been hard work because Tim have
been cracking them jokes and I have to laugh even when I don't
hear what he is saying because he talk very fast and in funny accent.
Sometimes I forget to laugh; his till is always full of money. Ricardo
understand Tim sometimes, even if he is Portuguese boy.

Last week I ask Aleck and Shingi if they know what kind of
money fish and chip shop can make in a day but they don't know.

Tim, now he is watching the floor spot where I'm cleaning.
Soon he is going to start pointing with his finger to show me
where the floor is not OK, I know. Tim like to point without
talking; that's when he is reading newspaper. He never leave the
till, old Tim. But that's OK because it don't bother me. If me I
was unprincipled person, all I have to do is wait and then strike.
That's because money is like termite; you don't catch it by its
head as it try to come out of its hole otherwise it go back and
disappear. You just let it come out in the open and soon it is
crawling all over the counter. But that's not my style because me
I am principled man. You want money – what is better, to try
catching it with your own skill and laughter, or to do it by common
criminal's way?

Mother's village area is now going to be take over by mining
company that belong to commander of armed forces and villagers
that don't want to move have been telled that the army and Green
Bombers is coming to move them. That's what I read yesterday
at Internet cafe. But that is all propaganda because this story is
in the
Zimbabwe Independent
, the newspaper that never like our
government. What you believe is your best weapon, I know.
And now Tim keep asking me, 'Are you all right?' I am doing
my graft and thinking about Mother; I don't know why he hassle
me.

Ricardo is doing the frying and don't talk to me much. He
don't even do his usual 'Eh
cómo está
, Mr Africa' today.

I spend time washing things and cleaning floor thorough because
them Health & Safety inspectors have give Tim big warning about
cleanliness matters. Even yesterday, Tim keep trying to give me
big cheer cracking them jokes that if he lose his licence he go
chop my 'Black & Decker and feed it to the greyhounds at
Walthamstow Stadium, mate'.

Black & Decker is cockney for penis, Ricardo tell me.

But now, me I am cleaning them floors, Tim keep asking too
many questions when I don't want any question because me I
don't know why he want to know so much things about me now
and disturb my thinking.