Reminisces of a Mission Boy: I lost My Maiguru

REMINISCES OF A MISSION BOY

I Lost My Beloved ‘Maiguru’

The Headmaster Mr. Mushonga had a way of re-enforcing discipline. Whenever a very serious act of mischief occurred, he would take the opportunity at the next Assembly warn the innocent or the not-yet-caught about misbehaviour. Who can forget the day he came to Assembly and said;

‘There are some of you who want to marry!’

Being old school Catholic, he pronounced ‘marry’ like ‘maari’! After the usual burst of laughter, he would add;

‘Please be warned, once you are caught, you will be in trouble! I thank you!’

Many times he would never give you a hint on who the mischief involved, leaving the efficient mission gossip mills to go full steam. Sometimes he was generous or unguarded. He would ‘innocently’ add;

‘May I see the following immediately after assembly: Orange, Banana and Zai!’

There were times in Mushonga’s quiet demeanour gems would be unleashed. Who can ever forget the day he came to assembly and announced;

‘You must learn good manners. An A’level student, not a Form 1 student, came to my office on Friday and said, “Headmaster, give me my pass!”

Or when Pepukai “Pepsi” Tanyongana hastily put together a Gokomere ‘Rugby’ team to play Victoria High School. The team had Manjeru, Ziki, Masango, George Govere, Lazie Chipembere and several other ‘heavyweights’. Many of them had never touched a Rugby ball in their lives. He trained the boys using a soccer ball for 2 days in Field C. And off they went, sponsored by the sceptical Headmaster. During the next Assemby, he called Pepsi down to give the results to the entire school. Our ‘Rugby’ team had lost! 0-46!

With a typical cryptic smile and a tilted head, the Headmaster offered the following sympathies:

‘I told them before they left, that they were going to lose!’

The Secret Society

Boarding school is like a secret society. It has its own unwritten rules, passed on to the next stream silently and without discussion. One of the rules of boarding school was that you had a responsibility over the juniors who came from your former school or from your neighbourhood. Sometimes neighbourhood simply meant the large expanse that is Harare. Even the bullies knew that before they touched a junior, they needed to know whether he had a connection to an important or senior person. A misstep was very costly.

Where no big brother existed, having an older beautiful sister made you bully-proof! Everyone liked a junior with a nice sister...just in case!

This unwritten rule made things quite tough for those who came to Gokomere from obscure schools, whether primary or secondary. One had to partner a ‘protected’ junior in order to get surrogate protection. If your school got too obscure, there was the risk of you being named after it! Who can ever forget Andrew? Andrew who you ask! That guy who had a yellow complexion. When he came for his A ‘levels at Gokomere, he disclosed that he was coming from ‘Mazoe Boys High’! From that moment he was known throughout the school as ‘Mazoe’! As his legend grew, the exact source of his nickname was forgotten. Many believed his complexion had earned him the nickname. But Mazoe was a jolly good fellow!

The misfortune of being named after your school befell my good friend and MC at my wedding, Agrippa. For having come from Dewure to Gokomere for his A’levels, he earned himself the moniker ‘Dewure’! And Dewure he became. His former schoolmates never understood how one young man could adopt the name of an entire school.

Oh, by the way I had a drink ten years ago with ‘Kajarina’. Didn’t we have a great laugh about his nickname and mission days!

 I digress. Nicknames are stories for another day.

Brotherhood of the Mission

And so when I arrived at Gokomere, I had many brothers to look after me. One of the greatest benefits of this circumstance was that you suddenly had a ‘maiguru’ if Mukoma was a charmer. One of my many brothers was such a charmer. Maiguru was an extremely affable girl. She would seek me out many times just to check whether I was well. She would ask me to ‘escort’ her to the hostels, a really ‘adult’ and pleasurable enterprise in Mission life.

One of the unwritten rules observed even by a vicious school authority was that a young boy in the company of a ‘big’ girl was not committing any mischief. This innocence was not assumed in favour of the big boys. So, it was a common sight to see big girls being ‘escorted’ by small boys. Yes, we were sophisticated enough to call it ‘kueskota’! It was a fringe benefit of being a ‘babamunini’.

There were other benefits too. Sometimes a few food parcels came your way. If she became a prefect in your dining hall, ‘seconds’ was guaranteed! You also got some laundry done. When the time was right, Maiguru could arrange and promote you to a ‘nice’ girl of your age!

On movie nights...I lie! We had ‘firimu’! On film nights, in the absence of Mukoma, the innocent pubescent babamunini would be invited to join Maiguru and her friends under the ‘Pooma’ or Zambia and enjoy a repeat clip of ‘Snake in the Eagles Shadow’ protected from the ravages of Gato’s wintry cold!

Which reminds me of Max Chiturumani!  May his dear soul rest in peace! You cannot remember Gokomere movies without remembering him. But I still cannot believe the man ordered ‘The Adventures of the Taxi Driver’ and ‘Lady Chatterley’s Lover’ for an audience of our age. I am not complaining. I can only complain about his censorship hand which he would deploy in front of the projector at the juiciest moments! He must have been bored of ordering ‘Dinkaka’ and Jimmy Cliff’s ‘Bongoman’!

But the history of movies at Gokomere is actually tragic. Late in the 70s, having arrived at the end of a film show in the granite amphitheatre, the Comrades demanded that the film be rescreened for their pleasure. Students were similarly required to remain and watch the repeat. Unfortunately, someone had informed the Rhodesian forces of the presence of the enemy at the school. Unexpectedly, the film show was interrupted by a gun battle that ensued and claimed lives including those of some students. Our beloved Sr. Fide who was the boarding mistress at the time would retell the story with great emotion.

Once again, I digress.

Being a babamunini also imposed some obligations. You had of course to deliver letters to Mukoma when required. You also had to try and promote Maiguru’s cause when threatened. It was not infrequent to become peacemaker after fights over ‘nothing’ between the lovers. There was also the constant threat of competition to Maiguru. It had to be dealt with delicately. Mukoma was for his part always trying to put up a show. Many times he would seem not to love Maiguru as much as she loved him. It was a man thing. To show love, like in Okonkwo’s world, was to show weakness.

This attitude often embarrassed Babamunini, for you had to comfort a Maiguru who did not get anything for Valentine’s Day from Mukoma. Not even a card from the Mambo Press bookshop! It was a delicate enterprise.

I must confess, I was a babamunini once! Maybe twice! Maybe a few times!

When Mukoma finally broke up with Maiguru, I was devastated. The relationship between the three of us suddenly became complicated. Being seen with Maiguru was an affront to Mukoma, but I found it unfair to be expected to end it all on account of their break-up. Maiguru for her part would try and use me to cover up for her loneliness. Mukoma made it very clear that;

“WE were done with her. A new maiguru was in the offing. It would help my cause to move with the times!”

 It was a hard.

After a while, Mukoma did not care that I was now double-crossing Maigurus. I was now a friend to ‘big’ girls who could not stand each other. For their part, one always tried hard to avoid me when I was with the other. I played my role quite efficiently.

And then my dumped Maiguru found new love. Things had to change. Our relationship remained strong, but we both knew I had to share her with another ‘babamunini’.

Then one morning, I woke up to rumours that my First Maiguru had left the school. There were competing bizarre stories told. I went to her class to see for myself, and true, my Maiguru had left the school. I was devastated. She had never said goodbye. Mukoma did not know much about the reasons. It was unfair to ask him. The rumours were not good. I half-expected a letter in the post. But nothing came. I had now to dedicate myself to a monogamous life of escorting my other ‘Maiguru’. And to my disappointment, the Headmaster did not offer his trademark ‘There are some of you...’ warning. If he had, I would have gathered what happened to my Maiguru.

2003

Years went by. I lost hope of ever seeing her again. And then one day in 2003, something happened.

It was in the midst of a cash crisis in the banking sector. Being a bank employee then, life was not as hard as it was for the common man. There was a facility to ‘book’ and collect cash in the banking hall. Needing a good amount cash for the weekend, I called a colleague in the banking hall and booked my cash. She called me a few hours later to come and collect.  I promptly left my office to see her. As I entered the banking hall, I noticed that she had a ‘client’ in front of her. But she beckoned me to approach, notwithstanding. I did so reluctantly.

As I got to the desk, I turned to greet her client. The client looked familiar. I greeted her but  the client quickly turned away while returning a cold reply. My database quickly went to work. I knew this face. My colleague smilingly introduced her to me by name. At last, I had found my long lost Maiguru. Excitedly, I replied, ‘I know her!’ I was almost screaming. I was elated. I could not contain my excitement. It had been many years.

But to my horror, Maiguru did not warm up. She gave me a ‘who-are-you’ look. It hit me. It was hard coming down from that height of excitement. I said, ‘I know you from Gokomere!’. But it did not change her demeanour. She just replied,

‘Oh, asi waiva kuprimary?’

I could not believe my ears. There was a Maiguru I had escorted countless times. I had even been under her blanket. She had bought me countless ‘maputi’ packets. She had visited my classroom to see me many times. I had spent many ‘between 5 and 6s’ with her dutifully holding fort for my unsighted Mukoma. And now she had no clue who I was?

My colleague quickly jumped in, and introduced me to her by name. But Maiguru remained a blank Statue of Coldness. I was devastated. My colleague, the muroora, realised the awkward scene unfolding before her. To her credit, she quickly gave me my packet of cash, took my cheque and I said my ‘thank you and goodbye’ and left. I was devastated.

A few hours after the bank had closed I got a knock on my office door. In walked my colleague, the muroora. Before I could say anything she said in a low apologetic tone;

‘I am very sorry Mr. Mafukidze for what happened in the branch. I could see you were really excited to see my tete and hurt and embarrassed by her reaction. I know she really knew who you were. She was just putting up a fake look. She feared that you may tell me stories of her past. I am married to her brother. Unbeknown to tete, I know everything. I am sorry. You just part of a past she wants hidden.’

I narrated how to the muroora how well I knew my Maiguru. She was quite shocked. Maybe it was also not Maiguru’s fault. I truly belonged to a time she wanted to forget. Maybe I should have acted out of character and pretended not to remember her.

I bumped into her a couple of times after that. She would look away and I pretended not to notice. I was relieved. I had accepted the truth. I had lost a dear friend. I hope, for her sake, she is happy and well.

Vincere Caritate!

© Tererai R Mafukidze, Gokomere 1987-1992 (tereraim@gmail.com) 

This is a series of my personal reminisces of life during Mission days. Please respect the anonymity given to protagonists.