A sizeable gathering had enveloped their house; women in the house, wailing and irrigating the green carpet with their tears. Clad in Chitenges, with matching headgear, the senior aunts of the family sang a lament that rent every heart that heard it. “Muka, Mavis, tinamate... Muka Mavis, tinamate....” Wake up, Mavis, let us pray... Wake up, Mavis, let us pray.... Although Mavis was in the bedroom, and the ladies sang loudly enough to wake her up, she was beyond prayer now; life had oozed out of her body over a pain-staking 5 months. She was gone. Her husband had gone before her... probably to sort out the gardening and check the plumbing of their house in the promised city of gold. Today was not Mavis’ death day... no, that had happened three days ago. Today was her burial. However, in Africa, one is not truly dead until they are buried.
The wailing women were sat in the living room and along the hallway of the house in Mabelreign. They took turns to start hymns and confess their loss. Every new arrival to the funeral had to walk through the living room to pass their condolences. “Nematambudziko....” With great grief.... That was how it was said, the condolence. While the new arrivals were greeting everyone else, the women in the room would be lamenting quietly, but as soon as they reached tete Tanya all the floodgates were open. You see, Tanya was Mavis’ twin sister, the remnant of a generation of the Venhamo’s that had suffered great loss recently. In a year they had buried four and the fifth was on her way to earth’s loving womb. This was the cue for the women to resume their mourning.
Once past the circuit of crying women, the males were allowed to retreat to the bonfire outside, where the other men were. The atmosphere here was alien to that inside the house. The men were drinking opaque beer and talking about everything; women, life, politics, work, children... everything but Mavis, her death and the children. Sekuru Tobi was the loudest; even daring to share jokes on such a melancholic day. The men all drank from the same pot, frequently ordering the youngest among them to go into the house to top up the pot when the beer was finished. Poor Mukoma Tapera would have to navigate the treacherous circuit of crying women with his head hung low meekly. He probably drank the least, yet did all the top-ups. He is today’s bus-boy; but grateful for it. Tete Tanya adopted him after his parents tragically died in a car crash. She paid his school fees, levy, clothed and fed him. He is due to complete his O’levels at night school this year. The 24 year old young man wishes to be a mechanic.
There was another fire at the other side of the house. This one was not the bonfire of festivities like the men’s one. It was another wailing headquarters. There was a large tripod pot on the fire, with off-white maize meal bubbling away as the women prepared sadza. Occasionally, Mukoma Tapera would be asked to be the men’s emissary to the sadza. Tapera asked the women who were crying and cooking when they would finish. Tete Chemai said that they were nearly done; just waiting for the salt for soda to put in the pumpkin leaf pot and then they would thicken the sadza and serve. Tapera then asked about the children, to which Chemai said they would be served after everyone else as there were not enough plates, and the car was scheduled to arrive in two hours. The children were all playing in the other bedroom; forbidden to enter the main bedroom where Mavis’s body lay.
Just then, the gate was opened again and a green Ford Laser rolled into the yard. This was not the car everyone was waiting for. It was Takura’s car. Takura was Mavis’ cousin. He was a mechanic at a local garage. He lived in Chitungwiza in a two-bedroomed house with his wife, four kids and at least seven other relatives. Takura tried hard to look after his family, but tragedy struck time and again in the extended family and his boughs could not support all their weight. At night, Takura and his wife would sleep on the bed; with his youngest two daughters would sleep on the floor of their bedroom. All four male cousins shared the tiny boys bedroom with Tendai, Takura’s firstborn. The girls had two rooms, the modest living room and the kitchen, which, after cleaning, they would put the chairs on top of the table to create more room. Supporting such a large family was a burden that Takura responsibly tackled. He offered no luxury; not even to himself, but guaranteed two meal a day. Bread for tea and dinner.
Takura took off his hat and entered the house, with hat under arm and hands together. This stance enabled him to avoid greeting everyone in the room. A nod would suffice. Except for tete Tanya, who required a handshake, hug and tears. Takura then proceeded to the main bedroom where his beloved cousin lay. He knew immediately that the family had lost a mother and there would be great shifts. Mavis used to give him some money to help the household. She also housed 9 others in the house she rented; this house. This meant 11 more family to try and house, feed and school. This was beyond the family’s budget, so some would have to be let go; perhaps to the local orphanages or to the rural areas where the granduncles and grandaunts may look after them.
There is an old Shona saying that, loosely translated, goes, “An orphan will feast and have plenty on the day their mother dies.” The saying is more subtle than the obvious irony that can be milked from looking at it at first glance; for we all know that many orphans live deprived lives. During the funeral, many family members promised to assist Taona and Tafara, Mavis’ children. None of the adults committed to caring for the children, and none could afford to take them on. Mavis had not written a will, trusting her relatives’ sense of duty to care for her children when she would pass away. The uncles and aunts who lived with Taona and Tafara would have to move out of the house as they were all in school still, painfully funded by Mavis’ every penny. Some would find jobs, others go to the rural areas, and some of the aunties would have to find husbands as a matter of urgency. Such is life when the lifeline loses its life.
Mavis did not have much in her life; she had invested a lot of her money into helping the family. Countless uncles, aunts, etcetera, had passed through her house and moved on. None of them came back to help, although they knew perfectly how she had selflessly sacrificed her life for their betterment. At least 21 people had got through to their O’Levels at her expense. Every Takura owed his modest survival to her; for she took him from Bocha, where he was herding another uncle’s cattle, and paid for his primary and secondary education. It broke Takura’s heart that he would not be able to assist Taona and Tafara in the way their mother assisted him. By giving him education, she had given him a genuine shot at a life that he would have a decent job in; options, possibilities. It was not a ticket to great wealth, but a ticket out of great poverty.
The tragedy was that Taona and Tafara were both brilliant scholars; top of the class since records began. Would anyone care, and would anyone give them the chance to continue with education; perhaps a scholarship... anything.... They are probably the most promising of the family, but the loss of their parents has threatened their own potential in life and stunned their growth and hope to establish themselves.
(Although the characters in this story are imaginary, the situation they face is a microcosm of the lives that many Africans experience. It is our desire to guarantee the education of every African child, and continual support until they can fend for themselves. A lot of charities operate in Africa, but they have been criticising for not doing enough. We feel that they are doing their best but need people who can help them raise money for their causes. We will send a child in Africa to school for a term with every shirt purchased. Look Good While Doing Good.)
Kingstone Matsekeza is an Actuarial Science Graduate from the University of Kent . He heads the UK group of Authentic Fashion Renaissance.
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