Chapter 2
It is impossible; you might say that I was born homeless. I don’t know, maybe I had parents who had a home and who had loved me and fed me. I blocked all that, you see. I never remembered because, I didn’t want to remember. The pain was so much that my broken up heart could only take that much. I chose to forget a lot – I blocked off quite a lot. I didn’t want to live on yesterday as there was nothing to live on.
One teacher called me a mwendawazimu once, when I was registering for school. She had just moved into the town. I doubt if she would have let me register if she was a local. I doubt if anybody had told her about the curse. She couldn’t understand how all my answers could be “I don’t know”. I never tell anyone that I couldn’t remember things as I knew nobody would ever believe that memories can be blocked off and never to be retrieved again. But there are some things about myself I honestly just did not know.
“What’s your father’s name?’ she had asked without looking up. Her eyes on the register she was filling.
“I don’t know.”
“What’s your mother’s name?” She grunted as she asked – as if she was expecting the same answer, but went on writing.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t seem to know anything,” she had finally looked up. “So what is it that you know about yourself?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I don’t know.”
“Wewe ni mkorofi, eh?” She had now lifted the ruler that was on her table.
“No Mwalimu.”
“Or you are playing mental, ain’t you? I don’t have time to waste, you hear me?”
I looked down again as I didn’t know what to say.
“You have gone dumb now?”
“No Mwalimu.”
“Are you now going to answer me?” she eyed me sternly.
“Yes Mwalimu.
“What’s your father’s name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Go call your parents! Go now! I am not going to register you into my class unless I see your parents! Mwendawazimu wee!”
I didn’t move as I didn’t know where to go. I think she saw the hesitant look on my face.
“Ain’t you going? Where are your parents?”
“I don’t know.”
I have stolen before – a few times. That I would never ever forget. I chose not to block that off, I chose to have those experiences engraved in my mind so that I never ever repeat it again. Though I did get tempted to nick something, so many times.
The neighbourhood looked empty one evening, as if everybody has locked themselves in, leaving the wandering night spirits to roam through the valleys of darkness. I was worn out, demented by the day’s failures. I was so famished; I thought I was feeling the hunger of a hundred omba omba children. I later found myself walking along the banks of the beach, as I slowly hobbled by the sandy banks, I thought of my fantasy of wanting to swim in the crystal-clear waters in the day light and basking in the warm afternoon sun as other boys did.
Empty bottles, sea weed and coconut shells flooded along the shore. Slowly and lazily I limped. The sand was still warm from the afternoon sun, soothing my tired feet. I enjoyed the feeling of the sand between my calloused and cracked toes, with my bad foot I was dragging sand like a plough. For a while I was in another world. Sighing, I wished it were all a bad dream – my failure, my destitute – my whole life.
My eyes stung – from tiredness and hunger. My sensitive skin was dried and patched from exposure to the hot afternoon sun. I looked up, dark clouds hovered, threatening to break out into a heavy downpour. A shiver ran down my spine. Even my baobab tree would not offer enough shelter from the rain if it poured, I thought, but atleast my skin would be relieved. I drew my threadbare shirt that was missing most of its buttons and drew it around me. The scent of salt and sea hit my drained face. I inhaled deeply the fresh salty breeze, wishing I was in the warmth of a bed with my mother singing me a lullaby. Quickly I shook my head to erase the memories that were trying to force their way back. I stopped and wondered if they were mere memories or wishful thinking. Again I shook my head, sighed heavily and limped on.
The horizon danced with small flickering lights. It was tiny lights from karabai lamps in distant dhows dancing on the dark horizon. A few fishermen cladded in msuli were still at shore preparing to paddle into the deep waters where there was catch. Slowly and carefully I limped to one of them.
“Baba, can I help,” I whispered. If only I get into the deep waters, then I would be able to catch some breakfast and maybe lunch for myself, I silently thought.
The short bearded man in a dirty msuli looked at me, screwing his thick lips into a pensive pout. His wet msuli clung to his strong legs. He looked at me with vehemence. I knew when I wasn’t wanted and quickly I left.
Then I spotted a pleasant looking young man with clear skin and white teeth. His teeth seemed to glimmer against his dark mahogany skin as he smiled. His tee shirt read “I Love Jesus.” Like a moth to a flame I seemed to be drawn to him. I felt something akin to hope. Maybe he would let me help, I thought. If only he would then I would have something to eat.
“Kaka, can I help,” I asked sorrowfully, “for food please.”
“Can you paddle?” He asked, his white teeth gleaming in the dark night.
“Yes,” I replied eagerly.
I didn’t wait for him to say anything else, quickly I jumped into the dhow. As I paddled, I thanked the Gods for White Teeth.
“I’ll be back in the morning,” he called out.
“Thank you,” I yelled. “Thank you kaka.”
Within minutes my net was heavy with catch. Strength seemed to seep back into my tired bones from excitement. The Gods seemed to have been with me as by morning the small dhow was filled to the brink with fish. As I slowly paddled the dhow back to shore, I stopped and threw the net back in, just to catch some breakfast and maybe lunch too for myself.
I made a small fire as I waited for White Teeth as the morning was cold, colder than the evening. Maybe I could have a little to eat as I waited, I thought. Excited I started cleaning up a fish. The fire was warm. I thought of the young man with white teeth. Maybe he was a vicar’s son – with his bright, warm and enthusiastic smile. Maybe he will be my friend. Nobody had ever smiles at me like that before. Yes, maybe he would be my first ever friend, I thought.
“Hey,” I heard his warm voice behind me. “You’re done?”
“Yes kaka,” I got up quickly, wiping the sand from my behind with my hands.
“What have we have here?” he was looking at my opened up fish. “You are stealing from me now?”
“No,” I stammered. “I didn’t steal kaka. I fished these after I was done.”
“You are stealing from me now?” He bellowed. His voice cutting through the still of the morning.
I suddenly felt myself being half carried, half dragged. With my hands I tried to protest, my feet kicking the sand. White Teeth then kicked me. For a while I managed to block the kicks, but White Teeth kicked me in the side. I felt I had to stay standing as I knew I would be an easy target on the ground.
From the corner of my eye I saw someone rushing to me with a cane. By the time the cane hit my head, I felt I was half dead. I winced and closed my eyes – willing death to take me. The strength that I felt earlier escaped me. I couldn’t get up to run nor fight back. I laid there, letting the cane and the kicks find their mark. My mind worked on and off between screams and tears. I didn’t steal, my mind screamed. I could hear people walking past me – some giggling – I knew they were laughing at me.
I thought of White Teeth – I felt confused. White teeth was just like the rest of them - he was foe not a friend. My face was wet with tears. White teeth then called somebody. I closed my eyes and waited. For the unknown.
Painfully I forced myself to open my eyes. As I forced my eyes open, all the other senses immediately woke up. The pain. The smell. The coldness. I was overwhelmed by what I felt. My teeth rattled badly as the bitter hand of the wind chilled the very marrow of my bones. The throbbing was so intense that I whimpered in pain. The stench was so powerful, I almost passed out again. Two young girls then passed, giggling and pointing. Painfully I turned to look at what they had been pointing at. My bladder had emptied itself. I was sure it wasn’t just my the release of my bladder I could smell, but I had no strength to turn and find out.
“You wanted food?” White teeth’s voice was not friendly anymore. It was cold as steel. “Did you want food? Answer me!”
“Yes, kaka,” I whimpered.
“Here!” He threw the fish at me.
I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to reach over and take them but I was too sore to move. With the remaining strength I had, I tried to reach over. I stretched, my trembling fingers almost touching the fish that was closest to me. Just then, I felt something warm trickling on my hand. Then somebody giggled. Then another. I looked up. White Teeth was relieving himself on the fish – my would have been meal in days.
