A slightly creased but clean pair of shorts, a clean shirt, well-polished black Bata shoes ( in my days those were designer shoes mammeen) and a pair of knee high socks were this boy’s trade mark. He was always neat, spick and span. He was the kind of boy who showered and did laundry daily as opposed to his counterparts who partook of the ritual on a weekly or worse still a monthly basis. Being in a boarding school is tricky my friend. He had this poise that spoke so much about him even though he was just fourteen years old. He was an A student and his interactions and discussions with other high ranking pupils and teachers reinforced that fact. He was the kind of pupil who read supplementary science and other encyclopedias while the rest of us especially me did not understand what the hell webbed feet were so we avoided the book all the same. A prestigious national school was his ultimate destination and nothing was going to neither dampen his spirits nor put him down. His entire day was spent deep in books unlike other boys his age who were out in the field playing “lifundo” yaani a ball made out of plastic bags or paper bags for those of us yet to catch the western cold. He spoke with authority and his word was close to final. He was my definition of perfect. He kept crossing my mind at times when I should have been deeply engrossed in my studies or enjoying my sleep in the middle of a science class. In layman’s language, he was my crush.
Puberty had just set in and a lot mysterious things were happening to our small bodies. It was interesting to see how skirts started shrinking on the sides and baby avocado like things grow at the front of the girl’s blouses. Girls who wore bras or boob-tops would get glances from the male fraternity and were envied by other girl’s big time. Boys on the other had developed rough casts in the name of faces and to hear a slightly deep and groggy voice was a plus for them. God works in mysterious ways I tell you. My small ‘man’ had already undergone most of this metamorphosis and I would sneak glances at him just to get my little heart the spark it so badly desired. He sat two desks behind me and I watched as he flirted with other girls oblivious of my presence in the big room full of funny looking wooden desks. I longed for a day he would brush himself on me as he conversed with the girl who sat next to me, he would have to apologize and that would be a conversation starter as absurd as it may seem. It was evident that he was after her so it meant that I had to try harder to grab and retain his attention. That fact doused my heart in ice cold water even more.
Years passed and we were in high school about to start our final exams. He had been accepted to a national school and I had been relegated to a high ranking provincial school which meant that our acquaintance had been cut short nonetheless. As true custodians to our traditions, sending the good old success cards to wish our friends and loved ones best wishes in their exams was a must. I had racked my brain over whom to send a card to since sending or receiving a card from the male spectrum of society was a plus. Viola! He re-emerged from the corners of my mind. But there was a problem. I was not sure whether he remembered who I was or if he would be kind enough to give me a call after bravely jotting down my phone number on the card (there was no better way, at least at that time). I was determined to get to him no matter the cost and effort it required. It took an oversized investment of courage and Isaac Newton kind of thinking to put the ink on paper and mail the card.
Sitting far away from civilization in my village home, I had totally forgotten about him. Then that call came through, he introduced himself and laughed with sarcasm over my stupidity and impending lack of digital migration techniques. For a minute I was ashamed, embarrassed and did not know what to say. I was dumbfounded and tongue tied to say the least. I didn’t know whether to be annoyed at his remarks or just play along. Anyway, whatever I did worked in my favor. We hooked up on several occasions. We became great friends. He was the best I had. For a moment, I was in my little heaven on earth. I was on a rollercoaster powered by a whirl wind of emotional overdrive. The kind where you forget your mind and throw your brains in the dumpster
On that fateful day, I made a trip to the big bad city to work on some summer camp things. I had not seen him in a while so it was only fair that we hook up and enjoy the spur of the moment while it lasted. It was a Friday anyway so we had to let loose. We went to a diner had a meal and enjoyed some music along with some drinks with me staying true to my Fanta orange lane. I can’t be tripping you know. Minutes morphed into hours and It was getting rather late for me to walk alone to the east side of town. Being not so conversant to the town, I let him take the lead. He suggested his place; I followed him like a lamb even though my heart was not at peace. I had never been so close to a man my entire life. It was strange that the entire universe was blocked and only the two of us existed.
We got to the room, took a shower and changed into night clothes. There was only one bed so it meant that we had to share. Sharing is caring, right? All this while, a thousand thoughts are going on in my head. Will morning come to pass? What will he do to me? Will he harm me? Lucky for me, he was tired from pitch practice earlier on and had dozed off as soon as his head hit the bed. My heart stopped its rapid pounding and found peace. At least I could catch some sleep. I dint know what to do with him had he been awake. As the night grew old, he moved closer and closer. I was scared to even breathe.
Then I heard him speak;
“Wake up I want to leave…”
“But why” I said, afraid of being left in an unknown location
“I can’t stand it here. The pressure is way too much”
I was not ready to let him go but he meant it. I had to give in.
Things moved on smoothly until he became silent and quite. We rarely talked. Conversations became interrogations and the spark was lost. Not knowing what to do, I probed him on and on but he was still unresponsive. I had done my best to make things work. God and man were my witnesses but the “die” had been cast and he was not looking back.
thatgirlsitawa 