Entry 5 : The day I left Khwawa for Ekwendeni S School and The frozen freezes: September 93’. The news that PSLC exams were out filled the entire village like a bush fire. The 3 months of waiting and wishing were finally over, the three months that I spent gathering firewood (kudumulira nkhuni). I remember spending half of my day each day in the bush falling trees from which we could collect firewood. How wasting the environment were our actions, falling the whole innocent tree so just that we cut off branches which we could use as firewood. It was the most destructive and yet thrilling adventure for me. I could set the tree on fire, the fire could be set between the trunk and the roots and wait for it over 2 nights, on the third day it would fall down and my brother would come to cut off the branches. Every time a tree fell, I could put one leg on it, claiming my victory like David against Goliath, then I could say, Goliath is down. The satisfaction and fulfilling feeling of conquering the trees marked my days. It happened that I and my friend Rita were both selected to go to Ekwendeni Girls. A week before leaving our village, we had several meetings at Rita’s place rehearsing a few things to equip ourselves for the days ahead. We went through how to cope with teasing, how to walk in secondary school corridors, what clothes to pack, I did not have many clothes, so on this one, I did not do much of choosing. My father asked me to write down everything I needed. I could not believe my ears, how possible was it that my father would honour the shopping list? I silently wondered. True to his words my father bought the toiletries, but slightly different from the list I had supplied. Instead of Top society lotion, he bought me a small ambiskin beauty, instead of Palmolive soap, he bought me lifebuoy, there was no glycerin and yet I had listed it, he insisted that the rest were luxuries. I equally did not know what girls in secondary school packed. The night before leaving Khwawa for Ekwendeni, my mind was filled with mixed expectations. Fear of the unknown dominated me. I did not know what to expect. This was the first time I was leaving my village and district for another district, my very first time I would be away from my family. My greatest anxiety was on going away to Ekwendeni, a town I never knew and a town I assumed was more developed than my village. I remember my mother going through with me over and over on how Ekwendeni was different from Rumphi boma. She repeatedly emphasized that Rumphi boma is far from the branching off junction of Bwengu, “ you will have to go for about 15 minutes off Bwengu to Rumphi, passing through Njakwa Bridge which claimed lives of a lot of people through bus accident in 1964 ”, she said, “while at Ekwendeni, the bus stop is close to the road, the bus however will have to leave the road and park unto dusty cleared space close to the market space, you will see chipiku and a shop written Mtumbuka shop”. She tried as much as possible to explain the difference between Rumphi and Ekwendeni . I attentively listened, absorbing in every detail. She added that secondary schools had flashed toilets, she explained to me how to use a toilet having grown up using a pit latrine. The whole orientation heightened my fears, it did me more bad than good, as my last days with mama were all about what to expect. Everything seemed too advanced. Around 10 am the next morning we were at the bus stage with our bags and our families seeing us off. Mama and Rita’s Mama were standing close to us, assuring us that we would be ok. My mother continued to rehearse for me how I would recognize Ekwendeni. She told me if we were lost, we had to find the nearest police station. At around 10:20 am the stagecoach bus rolled onto the sidewalk of our rather unformed bus stage. Our mothers paid for our bus fare. My money for school fees and pocket money was tightly secured around my waist, not accessible at all, unless I went into a ladies room and removed the kerchief. My brother put our bags on top of the bus. We went inside and sat midway between front and back of the bus. Our families kept waving at us. Then near my window I heard the banging, it was my mother. She shouted for the last time very loudly that everyone in the bus heard “ Kuluwa yayi, Pa Ekwendeni bus yikuleka msewu, papu pa Rumphi bus yikupatuka pa bwengu, ndipo mukujumpha buliji.” I silently slide under the bus chair, everyone had their eyes fixed on me and my friend. She continued, “ Chimbuzi cha maji kuflusher, kukaluwa yayi” (you always flush a toilet, don’t forget that) It was all right to have the explanation at home, but in a bus full of strangers was too much for me to take. I pretended as if she was not talking to me. Everyone in the bus laughed. As the bus rolled off so did the figures of those so dear and close to us disappear off in the far distance. They waved at us and I waved back, putting my head through the window, I saw my mother shedding tears, and mine own threatened my eyes but I had to hold the tears back, in case someone saw me. I was able to tell the places as far as Chiweta, but as the bus started on the uphill Boliwoli meandering escarpments, all I could remember was my brother telling us of the mythology surrounding Boliwoli, of the mysterious half humans whose souls were wondering in the thick bushes, of the cattle that wondered aimlessly without definite destination which was not a myth(true story), stories of the lives lost to accidents in the dangerous terrains, some of the people I knew. Everyone in the bus was silent, as if they had read my fear, the kind of silence that scares you. My mind was filled with possibilities of what “if”. I imagined the bus rolling off the deep gullies, all of the passengers perishing to their death while I grew wings and fly off into the beautiful skies of Chiweta,. Still engrossed in my weird imagination, and almost leaving behind the amazingly formed hills, I heard someone addressing me and my friend “ mwawana imwe, muli pa Mchenga coal mines sono”(hey you girls, now you are at Mchenga) the voice of a good Samaritan who cared enough to show us the place brought me back to my reality. As we moved on, passing through Phwezi and villages between Phwezi and Bwengu, I absorbed in the beauty of several small anthills through Chinyolo and Thumbi areas and finally we were at Bwengu. Everyone turned towards us as if saying this is Bwengu. True to my mother’s directions, the bus left the M1 and branched into another road towards Rumphi. I patiently waited for the bus to cross over Njakwa, it was indeed a dangerous place with huge rocks which to me looked like a spiritual place, I imagined the big Chipili snake dwelling in the rocks. Finally we were in Rumphi. After another 1 or so hour, the bus finally was at Ekwendeni, we could not miss it at all, and mama’s description perfectly fit the picture. Everyone who had been there when we started off at Khwawa looked at us and smiled their approvals, encouraging us to get out, that we had finally reached our destination.. Then one vendor approached us, selling his frozen freezes. Both me and my friend had never seen a frozen freezes before. We asked the young man what was it that he was selling. He politely explained that it was freezes in a frozen state. I had never seen anything in a frozen state, however I had learnt is standard 6 the states of matter, liquid, solid and gas. It finally dawned on me that I was dealing with liquid in frozen state, but I had no idea what actually made the freezes to freeze. We looked at each other, not sure where to start from. How exactly was frozen freezes eaten? Were we supposed to use our teeth like eating raw cassava? Rita tried sucking with her lips, and she told me nothing was coming out, then I decided to use my teeth, to cut off a chunk and chew. I had no idea my move would cost me. The moment I did that, I felt the kind of coldness I had never felt before which left my mouth gaping wide open, the chunk of freezes falling out and my tongue got numb, I felt like my teeth were coming out, sending my friend into an uncontrollable laughter. With my mouth still open, I took my chitenje and tried to warm my teeth. We decided to put the freezes on top of our bags to let them change back to liquid state and in a more user friendly version. My next worry was shifted on how to use a flush toilet, I wondered what blunder I would make as regards to using the toilet. My mother made it sound like one needed to have special orientation to use a toilet. The rest is history………………..May the soul of my best friend Rita Nyasulu keep resting in peace. I miss you girl!!!
Posted on: Tue, 01 Jul 2014 13:02:08 +0000
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