Echoes Of The Heart

Episode 15

Aunt Tafadzwa had just finished peeling her pile of sweet potatoes and was ready to put them on the brazier when her attention was caught by the Pajero that parked into front of her house.

Living in the backdrops of Kanyama, cars like that could only be seen during funerals and weddings…and there was nothing like that happening in the neighbourhood that fateful morning.

Thus, when a posh looking woman wearing an expression that could only be matched to that of one forced to drop her nose in a pile of cow dang came out of the vehicle and stood outside her grim wired make-shift gate, Aunt Tafadzwa was forced to pause her activities and stare in awe at the scene unfolding before her.

For what felt like an hour, the woman just stood there glaring into the yard from over the short hedge as if the act itself could get the gate to open without her having to lift a finger.

Aunt Tafadzwa could not make out who the woman was given that half of her face was covered by her gigantic sunglasses.
However, even without the shades, her shiny lips, neatly styled razor cut, DVF gown with well-matched shoes and purse said she was someone from another universe.

As Aunt Tafadzwa looked on from Inside the yard, wondering whether the rude looking woman was going to come in or not, she put her cooking tools down and waited for the woman to make a move.

Mrs Mwewa wondered why the woman staring at her was not coming over to open the gate for her. She tried motioning for her to open the gate but the woman only shrugged her shoulders in response.

Does she expect me to touch this filthy looking thing she considers a gate? Mrs Mwewa thought as she hovered her finger over the said gate, her face ridden with disgust.
“ Nga tauleingila bwekela eko ufumine, ” Aunt Tafadwa shouted from where she was standing, her hands resting on either side of her waist.

She speaks Bemba ? Mrs Mwewa said and smiled instinctively as she removed her sunglasses. “ Mulishani mayo,” she greeted.
“Are you going to enter or not?” Aunt Tafadzwa asked again, not bothering to mask her irritation. “If you put your hand on the gate and push it forward, it will open.”
Stubborn woman, how can she not be fazed by someone like me ? Mrs Mwewa stretched her leg, pushed the gate using her foot and entered the yard.
“How may I help you?” Aunt Tafadzwa asked sternly.
“Are you Bemba by any chance?” Mrs Mwewa asked.

Aunt Tafadzwa threw her an are you serious kind of look.
“You spoke Bemba earlier….” Mrs Mwewa provided.
“Only because I assumed you are Bemba. It’s typical of Bemba women to act the way you did when they visit someone’s home.”
“I find your stereotyping offensive,” Mrs Mwewa shot back.
“Had I not spoken Bemba, would you have entered the yard on your own? You stood there close to five minutes acting like the Queen of England, expecting the whole lot of me to come running to you…. You do know that even the Queen removes her own poop from her a-s with her own hands right?”
Okay, I get your point,” Mrs Mwewa said. “I didn’t come here to fight with you…I came all the way here to negotiate with you.”
“Negotiate with me? Do you know me?”
“I got to know about you two weeks ago,” Mrs Mwewa answered. “Is there somewhere we can sit?” She was looking at the Mango tree in the corner of the yard where a mat was la!d out below it.
“Do you have a stool or something? I am not a mat person.”
Aunt Tafadzwa wanted stared at her peevishly, her nose enlarging in the process. She grabbed the stool she had been sitting on whilst preparing her food and carried it to the tree. She placed it down to the side and sat down on the mat.
Mrs Mwewa removed a piece of cloth from her purse and la!d it on top of the stool before sitting down as Aunt Tafadzwa looked on discordantly, offended by the woman’s out-right impolite behaviour.
“So how may I help you?” A belligerent Aunt Tafadzwa asked.
“Don’t you know who I am?” Mrs Mwewa arrogantly asked.
Aunt Tafadzwa threw her another peevish look. “I’m I supposed to know who you are?”

Mrs Mwewa was outraged. “I am on television and in the papers almost every week, my family too. Are you telling me you don’t know who Mr Martin Mwewa is?”
“No,” came the curt response.
“We own half of the property in this country. Gosh, don’t you read or watch TV?”
“What do you want from me?” Aunt Tafadzwa completely brushed her off.
“Haven’t you heard anything about me or my family from your niece?” The disappointed woman asked.
“Did Sibu do something against your rich family?” She asked sarcastically.
“As a matter of fact, she did.”
“And so you came to me to complain?” The woman wasn’t moved in the slightest.
Mrs Mwewa’s chagrin grew a few inches wider. “I take it you and your niece aren’t very close…I thought you were the only family she has.”
“Look here Mrs Mwelya or whatever they call you,” Aunt Tafadzwa snapped. “What exactly brings you here?”
The plutocrat representative cleared her throat noisily. “Your niece got pregnant by my son, were you aware?”
Finally, there was real emotion on Aunt Tafadzwa’s face. She was petrified, but only for a few seconds. “Sibu, pregnant?” she scoffed. “I think you have the wrong girl.”
“Sibusiswe Hangaala, eighteen years old, works as a front desk manager for M&M, and the breadwinner of Tafadzwa N’cube’s family. Did I get it right?”
“Sibu is pregnant?” It seemed the truth had finally sunk in. “No wonder she’s been avoiding me like crazy these past few months. I hope your family is ready to pay for damages…like you said, that girl is the breadwinner of this family. I certainly won’t accept some b—–d child into the family. Your son will have to take full responsibility.”
As Aunt Tafadzwa was talking, Mrs Mwewa gaped at her in total disbelief. “Is that all you have to say to me?” She asked. “No wonder the child went off and s£duced the first rich guy she came across. I can only imagine what it must be like being raised by someone like you.”

Aunt Tafadzwa gawked at her visitor, her arms up on her waist. “If you insist on insulting me, then I will go to the nearest TV station and tell anyone willing to listen that the son of one of the richest people in the country raped my niece and made her pregnant.”

“What?” Mrs Mwewa was up on her feet.
“You heard me,” Aunt Tafadzwa stood up as well and faced off with the stranger. “Didn’t you say that you are some big person and your family owns this and that? If you thought coming here in your fancy clothes and car would intimidate me into ordering my niece to leave your son alone, then you got your calculations all wrong. I had no idea my niece was so talented…” and speaking in a lower register, more to herself than her guest, she added, “she went and caught herself a big fish and thought she could hide everything from me….”
“What did you just say?” Mrs Mwewa asked.
Aunt Tafadzwa blinked, waved her hand across her face and smirked. “Never mind that,did you come here to talk about the marriage?”
“What marriage?” Mrs Mwewa didn’t take well to being deafen at her own game. “You think I am going to let my precious son marry someone like your niece? You must be deluded.”

“Then why are you here…and what do you intend to do about my niece whom your precious son has defiled?”
Mrs Mwewa scoffed. “Defiled?” She muttered. “Anyway, I think you and your niece need to sit down and catch up because that girl had a miscarriage only a few days ago and I am not surprised she chose to keep it a secret from you.”
Aunt Tafadzwa froze.