When Mukoma returned from Johannesburg, our homestead became the focus of the village's attention. He was the only young man in the village who walked around in a suit, the only young man around whom the village’s girls swarmed, the only one who did not work in the fields because he paid field hands; these field workers sometimes helped with the chores in the family. By family, I am talking about Mai's home, where Mukoma lived, having remained single after he had caused Bee's mother to leave him, five or so years earlier. If this confuses you, let me explain the hierarchy of our family.

          Our family consisted of smaller units that made up the large extended family’s compound, which sat between two hills. Mai, being the mother of my five half-brothers, was the heart of the family, so her home, consisting of three huts, was in the middle of the compound, a stone's throw away from each of her married sons’ homes. Since she now lived alone, except when Tukano, the widower from Chakavanda, was around or days when some of the field hands helped with house work, Mai had no use for the big square hut on stilts, so she gave it to Mukoma to use as his bedroom when he returned from South Africa. Since he had assumed my guardianship since the death of my father, Mukoma had me share the hut with him: he slept on the big bed that occupied much of the space, while I slept on the floor. In this big hut is where the Alice story began.

          Alice was Mukoma’s girlfriend of three months who visited during the day, actually in the morning, and spent many hours with my big brother. Often, she did not leave until sunset. On one or two occasions she left so late that Mukoma and I had to escort her all the way to her home, where we stood behind a bush near her gate as she crept in. Then one day something happened that would change these two lives forever.

          Alice spent the whole day at our home. Mai had travelled to Mafuva, a village near Masvingo, to attend a distant relative's funeral. In fact, she had told me she was going to spend a month helping her relatives with field work. "Listen to your brother," she had said. "You know how he acts if you don’t listen, and remember, he is like your father. Listen to him." I had promised Mai that I would listen. She did not have to mention, of course, what could happen if I did not do as commanded. I did not want to have to hear the explanation either. So Mai left, and the home became a real playground for Alice, who otherwise would not have wanted to be seen to disrespect Mai had she been around.

          On the day things changed, Alice spent much of her time in Mai’s kitchen, cooking and washing dishes; sometimes Mukoma joined her in the kitchen, and, at one time, I even saw him showing her how to fry something, telling her, "You have to make sure the cooking oil is not too hot; otherwise you mess this beautiful face, this little shiny moon," and she chuckling and replying, "I know. I know. My sister damaged her face frying eggs once. Since then I have always been careful, and for you, I’ll always make sure I keep this shiny moon of yours beautiful, without even a scratch!"  And so on, until plates were full with fried foods, and the room had that smell of things delicious, things I could only smell whenever Mukoma was back, smells Mai called "Mairosi’s smells of Joni", by which she meant Johannesburg, South Africa, but at that time I didn’t really know what she was talking about, except I knew about the nice smells he had brought. I knew.

          When the afternoon cooking was done and we had eaten, the two left me in the kitchen, gnawing on a chicken bone; they disappeared into the hut on stilts, and I knew then that I would have the remainder of the day to myself, with no one really paying attention to what I did. So I crushed the smaller bones I had saved for last, washed my hands good and wiped my mouth. This time I had no things stuck in my teeth so I didn’t have to waste time picking at my tooth with a thorn, so I decided to go look for Chari, my sometimes friend, whom I found playing alone on the hill near our compound. That was the thing with Chari: he never came to ask me if I wanted to play. All he did was come to the hill, knowing somehow that I would join him. And I always did, whenever I had the afternoon to myself and there was nothing Mukoma had told me to do.

          "Your mouth is shiny. So what did your maiguru cook you this time?" Chari asked, letting go of a metal object he was playing with.

          "What are you talking about?" I said, wiping my mouth.

          "I saw them together, climbing into your brother’s lair," he said. He always called our hut a "lair," as if Mukoma was some kind of leopard. But I liked that word, and I was proud to be part of the lair.

          I decided not to answer his question by suggesting that we go do something with the bees. Chari’s eyes lit, and we climbed to the top of the hill and entered the famous cave. We spent the whole afternoon trying to provoke the honey bees in one of the dark caves; we wanted them to come out and attack the village. "There is too much evil in this place," Chari had explained, and I nodded, so we lingered near a hole in the cave where the beehive was, threw little rocks and sticks to anger the bees, but they did not seem interested. They didn’t even try to attack us. Too bad—whatever village evil Chari wanted stung by the bees would be left untouched since the bees either didn’t see any evil or they just didn’t take us seriously. We knew that once they had attacked Tukano, pursued him from the top of the mountain to his home, which turned out to be no refugee since they entered every little space, attacking his wife, two dogs and a cat, causing the family to take off toward Runde river where they dove into a pond. It was said that the bees created a thick layer on the surface of the pond, waiting for them to surface. No one ever told us how long Tukano and his wife stayed under the water, but it was reported that the bees left eventually and sang their victory chorus on their way back to the mysterious cave. The cave was no mystery to Chari and I, and the bees didn’t seem to care that much about us. So we left and played elsewhere.

          At sunset I went back home and found Alice in the kitchen, cooking again.

          I proceeded to brother's hut and found him looking at one of the magazines he had brought from South Africa, the one he always told me not to touch, even though I ended up wanting to touch it, especially after Chari, my sometimes friend, had told me, "You better touch it!" But I knew not to dare touch it because Mukoma has promised that he would not fail to make his fist greet my mouth, and the last thing I wanted on this earth was to let any part of me near his massive fist, which I had seen demolishing Sivavi, the village drunk. Sivavi was never quite the same after that fist fight, which had not really been a fight because no sooner had it started did Mukoma hammer him on the forehead, sending him flying into a nearby thorny bush. I couldn’t touch his magazines; let him look at his magazines alone.

          After I had settled on a small stool in the room, Mukoma closed his magazine and looked at me. His eyes were tired little pits, but roving still, as if they were suspicious of something I would or would not do. I lowered mine, which accidentally landed on the magazine that now rested on the floor. I quickly shifted them from there and they returned to those of Mukoma, where they better remain, because I was about to be told something important, and when he told me something important, Mukoma wanted me to look straight at him.

          "Tonight you sleep in Mai's kitchen. We have a special guest." He paused and pursed his lips, one side forming into a smile, the other maintaining a profile of seriousness. Then the lips dropped fashionably, something that I associated with his having spent too much time in South Africa. "Of course, you know her—you spent the day with her!"

          I smiled. I knew her. I would be glad to sleep in the kitchen, especially tonight, of all nights. The fish, the chicken and whatever else was being fried, boiled, baked, and roasted in there. I smiled again.

          "Make sure you don't wet Mai's mat. If you do, I will— Do I even need to tell you what will happen?"

          "No," I said. "I'll not water the garden."

          "Good. You are a big man now. You are starting school in two weeks, so you are a big man."

          "I'm very big, yes."

          "Good. Now go sit with your maiguru."

          I found Alice eating a piece of fish, which she tried to hide when she heard me entering, but then resumed eating it when she saw me. She gave me a small piece too, and we sat while she cooked. I thought Alice was pretty. Everyone in the village thought she was. People always talked about how light her skin was and they said the man to marry her would be very lucky. Since she had returned from Bulawayo, she had been a name on the lips of many people. Even the bigger boys I played with would say things like she was attractive, and some, especially Chari, had always wished they were old enough for her. Chari stopped saying that when Alice started spending some time with Mukoma, who was way older than her. Once at the men’s bathing corner in Runde, Njanji, the only unmarried, white-haired man in the village, had said that Alice was perfect for Mukoma, who he said needed someone younger to spend his South African money with. So she was here, my maiguru, frying fish.  

          This time she made two plates of sadza and two small plates of the fish. She showed me my plates and left with the other plates, balancing them with both hands. I was left to eat alone in the kitchen, which I liked because I could eat and sing if I wanted to. They ate there in the big hut and no one came to check on me. That was fine; I was a big man now. When I finished all the soup, I took some more from the pot. I even broke a piece from a big bream and ate it without any worry. Alice was nice, and her cooking was delicious.  

          That night she slept in brother’s hut.

          I did not see when she left in the morning because I woke up well after the sun had risen. Outside, I found brother walking into the compound; he was coming from somewhere—maybe the river, or Chigorira hill, which we used to relieve ourselves since back then we had no toilets.  He smiled at me and walked straight to his hut, and when he started climbing into the house, he turned to me and said, "Don't disturb me by trying to get in here. I have to sleep some more." He then disappeared into the house before I had a chance to reply. I did not need to sleep some more because in Mai's hut I had had a sound sleep. No dreams of running away from ghosts, or of flying over rivers and mountains to places I did not know. I had had dreams of swimming with fish, of feasting on Alice’s food: fried chicken, fish, and lots of sweets. In that dream, Alice had been cooking lots of food, heaping big pieces of different kinds of meat on my plate before she smiled and left to join brother. She had cooked many times, heaped mountains of meat on my plate many times, and had left, many times, to join Mukoma in the giant hut. With thoughts of my dreams, I walked back toward the kitchen. I wanted to look for something to eat; I could either eat the leftovers from yesterday’s lunch, the sadza and chicken stew, or I could go for the fish. But before I could even open the door to the hut I saw what made my heart flutter.

          Opening our gate was Alice's big brother, who had no shirt on. Misheki, another well-known fighter in the village, was walking into our compound like he owned it. Alice walked behind him, her arms folded. What raised my curiosity and fears is that he carried an axe on his shoulder, a knobkerrie in his left hand and what looked like a spear in his right hand. Spear? People did not just walk around with spears unless they were going to a gathering of honoring the ancestors, where they would use them when the spirit-possessed acted like they were in war. I didn’t like the look of these two walking further in, and I knew Mukoma would  not be very happy seeing a shirtless man, fully armed, walking into his mother’s compound like this. But then Alice, why was she avoiding looking at me? Was something going on that Mukoma had not told me about?  

          I watched the two walk by me like I was not there. They proceeded straight to my brother's door. Misheki stopped in front of the door, leaned the knobkerrie and spear against each of his thighs and held the axe with both hands, poised like he was about to hack into the door. I wanted to pick up something, a rock or stick and throw it on the roof to awaken Mukoma. Misheki tilted his head to Alice, and then made a swift nod, signaling her to move forward. Alice tiptoed to the door like she was afraid to hurt the ground. She tapped on the door, again careful not to hurt it.

          "Knock harder!" said her brother, and she did as commanded. The door swung open and brother’s face, deformed by sleep or anger, appeared first, then his whole body followed, shirtless too. I watched as his face stretched with surprise when he saw the other shirtless man standing next to his shivering sister; then he softened and gave a brief smile, which was followed by another look of confusion, which he fought hard, but that look turned into something I had seen only on the face of someone apologetic. There was a moment of extended silence like nothing on earth was moving anymore. As if to rescue the earth from total silence, I coughed and moved closer to the scene.

          "Can I help you?" asked Mukoma in a voice I had never heard him use: soft, low, even suggesting some sweetness.

          "You know this woman?" asked Alice's brother, voice so hoarse I could safely say a donkey had spoken.

          Mukoma did not answer right away. His eyes scanned the place, first shifting from Misheki and landing on Alice. They lit, but darted away as they caught my presence. When they averted and resettled on Misheki, they dulled a bit when Mukoma said, "You found out about us, didn't you?" I thought this was said with more ease than the situation required. But if you knew Mukoma, you wouldn’t have been surprised.

          Misheki dashed dangerously closer to Mukoma, who backed, respectfully, and raised his hands in the surrender posture Chari had once demonstrated to me when he was explaining how soldiers surrendered to the comrades when they started to lose. Mukoma's surrender seemed a bit playful, and he looked at Misheki as if he was supposed, as a man, to know how these things worked. "How these things worked," a phrase I had heard Chari use when he was talking to Tendi, a girl whose mother had no husband. Tendi, of course, always laughed and walked away to do her chores, and Chari would say, "She likes me," and I would cough in agreement.

          Misheki seemed to have understood something because he lowered the axe, actually put it down, but suddenly grabbed the spear and knobkerrie. I didn’t want to see a fight, not another one. A few weeks earlier Mukoma had thrashed Mai Linda’s new husband at a beer gathering, and I did not like how people talked about that fight. Mukoma had not told me about that fight, which means even he thought he had gone too far, had crossed the boundaries of fighting, as he once told me. But with the way Misheki was acting, shaking his little axe and spear in brother’s face, doing so in front of the man’s girlfriend, oh no, things could turn ugly really fast. I moved closer to them. Alice made as if to walk away, but her brother said, "You come here, stand as close to this man as possible. I want him to take a good look at you and declare he knows you. Otherwise someone dies today."

          Brother laughed, almost a chuckle, again seeming to remind Misheki that he was someone who should understand. But Misheki stiffened, fluffed his wings like a rooster and made as if he was about to enter the house to murder someone. Brother stood up, reached behind the door and revealed a spear. It was one of the items that he had commanded me not to touch, and the only time I had seen him holding it was when he was possessed; they said his spirit was that of a man who had been a Shangani warrior and hunter in Mozambique. Now only a spirit, people said he, like other spirits, enjoyed taking the living for a ride. So brother became a Shangani warrior and hunter when he was possessed; the one time I had seen him possessed, long before he left for South Africa, he had swung his spear as he leapt in the air and chased animals no one could see. But brother never talked about his spirit; in fact, he once told me he did not want it known by everyone that he got possessed sometimes, adding, "If you open your mouth to anyone about it, you know what this fist will do to you." So I never really opened my mouth, except in shock when he now descended the two stairs of his hut with the spear leading the way ahead of him. Then when the spear was dangerously close to Misheki, Mukoma stopped and restrained his arm.

          Misheki backed up a bit, but then dashed forward, raising his spear higher and poising the knobkerrie like he could have bashed Mukoma’s knee at any time.

          "Do we need to go through this, Mairos?" Misheki growled, and then he grabbed Alice by the arm and pulled her so that she was made to stand, shivering still, silent, and tearful, between the two men. "Here is your wife, and like a good brother-in-law, welcome me in your home properly—accept your responsibility."

          There was a moment of deep silence. Even as I stood there looking at them, all I could hear was Alice’s breathing. Brother put away the spear, and descended from the hut as Alice and Misheki opened enough room for him. Even I backed some to allow all the room they needed. I chewed my lower lip, my ears ready to hear what Mukoma was about to say. Mukoma, my guardian, the only young man walking around in a suit in the village, the only man around whom all village girls worth talking about swarmed—what was he going to do? He stretched and straightened, and looking first at me then at Alice, said, "That's what you should have said. Of course, my wife can stay here." He paused. "I thought you had come to tell me she can't come here ever again. Thank you."

          At that point Misheki pushed Alice forward, then turned around and began walking away, hitting the ground hard with his brown boots. But before he covered much distance, he stopped, turned to look at the couple and said, pointing at brother with his spear, "You know what to do next. We’ll give you one week to do the right thing. After that, we’ll welcome you to the family and everybody will start smiling again. But if you take longer than a week, someone is going to be harmed."

          "Give me two days," shouted Mukoma, who then took his wife into the house and closed the door.

          Misheki stood there for a moment, looking at the closed door. He shook his head, smiled, and walked away. I too looked at the closed door for a moment, but then I remembered that before the arrival of Misheki and brother’s wife I had been trying to open the kitchen door, so I walked back, opened and entered the kitchen to see what food was waiting for me.









Emmanuel Sigauke grew up in Zimbabwe, where he studied English and Linguistics at the University of Zimbabwe. He helped found the Zimbabwe Budding Writers Association, for which he served as National Secretary from 1992 to 1995. He moved to California in 1996 and studied English at Sacramento State University. He teaches composition and writing at Cosumnes River College and is one of the editors of Cosumnes River Journal. His poetry has appeared in various journals in Zimbabwe, Finland, United States and Ireland, and he is the editor of Munyori Poetry Journal. His column at Zonenet: Zimbabwe Online Radio focuses on the political and economic situation in Zimbabwe.