Tag: Love

The Condition Part 2

Continued from … The Condition Part 1

“Hi, you have reached the voicemail of Judith, please leave a message and I will certainly get back to you”

“Ah sorry you said what? Judiiiithhh noooo I I I was meant to talk to my nephew Joseph. <beep> Since I’m here I might as well say “that’s the most sexiest voice universe has ever made. Since you didn’t say ‘Mrs’ I wouldn’t be faulted for leaving my number. 0772934811 please do cal.. <beep><beep>

“Oh I heard the beep in my phone my money, I have run out of airtime but I wouldn’t min….

The phone was off way earlier than anticipated and he was just going on and on by himself. He cursed. He was about to say his name and his mind. Could she have got the message. Would she phone. Was she a Miss or Mrs. It was worth trying. 

“For all those boarding flight UM232 from Vic Falls to Harare, please proceed to Gate 1 we are now boarding”. The instructions came from a cocky voice and the speakers’ dust matched the voice, just as everyone made a beeline to the plane. Whilst aboard she fastened her seatbelt and was ready to doze off when the flight attendant spoke. 

Thank you for choosing to fly Air Zimbabwe 🇿🇼… “choosing from what when it’s the sole airline servicing the route” she murmured and fell asleep way before the plane was airborne. 

As they touched on Harare International Airport she hurriedly collected her bags and led the way. Obviously the landing woke her up. She wasn’t surprised by the landing but rather annoyed at the repeat by the stewards of their well rehearsed statement. 

Thank you mame, we hope you enjoyed the flight and thank you for choosing to fly with us. Hope to see you soon” she frowned. Why do they keep saying thank you for choosing us, as though there is an alternative. After going through the revolving doors she switched on her cellphone and noted she had voicemail. 

She jotted the number down and did a dummy payment on the mobile application so that she gets the name before she cancels the dummy payment. She gathered her esteem and decided to return the call. After all, the unknown caller had praised her and she thought why not give it a try

Hi my name is Judith, how are you Mr Kusena“. She decided to go formal. She giggled all the way from airport to their Gunhill home. The guy wouldn’t stop talking and he dished quotes faster than anyone she has ever known. As she entered the house she promised to keep in touch. The funny part is Mr Prince charmer wasn’t on Watsapp, hmmm strange 🤔. But she thought some people wouldn’t want the app either. 

“Love makes you blink when you should hold a stare and smile when you shouldn’t care” ~ beauty’s daughter

As days go by she would call him in the morning lunch and evening on way home. She asked what he did for a living and he answered simply. “Just like anyone else, I’m a hustler and I’m vending for a living”. She laughed as she reminded him everyone is always vending and hustling. 

They finally settled for a lunch outing. But he chose First Street Chicken inn. He had the courtesy to say he will be waiting outside by the entrance. 

“It’s impossible,” said pride;
“It’s risky,” said experience;
“It’s pointless,” said reason; 
“Give it a try,” whispered the heart….

As she arrived a little before time, she sat in a corner with her back on the street for fear of being identified. She didn’t see anyone who resembled her Prince Charmer. 

She was served a juice and the clock struck 1pm. ‘Will he be on time or the guys never make it on time’. Typical of public places a man being led by a child walked in. From the setup of holding a white stick and the left hand on the child’s shoulder meant he was blind. A begging bowl in hand meant he needed help. 

The blind man went first to the table where Judith was sitting and the kid pulled a chair for his dad to sit. 

No no no sorry the chair is taken and I don’t have any money please try begging somewhere else“. She pointed with her left hand clearly showing the diamond ring on her finger. 

The blind man and child sat patiently and calmly waiting for her to finish. After a while he cleared his throat and said in a begging voice 

“I am the guest you waiting for. My name is Bernard I did our table reservation as per promise and I was waiting outside by the entrance. When you sat at this table my son told me that you are here. I couldn’t see you neither can I see time, as you can by now tell that I’m blind”

                                                

     -oOo-

Life through the disability lens

NB: Based on a false story

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The Ressurection 

Continued from part 1 Who do you tell when you love ❤️ someone

We all stood there and just the breathing could be heard. Nobody talked. In times like these even the niddle could be so loud if dropped on the floor. 

We were all mind racing. I sat there but the truth is my mind was wondering up and down. My soul paced up and down and my heartbeat didn’t help matters either. 

The Police 👮 Constable seems to enjoy this. His eyes remained fixed on me. He must have carried this precision so many times that he even became used to scaring people with his direct stare. I was going to give him a nasty look, but he already had one. He cleared his throat like a judge who was about to deliver a verdict. 

He began to read the note that lay on his table. The same note that cancelled my wedding, the same note that I was the first to see as it dropped from the dead. Was she dead, I kept asking myself. I was hoping not. In such times, such prayers don’t get answered and you pray that the sky is congestion free, for you need your answers fast. 

Dear …. continued the officer as his eyes scanned through the note

If you are reading this please don’t be angry at me. I have decided to meet my marker. I have loved you since day one.
(The wife frowned) I have shielded all the girls who loved and or wanted you. I thought you were going to realize I never had a boyfriend all in the name of waiting for you. And this is how you repay me. Marrying someone under my watch. 

If it shall please you, please note I’m 4 months pregnant 🤰 

What? 😮. Me and the newly wedded wife managed to say in unison. “But… no it can’t be”. I said out aloud. But the loudness of my voice was interrupted by an even louder slap on my cheek from the wife. Even the Police officer frowned with envy that he too hasn’t slapped anyone with such mighty. I fell on the ground. What in boxing they call tko technical knockout. 

The doctor entered the Charge Office to give her side of the story, as she is the one who attended to T1. The friend of mine who shot herself at my wedding and we had to cut the wedding short. After all I was being arrested and charged on my wedding day. My wedding was what the British call a “dog’s breakfast”.

As she entered to deliver the news, she was shocked to see me lying on the floor. She didn’t know what to do. To deliver the news or attend to my bleeding mouth. I stood up in a clear sign of solidarity. I don’t mind dirty water but I do mind drowning.

“T1 is alive”. Said Mrs Devedzo, the doctor 

I leaped in air with that killer punch celebration.  I was celebrating my freedom for I won’t be charged for murder of T1. Even though I knew her survival might mean a whole lot more distraction as I’m now answerable to the wife. 

The officer said I was free to go. Just as I was about to walk out of the police station, I asked the officer if he could finish reading the note. 

Fast forward to today, 5 months later, in the dusty rural areas of Dotito, we are in a Roman Catholic Church for a funeral wake. T1 eventually passed away in her sleep due to complications at birth. She delivered a healthy baby girl who I named Tamiranashe but unfortunately she couldn’t make it. Doctors gave a laundry list of explanations none that I could believe. Father Raymond the local Priest was running late. The church was filled to capacity to pay the last respect to T1. 

Beautiful girls in mini skirts so short that left everyone to their imagining best sat on the front row. Even the married man shifted uneasily whilst their wives frowned, and the bachelors couldn’t stop peeping. As people sang waiting for the Priest to arrive I remember how as kids we used to interpret the drum beat and we coined a song “Fata murungu, Fata murungu” loosely translated to mean the Priest is a whiteman. 

The announcement came that Father Raymond wasn’t going to make it so Father Hebert would preside over the funeral. As he entered the church, by virtue of his name, everyone was stone cold to see and notice that Father Hebert was a blackman 😮. So why Hebert when he is black. Even the rural folklore whispered the rains would come late this year. Hazvisi zvega izvi. The last words I recall from the Priest was

“Life is pleasant 
Death is peaceful 
It’s the transition that’s troublesome” 

The ‘dust to dust’ hymn was the final song as her coffin was lowered into the grave. Wakabva kuivhu uchadzokera kuivhu. (Ashes to ashes)

There was a loud bang, popping sound that shattered the ears, those of nervous hearts fell down whilst some of us with military action took cover, only to realize it was a 3 man gun salute in honor of their departed comrade. Who was she really? 🤔

This was the resurrection that never was. The song faded away as I rubbed myself up, knees first for my only remaining suit. Last one standing after a nusty divorce. 

‘Fata murungu, Fata murungu Fata murungu’ I hummed 

                                        oOo

NB. Based on a false story

Who do you tell when you love someone

Those eyes that stare at you and you end up changing your opening line. As short as she was, she wasn’t short of superlatives to describe her.

She was the guy’s woman. Every guy would dream of dating her, many even tried their luck but failed. As beautiful as the words might describe her, she never dated, wasn’t dating and showed no sign of dating. Strange but who cared, we were the best of friends, she was my financial advisor. Used to wonder where the acumen sat in that small round head of hers.

Going out was fun, she would giggle and showed that she enjoyed her comfort. We would walk hand in hand to the braii stands and she called me darling, every gal nowadays says that. Nothing strange there. She used to say “I speak my mind. I never mind what I speak“.

She was born accurate, everything was inch perfect 👌. She would ask what you wearing so as to match your clothing. She had the nerve to tell you that you improperly dressed and would drive you back and select clothes for you. She despised us wearing coloured clothes like a crèche durawall.

Born slightly after independence in the 80s her big behind contradicted her small round baby face. The kind of woman who made other women jealousy. She was a true African, a traditional believer who never wore any trousers. Her Shona name was Tione but we christened her T1.

Her intelligence was amazing so was her structure, and eye for quality. We called her our FBI (Finance and Business Intelligence) and rumor was that her intelligence was infact from the Federals.

In one of our Nyanga business trips, the Eastern highlands of the country, where it was now obviously our get away place to refresh, she pointed out that a certain lady who was a neighbor was eyeing me for some time. I didn’t notice neither did I care. I was there to refresh my mind.

As we went to bed, we kissed goodbye (as has become the custom) and went to our different rooms. It amazed quite a lot of people as we seemed a couple, always together, arm in arm but slept different bedrooms. The worst was Victoria Falls, Ilala Lodge. We shared the same bed as it was fully booked, but we were friends so what’s the fuss.

Back on the Nyanga trip, nature’s call gripped me. I slipped into my pyjamas and went to look for what would quench my desire. I knocked firmly on one of the neighboring doors. No details needs to be said on what transpired later on that night.

All I remember was being told 2 months later that you are going to be a father. T1 remained calm to my surprise. But she was often like that and took things seriously and professionally.

Being African I was swift to marry before everyone noticed that there was a bun in the oven. A wedding followed 2 months  later.

There was something weird and something was wrong. The atmosphere was tense. But what could possibly go wrong. On a day like this, “This is the day the Lord has made and I will rejoice in it“, I comforted myself.

The Priest said a mouthful of things from behavior to sex, and I’m thinking “Why should we take advice on sex from the Priest? If he knows anything about it, he shouldn’t!”  He continued his sermon, “Care is to Express, Not to Impress; When Care is expressed truly, people get impressed naturally…, With the powers vested in me I do hereby pronounce you … there was a scream so loud to ignore. Someone yelled “call 911“.

But what would 911 and me have in common, so common to disturb my wedding. Just as I turned to face the Pastor so as to proceed with my wedding someone said it’s T1 who need an ambulance.

I didn’t think. I rushed to the car park only to see her body lying in a pool of blood. She had a pistol in her hand. But where did she get the gun. ‘Maybe she was the real FBI after all’, I thought to myself. She took her life. But why.

It was the note that lay beside her addressed to me that made me numb.

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oOo

*Based on a false story

Societal values

“I’m feeling bored, what are you up to”, she asked him, as she always does.

“Nothing much, just whiling up time feeding the animals”, he responded casually. “Let’s go out”.

To those who have an urban setup going out means a lot, considering the various options available.

In their case it was hearding to the river, sitting on a stone on the river bank and enjoying the crimson sunset.  This was their usual place. A secret spot. Looking down the river and at times peeping to those taking a bath in the river.

But not on this particular day. It started to drizzle, the ‘raining cats and dogs‘ type and the warmth of their bodies could be felt as they cuddled.

The heat arising from the stone as it evaporated in exchange of the coldness descending gave them comfort. In their comfort of happiness, the joys of their hearts , they both fell asleep. Hopefully dreaming of each other as they lay cuddled. It has always been his pleasure, cuddling her from behind.

It was late when they woke up and like all people in love they were inconsiderate of time and saw no need to rush. They began their journey back to the homestead. Short as she was, she always led and with the tall grass surrounding them, they couldn’t see far until they got to a clearing, the clearing being the pole and dagga welcome feature (what the modern now call durawall) of their homes.

They entered the compound arm in arm, swinging, (she had forgotten to remove the trousers and lipstick, a taboo in their village) only to be met by a dozen eyes staring at them, some ready to blow a gasket, some struck dump, some jaw dropped, some in amazement and some in straight forward faces that could have been the best caption for a national ID foto. A no smile, serious business type of face.

A search team had already been called for by the headman. People had gathered up from the village with their dogs, torches and anything that resembled a helping tool in the search of a rescue mission.

A kangaroo court was immediately setup to determine the fate of these two lovebirds. The headman sat on an elevated wooden log, wooden rod in his right hand, a big sun hat even though it was way after dusk. Their sitting arrangements resembled a cow horn formation with all village men on his right and women on his left. The accused sat in the middle and the verdict was unanimous.

~!~

This is how they ended up husband and wife. They didn’t plan for it. The society did.

oOo

She was responding to her grandchildren who had asked how she got married and why she was happy in their marriage as they celebrated their 48th anniversary

Joy is not in the clothes or location…. joy comes from God”

Disclaimer: Fiction. Not based on a true story but a dedication to those in true love.

The love of …

“….easy like Sunday morning 🎶… ” I finished the song with a whistle as I entered Pizza Slice 🍕 food outlet in town. 

Yes it was Sunday mid morning and clad in my 3/4 shorts, they were looking at my hairy legs. But who cares, it’s a Sunday morning. Taking it easy just like the song. On a Sunday morning. I whistled again. 

I ordered my pizza. The new chicken flavored, is my favorite. Order number 82. I wondered if they had sold 81 pizzas in that morning or it was a carry over figure from yesterday. 

I decided to sit in a corner  where I could notice everyone. Psychological right. My definition of a psychologist is a guy who looks at people’s faces and reactions when a beautiful girl enters a room

It didn’t take me long to see this short lady sitting a couple of tables away.  She was well built and those are the types I would say … ok never mind me I’m here for pizza. 

She kept looking to her side. I followed her eyes and landed on this guy who was on the phone. Keys on the table. I presumed he drives an Altezza. Who cares I’m here for pizza. 

Order number 79“, the lady shouts. I counted my fingers. How many more to my order, number 82. Anyway back to the lady. I watched her as she smilingly kept looking towards this Altezza guy. As he lift his head or looks at the direction of the lady,she would look aside shyly. 

Ok, I was begging to enjoy this. Like in a tennis match I would look left and look right. Look left, look right. What’s only missing was clapping hands when one hits an ace. But there was no ace here. 

Order number 80.

Look left, look right, I continued to enjoy my match,affording to smile intermittently. Then I decided to go for an ace.  Pulled out my pen wrote a note on the back of the only paper on table. Swiftly moved towards the lady, note in hand nicely folded once. 

Order number 81

I approached her, whispered in her ear and gave her the note. I pointed to the direction of the Altezza guy. I headed for the exit with a smile on my face. I had scored an ace. As I was near the doorway I looked back and the lady was beside theAltezza  guy pointing at me. 

 Order number 82.

 👀  oops 🙊 I wrote that note at the back of the order slip. Oh dear. There is nowhere I’m going back there. I pinched myself. 

Would the lady collect my pizza after realizing what I did. Maybe she left the note on the table of the guy. Maybe he did collect it on my behalf. Or maybe I should be a gentleman enough to go back and face the guy and ask for my order number. 

Maybe I can do explain to the sales lady over the counter that the pizza do belong to me but I somehow lost my order number slip. Not so easy on a Sunday morning, right!

What a match. I ended up the loser
                            –  oOo  –         

         

NB: To the Harare Pizza Slice Management. Now that I have done a free marketing for you, may I please have my pizza 🍕 back. 😉 

What is Love. Part 1

“Excuse me,  do you know where I can find  Barbours Departmental store?”

He swang around. Instead of answering he spent his time admiring what was in front of him. She scared the daylights out of him

“Oh yes , yah, yes” he found himself saying.

Wat are you saying, she asked in astonishment. ?

“I mean Barbours is just around the corner,  along First Street, you wouldn’t miss it. But may I please have your number”. He finished the sentence in a half shout, as she had walked away. “I’m James by the way,” he shouted

She looked back , tilted her head downwards so as to look from the top of her sunshades with that smile  expression of “loser” written all over her face.

She was swinging, black mini skirt, so short that even women turned around to admire the great feature behind her.  High heals and dangling car keys, Merc keys. She had an 8 figure shaped body. Her eyes made men shy away. She had dimples.
All that he could do was swallow saliva, as he couldn’t even blink. Neither could he walk. Even though he swallowed, nothing went down. The throat was dry.

                          * * *
“Will all those going to Mutorashanga please board, this is the last kombi (commuter omnibus ) for the day”.

“Driver my money is tallying, please stop the bus. Vabereki someone didn’t pay me”, shouted the conductor

“It’s me who didn’t pay”, said a soft frail voice on the front seat. She looked as though she was sick and her mind wasn’t anywhere nearby.

Everyone stared at her.
“Do I know you? Have we met before?”, asked the driver. She raised her face to meet the eyes of the driver

“Ah I remember you. The girl I directed to Barbours, black mini skirt , Merc keys in hand, you remember me, It’s James. “What happened to the Merc and all that glamour?”

“Conductor don’t worry she is staff. No need for her to pay”.

Tears rolled down her cheeks. She sobbed. The place she was hearding isn’t the kindof place where people give you a tissue to wipe your tears. They all expect to use your palms.

“It all began 2months ago…”, she began

“Tafara 1 bus stop”, I shouted as I saw my drop off point, as she began her story, I too was curious to know what transpired to this former great cat walker

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                                …….. to be continued

The Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

“Do you take this girl to be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in this holy state of matrimony;  to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part”.

He cleared his throat as though in doubt then softly said “I do“, it came as a whisper. Was it stage fright or tell tale signs?

“If any one can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

“By the powers vested in me under the constitution as your marriage officer I hereby pronounce you husband and wife. You may now …..”

Fast forward to 5years,  the two love birds nolonger see eye to eye. The guy was about to remarry and the wife was said to have relocated to Mozambique. They had 2 sons. The contentious issue was custody. As always.

Divorce is never a way to settle scores and now that he is marrying again, this spells the end to mother’s love for the children. Not that the incoming mother is bad but the moment parents seperate so many blame games come to play.

How does a wife treat a scenario whereby the mother of the kids(ex wife) pays a visit to see her two sons (as enshrined by the law), seeing the 2 former talking and possibly sharing a joke?

How does the husband feel when her ex (former husband) visit the kids. As you grab your newspaper and sit outside trying not to listen or be bothered by the two in the lounge, you hear them sharing jokes and clearly enjoying themselves.

Does love really disappear for and or from someone you share kids with. When the kid falls sick you need to contact the father (in this case Ex hubby) and he comes rushing.

So, they met again at the hospital. After the doctor had explained the condition it was nothing “really” serious. They strolled out of the ward towards the visitors bench. As they sat, nothing to talk about except weather and bar talk

“You gave gained weight, seems things are pretty well your side hey?” was his opening line

For the first time that night she smiled, turned to look him in the eye and responded “you don’t look too bad yourself, though that shirt would have done better with a blue tie”

“Oh really, you are still fashion conscious, I have since stopped being particular of what I wear” he said

“Why isn’t she taking good care of you”, it came as an attack than a question. The two just looked at each other just as the Doctor appeared. They all stood up.

“I have good news”, “and bad news”, said Doctor Ethan, (in an accent), making sure the words sink. His face showed no signs of either news and he seems to enjoy delivering such news. (I’m sure doctors practise this or is it practice )

“Start with the bad news, get on with it Doc, I hardly can’t contain it anymore”;

“Bad news is we going to hospitalise the boy for 2 days”, he paused as though still going on. “Good news is the operation was successful and no complications”

The two former lovebirds turned and hugged each other in celebration, a hug of relief, a hug of comforting each other, a hug that was too close for comfort. They never saw the Doctor walk away and neither did either of them see the husband arrive.

He coughed once, then coughed again twice, a little louder this time, in annoyance, to gain attention with just a hint of melancholy on his face.

The two let go each other, and stared at the current husband.

I’m still wondering who the wife stood next to or even who she sat next to. I really don’t know what happened next.

What I know for sure is the two gentleman are wondering who got the first call amongst them. A conundrum

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To be continued..

Love at first sight

“I don’t believe in love at first sight. It lacks hindsight,  its lust. No such thing exists and its failure of judgement. One needs to think straight and learn to study the person before you even think of believing in love”.

“How can you love someone before you even know the person. This is what we used to call in primary school ‘it can’t’, when asked by the maths teacher 2 – 3. Its just impossible and will implode in the so near future”.

“It would be mainly out of greed rather than anything  else. To me its more of lust than love”.

These are some of the various reaponses i got from asking a number of people, unfortunately women. Fortunately all guys i asked they said they believe in love at first sight. Can you blame them.

My own version.
I do believe in love at first sight. It is that magnetic instant feeling you have when you first saw him/her. That sudden blood rush, adrenaline pumping. That caricature at the back of your mind.

That instant feeling that makes you rehearse your opening line. Your most precious opening statement. As most guys believe “if you make her laugh you halfway through”.

Im not quite sure if you can lust for something you don’t like. “Friendship at first sight, like love at first sight, is said to be the only truth” – Herman Melville

Example 1
As she pushed her trolley in the supermarket, he prepared his opening line very well.
.
.
“So what do you do?”
She was a Markerting  Executive at this top telecomms company. He said he was a student. He didn’t waste time to say how he felt for her.
Loser the girl thought to herself
Jackpot the guy thought to himself

Example 2
As she pushed her trolley in the supermarket, he prepared his opening line very well.
.
.
“So what do you do?”
He was a Manager at a local hotel. She said she is a student. He didn’t waste time to say how he felt for her.
Jackpot thought the girl to herself
‘Chinamira’ – gold digger thought the guy to himself

Example 3
As she pushed her trolley in the supermarket, he prepared his opening line very well.
.
.
“So what do you do?”
He said he doesn’t work and she said she too was home. Job hunting.He didn’t waste time to say how he felt for her.
I love you too she thought to herself

She picked up the Sunday Mail only to discover that he is infact CEO of a listed company.

The 3 examples best illustrate my answer. They are all the same but with different outcomes. Love is what you feel first time when you are approached. First impressions last. The other examples’ outcomes were determined after the so called “knowing you first”. No one believes in Love at first sight, until that special person comes along and steals your heart.

In conclusion “The only true love is love at first sight, second sight dispels it”, or if you don’t believe in love at first sight, should I walk again

If this was an exam
Do you believe in Love At First Sight [25] marks
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Beauty Reloaded