REMINISCES
OF A MISSION BOY[1]
By Tererai
R. Mafukidze
Sis muForm 3
It
was at the beginning of 1987. I had arrived at a huge school with double-story
classrooms. The diet was a dramatic improvement for someone coming out of
Driefontein (‘Dria’). Our diet at Dria was what is called a spare diet. We had
in my last year of primary school been relieved of the child labour that had
been a huge yoke round our necks. We were no longer required to work in the big
Shashe plantations for many hours every week. Someone had intervened. Whoever
it was, may the Lord bless his or her soul. My great and wonderful memories of
Dria are always coloured by the pain of the child labour, the spare diet and
the unsanitary dormitory conditions. And so, getting to Gokomere High School
was honestly a major change in lifestyle. While some schoolmates mourned about
the conditions at Gokomere, those of us who had been to Dria honestly found
life a lot more comfortable.
A
few days after we had ‘finished’ grade 7 in October 1986, Samora Machel was tragically
killed in a plane crash while flying over South Africa. We had been allowed to
go home and enjoy the long holiday pending the commencement of form one in
January 1987. I followed the news of his death with great relish. I knew almost
every detail of his life by heart. And so, when Mrs Knottenbelt, our form one
English teacher, informed us that we would have a public speaking contest I
felt that I could do a speech. I chose to speak about Samora Machel. My class speech
won and I earned the right to represent my class Form 1A in the school competition.
The junior division was for form 1, 2 and 3s. I came second to Shirlyn in the
semi-finals. In the finals, I won the top prize. I was the junior public
speaking champion!
And
so, suddenly, within 3 months of arriving at Gokomere, I had become a
mini-celebrity! Virtually everyone knew my name. My voice, which has refused to
break, was mimicked incessantly. Especially by the bigger girls! It was very
embarrassing, but there was not much I could do. I still have people I meet 25
years later, and mimic my speeches!
Sis muForm 3
And
so, it happened that three girls came to visit Netsai in our form 1 class
during the break. One of the three girls was an extremely beautiful girl. When
I set my eyes upon her, I melted. I had never seen such beauty. When the three
girls left, I went up to Netsai and said to her;
‘Who
is that girl? I love her!’
Netsai
rolled with laughter and she shouted;
‘Ndonovaudza
chete...ndiSis X...! MuForm 3! She is our prefect at Stone House!’
Netsai
danced with excitement. I was in shock. I knew I had messed up. I should have
just kept my admiration to myself. I did not think the girl was in form 3. I
thought she was in form 1 like me! I begged Netsai all day to protect me. But this
was too juicy to keep under a lid. I had messed up!
On
the next day, Netsai came to class wearing the broadest ‘you-are-in-deep-shit’
look I had ever seen. I knew she had sold me out. I was in trouble. She
confirmed my worst fears. I was in deep trouble. How could a form 1 boy love a
form 3 girl? How? It was an abomination. I had breached one basic rule of
Gokomere life. There were no cougars in our day. There would be no Ashton
Kutcher and Demi Moore. I was in deep, deep trouble.
While
sitting at my desk at break time that day, I lifted up my eyes only to see, to
my horror, the subject of my admiration in the company of her two friends. I
have never been so frightened in my life. I wanted the earth to swallow me. I
wanted to jump into the desk and hide with the books. I wanted to fly out of
the classroom and run. It was too late. I started to sweat. She had, overnight,
become the Monster. On that day, I realised how true it is that one is secure
with love unexpressed. Once expressed, one is vulnerable to hurt, rejection and
in my case, I imagined, mortal violence.
I
sat still. I tried to disbelieve their presence but they kept walking towards
my desk. I froze. I was damned. Netsai had sent me to the slaughter. My
vaulting ambition had sent me crashing on the other side of the horse. I was in
deep, deep shit. Three form 3 girls against the fickle force of a romantic form
1 boy was a ‘no contest’. I turned round to look at Netsai. She was nowhere to
be found. These girls had come for me! I was shaking. I was about to die. How
‘love’ can quickly turn into ‘fear’! I wanted to kneel down and apologise
before they said anything. My mouth went dry. I could not utter any word. The
three musketeers had come for me!
Sis muForm 3
was in front. She started to smile. That famous ‘I know’ smile! I was in deep,
deep shit. After what seemed to be the endless descent of the guillotine, they
got to my desk.
‘Hesi
Tererai!’ she said.
I
don’t remember if I answered. Her friends similarly greeted me. I don’t
remember if I answered either. I was busy making my final prayers. I was in
deep, deep shit. Then they started a conversation. They asked me about school
and many subjects I cannot remember. I am not sure I uttered anything in
response. I was just fearful of facing up to what I had disclosed to Netsai. I just
kept my eyes glued to my desk.
After
what seemed like ages, they merrily said good bye. And they left. I felt a heavy
load fall on me. I had survived. But the hunter had become the hunted. I was in
deep, deep shit. I knew for certain that I did not ‘love’ her anymore!
On
their way out, they must have met Netsai somewhere because when she returned to
class, she was laughing uncontrollably. She was having a great time. She wanted
to know whether I had ‘seen my girl’! I wasn’t enjoying it. She definitely was.
I was in deep, deep shit. For many months afterwards, Sis muForm 3 became a permanent feature in my social life. She
would visit me weekly, sometimes alone and sometimes with her two escorts. Many
times I would disappear and return just before the bell went off, so that she
would never find me. But she seemed to enjoy the cat and mouse game. She would
corner me at times. I was the elusive ‘lover’!
The
story of my romantic ambition must have gone viral at the hostels judging by the
number of ‘big’ girls who greeted me with quizzical smiles thenceforth. After
almost a year, my fear had subsided. Sis
muForm 3 was now a ‘normal’ friend...a good one at that! I could now
converse with her without trembling. I became comfortable in her presence.
As
was the practice in those days, the social network constituted of a book. When
you dated a girl, she would give you a handwritten profile which was called an
‘autobio’. It had her star sign, birthday, favourite food, favourite sport,
favourite actor/ actress, favourite music, favourite songs, hobbies etc. In
fact, a dear friend once dated a Zimuto girl who gave one of her hobbies as
‘smooching’! But that’s a story for
another day!
At
the end of the year, it was a practice for form 4 and 6 girls to circulate an ‘autobio’
book to friends to author their memories of them. At the end of 1988, Sis muForm 3, now in form 4, came to me with
her ‘autobio’ book. She wanted me to write my memories of her. As I opened it,
I was shocked to find that I had been given the honour of occupying the First
Page. That honour usually belonged to the best friend or someone special. On
the top of each page, she had written quotes that she would remember each
writer by. For me, there was no escaping. There in bold were the words that
nearly cost me my life:
‘Netsai,
musikana uyo anohi ani? Ndinozomuda!’
We
became and still are great friends 25 years afterwards!
Vincere Caritate!
©
Tererai R Mafukidze, Gokomere 1987-1992
The first in series of my personal reminisces of
life during Mission days. Please respect the anonymity given to protagonists.
[1] This is a series of
personal recollections of a life spent at Catholic Mission boarding schools. © Tererai R Mafukidze
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