The football game was starting to get exciting. Some great tackles were being made, skills were being put on display and the desire to win was evident on all our faces. It was the last game of the season, and a win was needed to secure the title. The game was still goalless, and a single goal at the final stages of the game would have sealed victory. I stood in the middle of the field, patiently waiting to get the ball. My chance was yet to come. As opponent attackers tried to drive the ball into the box, our central defender made a brilliant tackle, trapped the ball and lobbed it forward to the wings. The left winger raced down the flank at a blistering pace, giving the opposition defenders no chance to catch his nimble feet. My opportunity was on the horizon.
I ran up the pitch and positioned myself to receive the ball. The winger looked up. As our eyes met, I pointed my finger downwards to hint for a through ball. He quickly obliged and played a sharp ball through the opposition defence, cutting past both central defenders. I timed my run and brought the ball to my feet. I was now one-on-one with the goalkeeper. I stared into his soul and made my choice. I was going to give him no chance of saving it. I picked my spot, poked the ball forward and put my foot through it. The ball blazed past the keeper, made its way towards the top right corner of the net… and struck the pole. I had missed.
The game ultimately ended goalless. The Bulawayo Under-7 Championship wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of football leagues, but performing in the younger leagues set you up for success when you progressed to the older age groups. Our town’s football teams were well known for their high levels of talent, with some of our players even going on to play for Zimbabwe’s top league. It was thus the objective of all the teams in the city to be winning and attracting the attention of top scouts, and my small neighbourhood of Burnside was no different. If I had scored that goal, we would have won the league and brought great attention to our players. It was heart-wrenching to realise that it was my missed chance that was the defining moment of the game. It also didn’t help that my teammates seemed to give me the cold shoulder after the game. I had let the whole team down.
‘Please don’t be sad,’ said Tatenda. He was the only one who had come to console me.
‘But I should have scored!’ I bewailed. ‘I let everyone down.’
‘No my friend, it was a mistake,’ Tatenda assured. ‘You’re going to have a lot more games to play better.’
‘I don’t think I’m good enough for the team anymore,’ I sulked.
‘Don’t be silly, you’re one of our best players,’ he assured. ‘People miss shots all the time!’
I didn’t believe the words he was saying, but I appreciated them. Tatenda always knew how to cheer me up when I was feeling down, and this time, his mere presence was enough. I loved being friends with him, as we complemented each other perfectly. He was the quiet, docile one; I was the loud, outspoken one. He was always kind, and I tried to be nice but I had my mean streaks. And lastly, but perhaps most importantly of all, he always knew what to say to cheer someone up, while I always knew what to say to have my own way. The gift of the gab was one of the few things we had in common.
‘Wanna get an ice-cream?’ Tatenda asked. ‘It will make us happy again.’
‘Where will we get the money?’ I wondered.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll ask my dad,’ he replied, pointing towards a plump figure on the touchline. His dad had been watching the game, cheering him on and pushing him to play better. I thought about how lucky he was to have his dad watch his games. Maybe if Father were here, I would have been inspired enough to score, I thought. But it was not to be. Father was a hero, and he was resting in heaven – at least that’s what Mother always told me when I asked about him.
‘Here my boy, use this to buy an ice cream for yourself and one for your friend,’ he said, giving him a one-dollar note.
‘Thanks, daddy!’ Tatenda exclaimed.
‘Thank you, Tatenda’s dad!’ I said, trying to imitate Tatenda’s level of joy. I hoped that one dollar was enough to get us good flavours.
‘Hey there, little ones!’ greeted the ice cream vendor, beaming as if he’d just seen two newborn puppies.
Don’t patronise us, I thought. I was never a fan of the way in which adults spoke to children, and I found it rather condescending when adults changed their tone to speak to me. It was almost as if they were trying to establish that I was too young and dumb to be spoken to normally.
‘So, what flavour would you little chaps like?’ the vendor asked, keeping the patronising tone.
‘Uhm… van-v-vanilla looks nice,’ Tatenda stuttered, seeming overwhelmed by the variety of flavours. Unlike me, he was not one to express himself easily. Sometimes he needed a little push.
‘I think he means chocolate chip,’ I said, giving Tatenda a coercing stare. He shyly lowered his head.
The vendor waited for confirmation. A few stares later, the truth came out. ‘Okay fine. Give me a strawberry!’ he blurted, finally making a firm decision.
‘And a chocolate chip for me, please,’ I added.
‘So that will be one strawberry and one chocolate chip,’ the vendor confirmed.
Tatenda nodded in agreement. I was proud of him.
Eating ice cream is like going on a vacation. It’s amazing initially, and you relish the enjoyment that you get when you begin eating and your taste buds start dancing. As the ice cream gets depleted, however, the realisation starts to hit that it will soon be over and you will have to go back to eating the normal, mundane foods that just don’t compare in terms of pleasure. Nonetheless, it’s a delicious experience that is a great way to satisfy a sweet tooth. Just as it became apparent that my ice cream wasn’t going to last forever, Tatenda and I bumped into two girls from our neighbourhood.
‘Hello, Emmanuel,’ greeted Priscilla, looking intrigued.
I hated when people other than Mother called me by my first name. ‘Em’ was much preferred, and that’s what most people called me. Priscilla was not most people, though, and she was used to doing whatever she wanted. Being a spoilt brat raised by rich parents will do that to you.
‘Hi, Priscilla,’ I groaned, lacking enthusiasm.
‘And you, Tatenda, how have you been?’ she asked.
Tatenda remained quiet. Her friend Florence was by her side, and she refrained from greeting or adding to the conversation. My friendship with Tatenda was much like Priscilla’s relationship with Florence, with Priscilla being the vocal one and Florence being shy. Notwithstanding the similarities, our friendships differed in that Florence followed whatever Priscilla wanted to do and she almost had no mind of her own. I would have liked to think of myself as Tatenda’s external backbone, pushing him in the right direction when his docile nature got the better of him. Sometimes I felt sorry for Florence, and hoped that one day she would be freed from her façade of a friendship. She deserved better.
‘Enjoying your ice cream?’ Priscilla asked.
‘Yes, we are, aren’t we?’ I said as I turned to Tatenda. He nodded as he nervously licked his ice cream. ‘Actually, I can’t imagine how sad it would be not to have an ice cream on a hot day like today,’ I cheekily added.
‘Well, Florence and I would be eating ice creams too if we had gentlemen to buy them for us,’ Priscilla smirked.
I tried to hide a smile. I wasn’t a fan of her personality nor the way she treated Florence, but I will admit that Priscilla’s brazen attitude was sometimes fun to interact with.
‘Well, what are you guys doing today?’ she enquired. ‘Those ice creams won’t last forever.’
‘Actually, we had something planned for later, but if you have a better plan then we might change our minds,’ I said, knowing full well we had nothing better to do.
‘Well, if you waaaant, we can all head over to my house and play some games,’ she proposed. ‘My parents went out for the day and the babysitter doesn’t mind if I have friends over.’
‘Let Tatenda and me discuss it quickly and we’ll decide,’ I responded.
‘I told the babysitter I’ll be back in a few minutes so be quick!’ Priscilla urged. ‘She’s going to nag me if I’m late!’
I pulled Tatenda to the side and tried to convince him to go.
‘Are you sure you want to go there?’ Tatenda asked. ‘Everyone knows she’s always doing naughty things,’ he stressed.
‘Relax, bro. I’m sure nothing bad will happen. Try to have some fun for once!’ I pleaded. ‘You won’t be alone.’
‘Okay fine,’ he capitulated. He knew that arguing with me this time would be futile.
‘So are you guys coming or nah?’ Priscilla questioned as we returned from our talk.
‘Yes, we think it could be fun,’ I replied. The girls both smiled, with Florence’s smile looking more out of courtesy than anything else. We began the long walk to Priscilla’s house, which was right at the outermost edge of the neighbourhood.
I felt relieved when the seemingly endless walk finally concluded and we arrived at Priscilla’s house – if you can even call it that. Her house – no, her mansion – was located in the richest street in the city, which also happened to be one of the richest streets in the whole of Zimbabwe. Although that didn’t say a lot, rich streets always stood out in Zimbabwe when juxtaposed with the poverty to which many of us were subjected. Her mansion looked big enough to house my entire family lineage.
‘You’re late,’ a woman moaned as we approached the main gate.
‘Soooorryyyy,’ Priscilla shrugged. ‘It’s only a few minutes, geez.’
‘Hey, if your parents find out I’m letting you go walking around the neighbourhood, I can kiss my job goodbye. Behave yourself or I won’t let you leave the house anymore!’ the woman scolded.
I presumed she was the nagging babysitter.
‘Whatever,’ Priscilla said, calling her bluff as she walked through the gate. ‘You guys coming?’ she asked, motioning us to come inside.
I accepted the invitation and Florence and Tatenda followed suit.
You would think that people with copious amounts of money at their disposal could afford to have a stylish home. But no, not Priscilla’s family. An obsession with the colour white was evident throughout the house, with white walls, white furniture, and even white art and ornaments spread all over the house. It could have looked classy if it was done in moderation with some omissions for balance, but white was the only colour you were going to see in this disturbingly-decorated house. I guessed money really couldn’t buy taste.
‘Soooo, what are we gana do?’ asked Florence nervously as we walked into Priscilla’s bedroom. As expected, Tatenda looked nervous too. I wouldn’t have been surprised if I had seen a big, wet spot at the front of his shorts.
‘Depends on if you wanna have some fun,’ Priscilla winked. ‘You guys like fun, right?’ she asked, looking at Tatenda and me.
I took that as a challenge. ‘Of course we do,’ I quickly answered. ‘Let’s do something fun.’
Priscilla grinned before telling us our fate. ‘Have you guys ever played truth or dare?’ she asked us.
‘Uhm, like… in the movies?’ Tatenda wondered.
‘Yes, like in the movies. But I’ve also seen my older sister playing it with her friends when they come over,’ Priscilla said.
‘Isn’t that game only for big children though?’ Florence questioned.
Priscilla didn’t seem impressed. ‘If you don’t think you can handle it then maybe you shouldn’t play. Or maybe we just shouldn’t be friends!’ Priscilla spat.
Florence looked hurt. ‘Okay, I’ll play,’ she said in a near whisper.
This is going to be interesting, I thought.
As per Priscilla’s instructions, we sat in a circle, with Tatenda and Florence sitting next to me on each side. I was right opposite Priscilla. ‘To play this game, we spin a bottle and whoever the bottle points to has to choose either a truth or a dare. The others decide what “truth” you should answer or the dare you should do,’ Priscilla explained.
I could feel the anxiety rising.
‘B-b-but what if you can’t answer the “truth” or do the dare?’ Tatenda asked.
‘Well, you’ll be kicked from the game,’ Priscilla said. ‘And maybe I won’t invite you over to my house again,’ she added as she flicked her head backwards. Nothing was going to stop Priscilla from having her way.
‘Why don’t you start the game,’ I suggested, knowing that Priscilla would have taken control anyway. She smirked and grabbed the bottle from her table. After a short but deep breath, she let it rip. The bottle spun furiously on the smooth carpet until it finally slowed to a stop. The opening of the bottle stared right at me. The other end pointed towards Priscilla. This meant that I was now able to ask her to answer any truth or do any dare I pleased. At that moment, I had all the power. I could now bend Priscilla to my will. The best part was that she had pushed to play the game, so her reputation was at stake if she resisted.
‘Wha-wha-what do you want me to do?’ Priscilla mumbled, looking uncharacteristically anxious.
I could smell fear. ‘Relax,’ I said. ‘I won’t make you do anything hectic.’ For some reason, I decided to go easy on her. I didn’t really care for making her do anything brutal; I just wanted to see her removed from the tough-girl façade she always upheld. I wanted to see her as scared and nervous as Florence often was when she was around her. ‘Truth or dare?’ I asked.
‘Uhm… truth. No, dare! Okay… I’ll take a truth rather. That’s my final answer.’
‘Alright then,’ I said. Priscilla waited anxiously.
‘Soooo…what’s the naughtiest thing you’ve ever done? Like, EVER?’ I asked her. She looked like someone who had just seen an easy question in an exam.
‘Oh, that’s simple. Once, my mom didn’t allow me to sleep over at my friend’s house, so I snuck out late at night. I even came back early the next morning and she didn’t find out,’ Priscilla said.
I was astonished. One should always be careful of people who are able to perform devious deeds with no remorse, and Priscilla was clearly one of those people. I was amazed by how she could speak about sneaking out for the whole night as if it’s a mild crime like stealing a biscuit from the pantry or staying up past your bedtime. I wondered what nefarious activities she would get up to when she grew older.
‘Well, that went better than I thought it would. It’s your turn to spin the bottle now,’ Priscilla said.
I brushed off my shock and grabbed the bottle. The bottle spun with the same fury as before, seeming determined to go on spinning forever. Despite this, the carpet managed to slow it down to a halt. The opening of the bottle pointed towards Priscilla, with the blunt end facing Florence. I knew she was going to think of something sinister.
‘Wow, my turn,’ Priscilla smirked. This can’t be good, I thought. ‘Truth or dare?’ she asked.
‘Truth, please,’ said Florence.
‘Come now, we haven’t had a dare yet. Be brave,’ Priscilla encouraged. ‘Okay, okay. I’ll do a dare,’ Florence said. Priscilla grinned menacingly. ‘I dare you toooooo…. kiss Florence on the lips!’ she ordered. Florence’s face dropped.
‘O-o-on the lips?’ Tatenda repeated.
‘Yes, the lips – those big things on your mouth,’ Priscilla sassed.
‘Do I really have to?’ Florence asked.
‘If you guys don’t wanna play then we can just end the game. It’s fine,’ Priscilla said, even though we could all see that it wasn’t fine.
‘Okay, I’ll do it,’ Florence said softly, looking at Tatenda. He stared at the carpet. Florence moved towards him, with intent now visible on her face. She had decided to it. ‘Come,’ she said. She was ready to do the deed. Tatenda, on the other hand, was trembling. He clearly wasn’t ready.
‘Are you sure you don’t wanna quit the game?’ I asked him, putting my hand on his shoulder. His eyes stared at me as if they were crying out for help.
‘N-no, I’ll do it,’ he confirmed. I wasn’t very convinced.
Florence leaned forward and puckered her lips. Tatenda leaned a little forward as well, fighting his whole body and soul in order to do it. It was happening. Florence and Tatenda were actually going to kiss. Florence closed her eyes. Tatenda closed his eyes too and took a deep breath. Their faces came closer together. Just as they were about to do it, the door swung open.
‘Hi guys, would you like some sandwi……ches,’ the babysitter said, bewildered by what she was seeing. ‘Uhm, what the hell are you guys doing!?’ she yelled, clearly unimpressed by what was going on.
Tatenda started breathing heavily. He wasn’t handling the situation well. ‘Uhm... we were just… I… it was her idea!’ Tatenda exclaimed, pointing fiercely at Priscilla. Not waiting to see Priscilla’s reaction, he made a run for it and stormed out of the room at full pace. The girls didn’t know how to react.
‘Hey, where are you going bro!?’ I called out, following him. He ran all the way down to the front door.
‘We shouldn’t have come here!’ Tatenda said with one hand on the doorknob.
‘Come on bro, we were having fun. I don’t think the babysitter was gana do anything!’ I stressed.
‘It doesn’t matter. I didn’t even want to play this stupid game!’ he said. ‘I’m leaving.’
It was clear that I wasn’t going to convince him to stay. If he was leaving, I would have to leave with him too. Our activities for the day were over.
After an awkward and silent walk home, Tatenda and I said our goodbyes and I finally arrived home. I wasn’t very worried about our friendship whenever we had fights because we always ended up sorting it out and moving on, sometimes even continuing after a fight as if nothing had happened. This time was no different, and I had no doubt that we would move on from how our visit to Priscilla ended.
Mother was still at work when I arrived home. She always left the key hidden under the mat in the backyard, outside the kitchen door. I was relieved to find the key under the mat, which signalled that Mother was still at work and thus wouldn’t shout at me for staying out too late. Mother was a vendor at a taxi rank in the city centre, selling whatever she could in order to raise some money for us. Mangoes were in season in late summer, so Mother’s stall consisted mostly of mangoes and sweets amongst other popular snacks. Even on a Saturday, she was enduring the scorching summer heat and doing her best to raise some money. Although I sometimes complained about not getting the latest toys or not having fancy food to eat, I knew deep down that Mother was doing her best to put food on the table. I was thankful for her efforts.
‘Hello, my boy,’ Mother greeted as she opened the door, trying – and failing – to force a smile. She was clearly exhausted. I rushed to take her bags and motioned her towards the couch. I removed her shoes and put a pillow behind her back. Her body was always sore after a long day at the taxi rank.
‘Are you alright, mama?’ I asked her.
‘Yes, Emmanuel, I’m good my boy. Just a little bit tired,’ she answered.
‘Okay mama, please try to relax.’ I pleaded.
‘Thank you, my son. I just need to rest. Anyways, how did your football match go today? Did my little Ronaldo score a goal?’ she asked.
‘It didn’t go well, mama,’ I responded. ‘I almost scored but I missed the shot. We only managed a draw,’ I bemoaned.
‘Don’t worry my boy, you’ll have many more games to play where you can score,’ she said optimistically. She was starting to sound like Tatenda.
‘I still feel bad about it. I missed an important chance for the team,’ I complained.
‘Hey, my boy, don’t talk like that! If your father were here, he wouldn’t be happy to see you like this. He would want you to hold your chin high and take this as a lesson. One game won’t define you!’ she insisted. ‘Now come give me a hug!’
I knew that she was right, but in that moment, all I wanted to do was wallow in my sorrows. Unfortunately, she was not going to let me do that. I accepted her warm embrace and accepted my failures. Even when she was exhausted and going through her own issues, Mother never failed to show me love.
‘Tell me, my boy, how are you finding school?’ Mother asked as she tucked me into bed.
It was my first term of ‘big school’ and I was slowly adjusting to being in grade one. ‘It’s going okay, mama. I think I’m getting used to it,’ I replied. For some reason, Mother didn’t seem so happy about it.
‘My son, I’m glad you’re enjoying school, but try not to get too comfortable,’ she said.
‘Why, mama? I thought you wanted me to enjoy going to school,’ I responded.
‘Well, the thing is, I don’t know how long you’ll be able to go to that school. In fact, I don’t know how much longer we’ll be living here,’ she said. I was taken aback.
‘Why do you say that?’ I asked.
‘My boy, sometimes things happen and life changes. Business has been slow at the taxi rank because everybody is opening up a stall nowadays. More people are losing their jobs every day and many of them come to the rank to try to earn some money. I haven’t been making as much as I used to,’ she said. I could see the pain in her eyes. ‘Today I got a call from the landlord. He says that if we don’t pay our overdue rent by next week, he’ll kick us out of the house,’ Mother said.
‘But I like living here, mama! What about Tatenda and everyone else? What about the neighbourhood? What about school!?’ I cried.
‘My son, I know it’s not an easy thing to hear, but we might have no choice but to leave everything and everyone behind,’ she said. ‘Things are getting awful in Zimbabwe and the economy is dying. We’ll have to leave the country.’
‘B-but where will we go?’ I asked. ‘We’ve always lived here.’
‘My son, we’re going to stay with my brother, Uncle Mufaro. He has a good job and is able to help us until I can get back on my feet. Besides, he says he misses you.’
‘But where does he stay?’ I asked.
‘Does he also stay in a place like Burnside?’ I enquired. ‘Maybe I can come to visit Tatenda on the weekends!’
‘My boy, we’re not going to be moving to a place that’s anything like Burnside,’ Mother said. ‘We’re moving to South Africa.’
The game ultimately ended goalless. The Bulawayo Under-7 Championship wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of football leagues, but performing in the younger leagues set you up for success when you progressed to the older age groups. Our town’s football teams were well known for their high levels of talent, with some of our players even going on to play for Zimbabwe’s top league. It was thus the objective of all the teams in the city to be winning and attracting the attention of top scouts, and my small neighbourhood of Burnside was no different. If I had scored that goal, we would have won the league and brought great attention to our players. It was heart-wrenching to realise that it was my missed chance that was the defining moment of the game. It also didn’t help that my teammates seemed to give me the cold shoulder after the game. I had let the whole team down.
‘Please don’t be sad,’ said Tatenda. He was the only one who had come to console me.
‘But I should have scored!’ I bewailed. ‘I let everyone down.’
‘No my friend, it was a mistake,’ Tatenda assured. ‘You’re going to have a lot more games to play better.’
‘I don’t think I’m good enough for the team anymore,’ I sulked.
‘Don’t be silly, you’re one of our best players,’ he assured. ‘People miss shots all the time!’
I didn’t believe the words he was saying, but I appreciated them. Tatenda always knew how to cheer me up when I was feeling down, and this time, his mere presence was enough. I loved being friends with him, as we complemented each other perfectly. He was the quiet, docile one; I was the loud, outspoken one. He was always kind, and I tried to be nice but I had my mean streaks. And lastly, but perhaps most importantly of all, he always knew what to say to cheer someone up, while I always knew what to say to have my own way. The gift of the gab was one of the few things we had in common.
‘Wanna get an ice-cream?’ Tatenda asked. ‘It will make us happy again.’
‘Where will we get the money?’ I wondered.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll ask my dad,’ he replied, pointing towards a plump figure on the touchline. His dad had been watching the game, cheering him on and pushing him to play better. I thought about how lucky he was to have his dad watch his games. Maybe if Father were here, I would have been inspired enough to score, I thought. But it was not to be. Father was a hero, and he was resting in heaven – at least that’s what Mother always told me when I asked about him.
‘Here my boy, use this to buy an ice cream for yourself and one for your friend,’ he said, giving him a one-dollar note.
‘Thanks, daddy!’ Tatenda exclaimed.
‘Thank you, Tatenda’s dad!’ I said, trying to imitate Tatenda’s level of joy. I hoped that one dollar was enough to get us good flavours.
‘Hey there, little ones!’ greeted the ice cream vendor, beaming as if he’d just seen two newborn puppies.
Don’t patronise us, I thought. I was never a fan of the way in which adults spoke to children, and I found it rather condescending when adults changed their tone to speak to me. It was almost as if they were trying to establish that I was too young and dumb to be spoken to normally.
‘So, what flavour would you little chaps like?’ the vendor asked, keeping the patronising tone.
‘Uhm… van-v-vanilla looks nice,’ Tatenda stuttered, seeming overwhelmed by the variety of flavours. Unlike me, he was not one to express himself easily. Sometimes he needed a little push.
‘I think he means chocolate chip,’ I said, giving Tatenda a coercing stare. He shyly lowered his head.
The vendor waited for confirmation. A few stares later, the truth came out. ‘Okay fine. Give me a strawberry!’ he blurted, finally making a firm decision.
‘And a chocolate chip for me, please,’ I added.
‘So that will be one strawberry and one chocolate chip,’ the vendor confirmed.
Tatenda nodded in agreement. I was proud of him.
Eating ice cream is like going on a vacation. It’s amazing initially, and you relish the enjoyment that you get when you begin eating and your taste buds start dancing. As the ice cream gets depleted, however, the realisation starts to hit that it will soon be over and you will have to go back to eating the normal, mundane foods that just don’t compare in terms of pleasure. Nonetheless, it’s a delicious experience that is a great way to satisfy a sweet tooth. Just as it became apparent that my ice cream wasn’t going to last forever, Tatenda and I bumped into two girls from our neighbourhood.
‘Hello, Emmanuel,’ greeted Priscilla, looking intrigued.
I hated when people other than Mother called me by my first name. ‘Em’ was much preferred, and that’s what most people called me. Priscilla was not most people, though, and she was used to doing whatever she wanted. Being a spoilt brat raised by rich parents will do that to you.
‘Hi, Priscilla,’ I groaned, lacking enthusiasm.
‘And you, Tatenda, how have you been?’ she asked.
Tatenda remained quiet. Her friend Florence was by her side, and she refrained from greeting or adding to the conversation. My friendship with Tatenda was much like Priscilla’s relationship with Florence, with Priscilla being the vocal one and Florence being shy. Notwithstanding the similarities, our friendships differed in that Florence followed whatever Priscilla wanted to do and she almost had no mind of her own. I would have liked to think of myself as Tatenda’s external backbone, pushing him in the right direction when his docile nature got the better of him. Sometimes I felt sorry for Florence, and hoped that one day she would be freed from her façade of a friendship. She deserved better.
‘Enjoying your ice cream?’ Priscilla asked.
‘Yes, we are, aren’t we?’ I said as I turned to Tatenda. He nodded as he nervously licked his ice cream. ‘Actually, I can’t imagine how sad it would be not to have an ice cream on a hot day like today,’ I cheekily added.
‘Well, Florence and I would be eating ice creams too if we had gentlemen to buy them for us,’ Priscilla smirked.
I tried to hide a smile. I wasn’t a fan of her personality nor the way she treated Florence, but I will admit that Priscilla’s brazen attitude was sometimes fun to interact with.
‘Well, what are you guys doing today?’ she enquired. ‘Those ice creams won’t last forever.’
‘Actually, we had something planned for later, but if you have a better plan then we might change our minds,’ I said, knowing full well we had nothing better to do.
‘Well, if you waaaant, we can all head over to my house and play some games,’ she proposed. ‘My parents went out for the day and the babysitter doesn’t mind if I have friends over.’
‘Let Tatenda and me discuss it quickly and we’ll decide,’ I responded.
‘I told the babysitter I’ll be back in a few minutes so be quick!’ Priscilla urged. ‘She’s going to nag me if I’m late!’
I pulled Tatenda to the side and tried to convince him to go.
‘Are you sure you want to go there?’ Tatenda asked. ‘Everyone knows she’s always doing naughty things,’ he stressed.
‘Relax, bro. I’m sure nothing bad will happen. Try to have some fun for once!’ I pleaded. ‘You won’t be alone.’
‘Okay fine,’ he capitulated. He knew that arguing with me this time would be futile.
‘So are you guys coming or nah?’ Priscilla questioned as we returned from our talk.
‘Yes, we think it could be fun,’ I replied. The girls both smiled, with Florence’s smile looking more out of courtesy than anything else. We began the long walk to Priscilla’s house, which was right at the outermost edge of the neighbourhood.
I felt relieved when the seemingly endless walk finally concluded and we arrived at Priscilla’s house – if you can even call it that. Her house – no, her mansion – was located in the richest street in the city, which also happened to be one of the richest streets in the whole of Zimbabwe. Although that didn’t say a lot, rich streets always stood out in Zimbabwe when juxtaposed with the poverty to which many of us were subjected. Her mansion looked big enough to house my entire family lineage.
‘You’re late,’ a woman moaned as we approached the main gate.
‘Soooorryyyy,’ Priscilla shrugged. ‘It’s only a few minutes, geez.’
‘Hey, if your parents find out I’m letting you go walking around the neighbourhood, I can kiss my job goodbye. Behave yourself or I won’t let you leave the house anymore!’ the woman scolded.
I presumed she was the nagging babysitter.
‘Whatever,’ Priscilla said, calling her bluff as she walked through the gate. ‘You guys coming?’ she asked, motioning us to come inside.
I accepted the invitation and Florence and Tatenda followed suit.
You would think that people with copious amounts of money at their disposal could afford to have a stylish home. But no, not Priscilla’s family. An obsession with the colour white was evident throughout the house, with white walls, white furniture, and even white art and ornaments spread all over the house. It could have looked classy if it was done in moderation with some omissions for balance, but white was the only colour you were going to see in this disturbingly-decorated house. I guessed money really couldn’t buy taste.
‘Soooo, what are we gana do?’ asked Florence nervously as we walked into Priscilla’s bedroom. As expected, Tatenda looked nervous too. I wouldn’t have been surprised if I had seen a big, wet spot at the front of his shorts.
‘Depends on if you wanna have some fun,’ Priscilla winked. ‘You guys like fun, right?’ she asked, looking at Tatenda and me.
I took that as a challenge. ‘Of course we do,’ I quickly answered. ‘Let’s do something fun.’
Priscilla grinned before telling us our fate. ‘Have you guys ever played truth or dare?’ she asked us.
‘Uhm, like… in the movies?’ Tatenda wondered.
‘Yes, like in the movies. But I’ve also seen my older sister playing it with her friends when they come over,’ Priscilla said.
‘Isn’t that game only for big children though?’ Florence questioned.
Priscilla didn’t seem impressed. ‘If you don’t think you can handle it then maybe you shouldn’t play. Or maybe we just shouldn’t be friends!’ Priscilla spat.
Florence looked hurt. ‘Okay, I’ll play,’ she said in a near whisper.
This is going to be interesting, I thought.
As per Priscilla’s instructions, we sat in a circle, with Tatenda and Florence sitting next to me on each side. I was right opposite Priscilla. ‘To play this game, we spin a bottle and whoever the bottle points to has to choose either a truth or a dare. The others decide what “truth” you should answer or the dare you should do,’ Priscilla explained.
I could feel the anxiety rising.
‘B-b-but what if you can’t answer the “truth” or do the dare?’ Tatenda asked.
‘Well, you’ll be kicked from the game,’ Priscilla said. ‘And maybe I won’t invite you over to my house again,’ she added as she flicked her head backwards. Nothing was going to stop Priscilla from having her way.
‘Why don’t you start the game,’ I suggested, knowing that Priscilla would have taken control anyway. She smirked and grabbed the bottle from her table. After a short but deep breath, she let it rip. The bottle spun furiously on the smooth carpet until it finally slowed to a stop. The opening of the bottle stared right at me. The other end pointed towards Priscilla. This meant that I was now able to ask her to answer any truth or do any dare I pleased. At that moment, I had all the power. I could now bend Priscilla to my will. The best part was that she had pushed to play the game, so her reputation was at stake if she resisted.
‘Wha-wha-what do you want me to do?’ Priscilla mumbled, looking uncharacteristically anxious.
I could smell fear. ‘Relax,’ I said. ‘I won’t make you do anything hectic.’ For some reason, I decided to go easy on her. I didn’t really care for making her do anything brutal; I just wanted to see her removed from the tough-girl façade she always upheld. I wanted to see her as scared and nervous as Florence often was when she was around her. ‘Truth or dare?’ I asked.
‘Uhm… truth. No, dare! Okay… I’ll take a truth rather. That’s my final answer.’
‘Alright then,’ I said. Priscilla waited anxiously.
‘Soooo…what’s the naughtiest thing you’ve ever done? Like, EVER?’ I asked her. She looked like someone who had just seen an easy question in an exam.
‘Oh, that’s simple. Once, my mom didn’t allow me to sleep over at my friend’s house, so I snuck out late at night. I even came back early the next morning and she didn’t find out,’ Priscilla said.
I was astonished. One should always be careful of people who are able to perform devious deeds with no remorse, and Priscilla was clearly one of those people. I was amazed by how she could speak about sneaking out for the whole night as if it’s a mild crime like stealing a biscuit from the pantry or staying up past your bedtime. I wondered what nefarious activities she would get up to when she grew older.
‘Well, that went better than I thought it would. It’s your turn to spin the bottle now,’ Priscilla said.
I brushed off my shock and grabbed the bottle. The bottle spun with the same fury as before, seeming determined to go on spinning forever. Despite this, the carpet managed to slow it down to a halt. The opening of the bottle pointed towards Priscilla, with the blunt end facing Florence. I knew she was going to think of something sinister.
‘Wow, my turn,’ Priscilla smirked. This can’t be good, I thought. ‘Truth or dare?’ she asked.
‘Truth, please,’ said Florence.
‘Come now, we haven’t had a dare yet. Be brave,’ Priscilla encouraged. ‘Okay, okay. I’ll do a dare,’ Florence said. Priscilla grinned menacingly. ‘I dare you toooooo…. kiss Florence on the lips!’ she ordered. Florence’s face dropped.
‘O-o-on the lips?’ Tatenda repeated.
‘Yes, the lips – those big things on your mouth,’ Priscilla sassed.
‘Do I really have to?’ Florence asked.
‘If you guys don’t wanna play then we can just end the game. It’s fine,’ Priscilla said, even though we could all see that it wasn’t fine.
‘Okay, I’ll do it,’ Florence said softly, looking at Tatenda. He stared at the carpet. Florence moved towards him, with intent now visible on her face. She had decided to it. ‘Come,’ she said. She was ready to do the deed. Tatenda, on the other hand, was trembling. He clearly wasn’t ready.
‘Are you sure you don’t wanna quit the game?’ I asked him, putting my hand on his shoulder. His eyes stared at me as if they were crying out for help.
‘N-no, I’ll do it,’ he confirmed. I wasn’t very convinced.
Florence leaned forward and puckered her lips. Tatenda leaned a little forward as well, fighting his whole body and soul in order to do it. It was happening. Florence and Tatenda were actually going to kiss. Florence closed her eyes. Tatenda closed his eyes too and took a deep breath. Their faces came closer together. Just as they were about to do it, the door swung open.
‘Hi guys, would you like some sandwi……ches,’ the babysitter said, bewildered by what she was seeing. ‘Uhm, what the hell are you guys doing!?’ she yelled, clearly unimpressed by what was going on.
Tatenda started breathing heavily. He wasn’t handling the situation well. ‘Uhm... we were just… I… it was her idea!’ Tatenda exclaimed, pointing fiercely at Priscilla. Not waiting to see Priscilla’s reaction, he made a run for it and stormed out of the room at full pace. The girls didn’t know how to react.
‘Hey, where are you going bro!?’ I called out, following him. He ran all the way down to the front door.
‘We shouldn’t have come here!’ Tatenda said with one hand on the doorknob.
‘Come on bro, we were having fun. I don’t think the babysitter was gana do anything!’ I stressed.
‘It doesn’t matter. I didn’t even want to play this stupid game!’ he said. ‘I’m leaving.’
It was clear that I wasn’t going to convince him to stay. If he was leaving, I would have to leave with him too. Our activities for the day were over.
After an awkward and silent walk home, Tatenda and I said our goodbyes and I finally arrived home. I wasn’t very worried about our friendship whenever we had fights because we always ended up sorting it out and moving on, sometimes even continuing after a fight as if nothing had happened. This time was no different, and I had no doubt that we would move on from how our visit to Priscilla ended.
Mother was still at work when I arrived home. She always left the key hidden under the mat in the backyard, outside the kitchen door. I was relieved to find the key under the mat, which signalled that Mother was still at work and thus wouldn’t shout at me for staying out too late. Mother was a vendor at a taxi rank in the city centre, selling whatever she could in order to raise some money for us. Mangoes were in season in late summer, so Mother’s stall consisted mostly of mangoes and sweets amongst other popular snacks. Even on a Saturday, she was enduring the scorching summer heat and doing her best to raise some money. Although I sometimes complained about not getting the latest toys or not having fancy food to eat, I knew deep down that Mother was doing her best to put food on the table. I was thankful for her efforts.
‘Hello, my boy,’ Mother greeted as she opened the door, trying – and failing – to force a smile. She was clearly exhausted. I rushed to take her bags and motioned her towards the couch. I removed her shoes and put a pillow behind her back. Her body was always sore after a long day at the taxi rank.
‘Are you alright, mama?’ I asked her.
‘Yes, Emmanuel, I’m good my boy. Just a little bit tired,’ she answered.
‘Okay mama, please try to relax.’ I pleaded.
‘Thank you, my son. I just need to rest. Anyways, how did your football match go today? Did my little Ronaldo score a goal?’ she asked.
‘It didn’t go well, mama,’ I responded. ‘I almost scored but I missed the shot. We only managed a draw,’ I bemoaned.
‘Don’t worry my boy, you’ll have many more games to play where you can score,’ she said optimistically. She was starting to sound like Tatenda.
‘I still feel bad about it. I missed an important chance for the team,’ I complained.
‘Hey, my boy, don’t talk like that! If your father were here, he wouldn’t be happy to see you like this. He would want you to hold your chin high and take this as a lesson. One game won’t define you!’ she insisted. ‘Now come give me a hug!’
I knew that she was right, but in that moment, all I wanted to do was wallow in my sorrows. Unfortunately, she was not going to let me do that. I accepted her warm embrace and accepted my failures. Even when she was exhausted and going through her own issues, Mother never failed to show me love.
‘Tell me, my boy, how are you finding school?’ Mother asked as she tucked me into bed.
It was my first term of ‘big school’ and I was slowly adjusting to being in grade one. ‘It’s going okay, mama. I think I’m getting used to it,’ I replied. For some reason, Mother didn’t seem so happy about it.
‘My son, I’m glad you’re enjoying school, but try not to get too comfortable,’ she said.
‘Why, mama? I thought you wanted me to enjoy going to school,’ I responded.
‘Well, the thing is, I don’t know how long you’ll be able to go to that school. In fact, I don’t know how much longer we’ll be living here,’ she said. I was taken aback.
‘Why do you say that?’ I asked.
‘My boy, sometimes things happen and life changes. Business has been slow at the taxi rank because everybody is opening up a stall nowadays. More people are losing their jobs every day and many of them come to the rank to try to earn some money. I haven’t been making as much as I used to,’ she said. I could see the pain in her eyes. ‘Today I got a call from the landlord. He says that if we don’t pay our overdue rent by next week, he’ll kick us out of the house,’ Mother said.
‘But I like living here, mama! What about Tatenda and everyone else? What about the neighbourhood? What about school!?’ I cried.
‘My son, I know it’s not an easy thing to hear, but we might have no choice but to leave everything and everyone behind,’ she said. ‘Things are getting awful in Zimbabwe and the economy is dying. We’ll have to leave the country.’
‘B-but where will we go?’ I asked. ‘We’ve always lived here.’
‘My son, we’re going to stay with my brother, Uncle Mufaro. He has a good job and is able to help us until I can get back on my feet. Besides, he says he misses you.’
‘But where does he stay?’ I asked.
‘Does he also stay in a place like Burnside?’ I enquired. ‘Maybe I can come to visit Tatenda on the weekends!’
‘My boy, we’re not going to be moving to a place that’s anything like Burnside,’ Mother said. ‘We’re moving to South Africa.’
Anesu Jahura is a young Zimbabwean writer residing in Cape Town, South Africa. He writes general fiction and nonfiction, as well as articles about pressing issues. His favourite activities are writing, weightlifting and spending quality time with his loved ones.
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