The Zebra Crossings

By Tsitsi Tsopotsa

In the 1970s, somewhere in the rural area in Eastern Zimbabwe(Rhodesia),a young man and woman fall in love. An unremarkable occurrence one might think - except that Rob Du Toit is of white affluent stock, and Rudo derives from a struggling black family. They are living in a country in transition, but that fact does little to help their cause. Their path to happiness becomes a minefield of hurdles and prejudices that only intensify as time progresses. This is a tender story written with heartfelt feeling, a book that you will want to read from beginning to end.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tsitsi Tsopotsa
• Release date: Dec 2, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301754564

Tsitsi Tsopotsa

Born in Zimbabwe, Tsitsi Tsopotsa has worked as a nurse, midwife, established the first public relations office for the ministry of health Zimbabwe and then went on to market the first mass marketed female condom in Africa. Tsitsi had her first article published in Mahogany, a woman's lifestyle magazine at the age of nineteen. Since then, she has been writing a variety of articles and short stories some of which have been published. The Zebra Crossings is her first self published novel. She is currently working on more short stories and a new novel.

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The Zebra Crossings

Tsitsi Tsopotsa

Published by Tsitsi Tsopotsa at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 © Tsitsi Tsopotsa

First Edition

The author has asserted their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

Table of Contents

PART ONE

ONE YEAR EARLIER

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART ONE

My boy, things are getting tough around here, Maxwell said. At your age you can get called up anytime. Last month the Harris boy turned eighteen— he’s already been signed up. He’s the same age as you, isn’t he? Maxwell was momentarily distracted by a mosquito that had found a landing strip on his knee—the middle-aged skin was proving too leathery for it to pierce.

Max, let me handle it. Listen, what your father is trying to say is that you just have to leave the country. Soon, Babs said, in the direct manner with which she tackled everything, from raising her son to dealing with an errant farmhand.

That’s not necessary, no one needs to know I’m here, Rob said, trying to take back his usual control. He sat back in his chair and crossed his long muscular leg at the ankle. Years of rugby in the sun made it blend in well with the tan socks that he wore.

Listen, my sweetie, it’s going to be hard for us too. We’re thinking of selling up to go down South. We can only stick around for a bit longer, your father can also be called out to do his bit in the sticks. He’s lucky because I think he’ll fail the medical, he’s not as tough as he likes to make out. But you, my boy, are prime stock, they’ll take you just like that. Babs clicked her fingers.

"Ack, man, and the war — it’s just getting worse, Maxwell interrupted. Irritated by the mosquito and the situation, he swatted it with more violence than necessary. I wish these kaffirs would just see that they can’t win the war, bloody munts. They just haven’t got what it takes, man. And then if they did win what would they do eh? Whoever heard of blacks ruling themselves? They won’t win the war anyway, there’s no way they can defeat us," Maxwell boasted, hitching up his khaki shorts as he towered over his family.

Rob winced at his father’s words. The playmates and classmates of his early years had dispelled any myths about blacks being inferior. But he knew better than to articulate his views at a time like this.

Mom, Dad, I know what you mean, but … I don’t want to leave. This is my life, why should I have to leave just because someone else has started a war that I didn’t want? I want to stay put and I won’t go for call-up, he ended, his voice cracking. He wanted to be as close to Rudo as possible and he knew that if he left the country he would lose her. But he could hardly walk away from the logic of his mother’s words. He also knew that his mother often acted without notice: she could have him packed and bundled into the car before he could even blink. He sighed resignedly, knowing he was defeated before he even tried to get out of it.

Rudo was next door, trying carefully to fold the tablecloth. Her heart sank and the tears stung as she tried to blink them back; they escaped, blinding her. Reaching out to place a glass on the edge of the table, she misjudged the distance. It smashed to the floor, a million pieces rang through the silence that now prevailed over the veranda. Rob knew immediately that she had overheard the conversation.

What has that girl done now, huh? Is it too much to ask to get the dishes washed without breaking them all? Babs started to rise from her chair, but Rob quickly jumped to his feet.

It’s okay, Mom, I’ll see to it, I need to get a glass of water anyway. In his anxiety to get to the kitchen before his mother, he missed the quick glance between his parents and then the glance at his full glass on the table.

In the kitchen, Rudo was on all fours, trying to locate every last shard of glass but finding it difficult to see.

You’ve cut yourself. He gently took both of her hands in his and helped her to her feet. Let me rinse them under the tap, then we can see how bad the cut is. He unscrewed the Dettol cap and upended the bottle over her fingers.

It’s just a small cut, it will heal in a few days. He raised her hand to his lips. Rudo felt faint, it was as if he was caressing her entire body. Rob took advantage of the moment, taking her into his arms and pulling her close to him. He felt his body responding to her closeness and the awkwardness of their first intimate moment was melted away by their heated bodies. He inhaled deeply, his nostrils filled with an overwhelming heady mix of her musky smell, fused with the undertones of smoke from the wood fire that she used at home. It was sweet and sensual. He closed his eyes and welcomed the touch of her hands as they lingered briefly behind him, fluttering hesitantly on his back, and then with confidence touching more firmly, her face buried in his chest.

At that moment Maxwell Du Toit walked in. He hesitated, then quietly left the room, closing the door with a smile on his face. Neither heard him.

I’ll just finish tidying up, Rudo said quickly.

What’s wrong, Rudo? I’m not going to leave. He sensed a sudden change. "I’ll just get the keys for the baakie, we can talk about it whilst I drive you home."

Rudo felt cheap, like an easy lay. He was leaving soon and yet she was giving him the green light. She realised that she had lost her usual control. It was better to get away whilst she still could.

She saw her opportunity to exit when Rob left the room, and went to find Babs, who was sitting alone on the veranda, idling over her cocktail.

Goodnight, Madam, I’ve finished now, Rudo said to her from the doorway.

Goodnight, Rudo, Babs said without looking up. Then she seemed to remember something. "What did you break? A glass? It’s coming out of your wages."

Sorry, Madam, yes, Madam, Rudo said, backing out through the door. Goodnight, Madam.

It was dangerously dark, but the crickets enticed her out with their alto voices, challenging her to get home quickly; twice she stumbled and nearly fell. On the other side of the main road, something light and feathery brushed against her face. She jumped, startled, and then relaxed as she remembered that the grass along the route had been left to grow to head height. To reassure herself, she pictured their brown tips and brushed her fingers against their softness. As she walked on, the stars twinkled like diamante in a dark velvet cloak. Rudo inhaled the cool, clear air, rubbing her bare arms to reduce the rising goose bumps. Anxious to step into the warmth of the kitchen, she increased her pace, focusing on the road ahead, her eyes adjusting to the dark, familiar buildings which seemingly rose out of the dark depths: first the short gatepost, then the outhouse that served as a toilet, the candlelight in the kitchen window that beckoned her home. She was nearly there, and she relaxed a little.

As she stepped to her right towards the yard, she felt a heavy hand on her arm, the force behind it jostling her into the bushes before she could react. A hand clapped over her mouth to stop her screams being heard. She struggled and turned herself round so that she could be face to face with her attacker. She was able to make out his features. It was one of the boys from the neighbouring village, he was about Rudo’s age, they had never spoken. He slapped her round the face to demonstrate his superior strength, and quell any heroic effort on her part to overcome him. He grabbed a grubby cloth from his pocket, stuffing the corner into Rudo’s mouth to muffle her screams. The pungent odour of stale perspiration and other unidentifiable odours assaulted her nostrils. Rudo wretched, each time forcing her upper body into a spasm. This excited him and gave him further advantage. His movements became hurried as he fumbled in the dark, pulling at her clothes, hoping they would give way and save him the trouble of wrestling with buttons or whatever fastenings she had on her skirt. The more she struggled and kicked the more aggressive he became. The moon seemed to be awakened from its lazy slumber and peered curiously at the wrestling pair.

Why are you resisting me? You whore! he hissed. You’ve given yourself to that white man’s son so you must be a bitch, at least I’ll give you two dollars for your services. Stop struggling and open your legs.

The words confirmed his intentions. Her mouth dried out with fear and paralysed her throat; her scream ran out of saliva, emitting a ghastly gurgle as it died in her throat. The dull thuds made by their scuffle in the dirt were deafened by the distinct sound of her skirt ripping. Rudo became more frantic, the boy manoeuvred his knee between her thighs, pinning her skirt so that he could yank it downwards. She watched him, forcing herself to remain calm enough to assess her situation and her chances of escape. He was focused on removing her skirt; if he achieved this there would be no time to act. He had released himself from his shorts and she felt his bulging penis throbbing menacingly through the opening of his trousers as it lay against her thigh. Rudo felt the perspiration popping up around her nose and upper lip. The intensification of her fear precipitated the surge in adrenalin that she needed.

She reached around her and felt a large cylindrical piece of scrap metal. Her thoughts seemed to jar and she paused as she was, feeling his hardness forcing itself between her knees, spreading her exposed thighs. The boy was engrossed in repositioning himself to penetrate her. She realised that if he lowered himself, she would not be able to get away. She found her moment when he raised himself briefly; she bent her knees, raising her feet in the air. The boy relaxed his grip, thinking that she was accommodating him. She aimed her feet at his chest and kicked him as hard as she could. Caught unawares, he fell backwards, temporarily winded and landing away from her. She leapt up and crouched, ready to spring. She was less than a metre away from her assailant; the metal bar in both hands, she swung at him, releasing the bar in an uncalculated fling towards him, then turned, not daring to wait to witness the impact.

He yelped. His foot caught on her skirt, temporarily immobilising them both. Rudo was the first to break free. The worn seams in the cotton garment gave out and the remnants of her skirt temporarily slowed her down, almost tripping her.

When I catch you, I’ll beat you senseless, I’ll thrash you like a bush snake. You think you’re too good for me, eh? The tail end of the bar had caught his thigh, the impact disabling him momentarily. He ran after Rudo, gaining advantage when she stopped to recover what was left of her skirt. Too late, she realised her mistake. Before she could take flight again he caught her throat in a tight lock with one hand, working with the other to swiftly remove her pants. She continued to struggle, still unable to scream as his hand tightened, cutting off her breath. Attracting her parents’ attention would only cause her more problems. The boy’s harsh words ringing in her ears, she acquiesced as her strength waned.

As she lay in the dust, rasping for air, she wished that he would act quickly, anything to be able to breathe again. Her eyes closed in anticipation of pain then fluttered open again as he loosened his grip. The boy yelled loudly and Rudo, recognising the pain in his voice, snatched her second chance to escape.

Run, run, the silent voice in her head commanded.

Not knowing where to run to, she ran back and forth in the yard like a confused chicken. First, forward towards the kitchen, but then she realised that she couldn’t let her parents see her in that state. Then she ran towards the building that housed their bedrooms and lounge —she suddenly remembered that it was always kept locked at night. Next she started towards a third path that led to Tete Joyce’s.

If anyone sees me in my pants and bra, it could be worse. Where do I go? The living room, thank God, the door is open. Oh no, there must be someone in here …

It was too late to retreat as she had stumbled into the room and fell just inside the doorway.

"Who’s there?" an angry voice said.

Silence.

"I said, who is it?"

Rudo lay traumatised at the entrance, then tried to crawl towards her bedroom, but her knees felt like stone.

There was a scrambling noise as her father searched for something in the dark, then a flame flared up, excitedly inspecting every corner of the room. She blinked momentarily against the sudden light; just as she was making out the other occupant in the room, the flame died. Another match bravely shot up and lent its flame to a candle.

From her position sprawled out on the floor, she looked up into the pain and shame on her father’s face. He turned away and blocked the view of his visitor, who she recognised as Comrade Black Heart, one of the freedom-fighters that sometimes visited.

Petros’ voice lost its authority, as it quivered.

Get in your room and sort yourself out!

Rudo scrambled into her bedroom, throwing herself onto the mattress on the floor. She didn’t know how long she had lain there sobbing when the door opened.

Calm yourself, my child. Her mother’s voice soothed her as she adjusted the wrap over her bare legs.

What am I going to do now? Everyone in the village will think that I was at fault. Maybe it was my fault …

Did he touch you? Plaxedes asked, trying to examine the condition of her pants.

No, Mother, he did not. Their conversation was disturbed by a commotion outside in the courtyard. As Rudo listened, she recognised the voice of Comrade Cobra.

Tell me what you were doing? Comrade Cobra demanded. The fine twig he brandished left a swollen, bloody trail across the boy’s legs and buttocks. Rudo knew that a small crowd of inquisitive neighbours had gathered outside, the many voices asking and answering questions. One rose above the others.

He’s only a child. Please, he’s learnt his lesson.

Rudo was surprised that this man was avenging her. She wondered if he would continue if the boy was given a chance to speak. She stood unobserved by the window, following the events.

Tell her what you were trying to do, Comrade Cobra bellowed, shining a torch mercilessly in the boy’s eyes.

The boy was too frightened to talk. The fear he had recently inflicted had come back to haunt him. He was paralysed, his eyes pleading for mercy from the crowd.

As if on cue they all noticed that his now limp penis was hanging out of his trousers. The murmuring from the crowd grew louder, and there were gasps from the women. Petros’ anger found its voice.

If you’ve touched her, you die tonight. You will marry her. I’ll beat you senseless. His veins engorged, and throbbed menacingly. He grabbed the grass broom propped up on the side of the kitchen and charged for the boy, ranting like a madman. His voice seemed to fuel his arm as it rose and fell hysterically, the broom interpreting his anger to the boy’s buttocks. Finally, he slid drunkenly down the kitchen wall in silence and composed himself on his haunches, the perspiration escaping his hot head in rivulets as he blinked the image before him back into view. Comrade Cobra and Comrade Black Heart held the silent boy.

What now? asked Comrade Cobra.

We could take him with us? Comrade Black Heart volunteered.

Another mouth to feed, we can’t give him a gun, he can’t be trusted. Comrade Cobra, replied; as he thought of the prospects of a smaller share of sadza, he was brought back to the decision at hand by his colleague:

Well, we need someone to carry the provisions.

I suppose that way we could keep an eye on him, he relented.

But, first we need to discipline him. With this prospect, Comrade Cobra perked up immediately.

Yah, discipline, he said gleefully.

No, please, I’ve learnt my lesson, I’ll never do it again, please, please forgive me … please I’ll pay, wailed the boy.

With what? Comrade Black Heart laughed cruelly, tightening his grip on the boy’s collar. A part of him delighted in the prospect of corporal punishment.

Where are his parents? The crowd looked at each other, then fell silent.

We’ll see each other again, we just have this matter to deal with. Comrade Black Heart indicated their departure. The villagers dispersed, making their way back to their homes, chattering amongst themselves in the realisation that the spectacle was over.

"Was that not the child from across the field near the mazhanje tree?"

His name is Niason Chibanda, a small boy chirped in helpfully.

I’ll never forget that name, Rudo thought to herself. Her mother put her arm around her, reinforcing the security Rudo felt as the boy was taken away.

Who will tell his family? They all turned expectantly towards the village elder.

Resignedly, he said, I’ll go and see them tonight, though they might have heard about it by the time I get there.

I’ll go with you. They have to be told that their son damaged my daughter.

***

ONE YEAR EARLIER

The sun was promising yet another glorious day unspoilt by rain or clouds. It always looked so enchanting at that time of the morning, the reddish glow of the sun burning through the mist of the five o’clock daybreak, outlining the shadows of the early workers in the remote areas of Nyanga. When the mist cleared, it revealed the most enigmatic, captivating place that God had kept secret.

In the distance minute swirls of dust, rising in a circular fashion as if the ground was blowing dust rings, were barely visible. It was replicated around all the homesteads every morning at precisely the same hour as the oldest daughter of the household swept the yard with a traditional grass broom. The dust around was kept swept neatly, the resultant pretty patterns on the ground the by-product of their labour.

It was to this poor yet happy environment that Rudo had been born in the early part of 1956. However, the tragedy of the civil war being waged on the country’s border with Mozambique soon spoilt this idyllic life.

Rudo rose at five a.m. as usual and drew water from the river. She calculated that she had two more visits to the river to provide enough water for her and her family to bathe.

Whilst the water boils, I’ll sweep the yard, Rudo thought to herself, methodically realigning the dried blades of grass on her worn broom, and sprinkling water on the ground to contain the dust.

"That looks neat, daughter." Plaxedes admired the neat fanlike patterns on the ground weaving their way across the yard up as far the makeshift gate.

Good morning, Mother, how have you slept?

Fine, daughter, and you?

Rudo smiled, indicating that she had slept well.

Already all forms of life were scurrying around, gathering and hunting to feed their offspring for the day ahead before the sun was unbearably hot. A mother hen and her chicks spilled out onto the newly swept yard, disturbing the fans and imprinting their own signatures as they cheerfully made their way in search of scraps from the night before. They stopped briefly by the bowl of water laid out for them. A colony of ants marched towards a small discarded lump of sadza covered in gravy. The lookout had secured it and urged the colony forward to carry it back to the hill to feed the masses. A cockroach darted for cover into the nearby maize field and disappeared under a raspy dried leaf. The birds were chorusing loudly in an attempt to drown out the overbearing cock as it performed its early morning alarm duty and crowed three times.

There’s still soap behind your ears, Rudo berated Rufaro, her fourteen-year old-brother, blocking his entrance to the kitchen. She stepped aside briefly for his twin Rugare, after he passed her thorough inspection.

Please can I have peanut butter in my porridge today? Rudo dipped the spoon in the peanut butter and immersed it in Rugare’s bowl of porridge before handing it over.

Good morning, Father, how have you slept?

Morning. Have you all got your books ready for school?

Yes, Father.

Boys, I don’t want you to be late again today. It shouldn’t take you more than one hour to walk back; it’s no longer safe to be home late after school. He paused as if he needed to recall the lecture he gave at least once a week.

When I was your age, I used to walk twice the distance in half the time. That was until my father could no longer afford to send me to school. You’re all very lucky to be going to school.

"We are leaving now, Father," Rudo managed to squeeze in before he really got started on his usual monologue. The sweet taste of the tea lingering in the moist interior of their mouths would soon be replaced by a dryness worsened by the hot sandy roads along their respective routes to school and work.

The family had shrunk and grown rapidly. A frail boy had been born a few years before Rudo and had died from dehydration following a bout of diarrhoea and vomiting. The local Nganga had claimed to her parents that it was a result of exposure to other babies that were protected with muti and their baby son had absorbed all the evil spirits that had been deflected. There were another two pregnancies that ended in miscarriage after the twins were born and then no more.

Rudo performed well at school but Rhodesia in 1973 didn’t offer a lot of career prospects to Black African children, especially girls. She had already decided she wanted to be a nurse; her decision had been influenced by a visit to Rusape General Hospital.

***

"Mbuya, I need to check your temperature," the nurse had said, flicking her hand vigorously to bring the mercury reading down.

Wow, Rudo had thought, she looks fabulous. She had eyed the white cap starched to the consistency of cardboard. The equally stiff uniform, made a swish-swish sound against the tray of thermometers that she was carrying. The large black belt that defined her hourglass figure was secured by an enormous silver buckle that shone brilliantly each time it caught the sunlight that streamed through the window. Her black shoes had click, clicked competently as she had traversed the length of the ward inserting thermometers under tongues and checking pulses. Rudo had been mesmerised by this magnificent beauty and vision of efficiency. This lady in white provided her inspiration and later, at her nurse training interview, she would say that she had been motivated by this nurse because she too wanted to wear a white uniform with a thick black belt, much to the amusement of the interviewer.

Walking down the dusty road to school, Rudo relived that memory, her short black hair glistening under the scrutiny of the early morning sun. She despaired at her brothers, who kept wandering into the bushes and getting their khakis caught in the weeds. They were covered in black jacks all around the hem line.

Boys, keep out of there, you’ll be dirty for the school assembly.

We’re coming, Sissy.

Sissy ...

Yes? Rudo responded absently as she lined them up in front of the gate to supervise the de-black jacking process.

"What’s the point of having shoes if you don’t wear them?"

What do you mean?she asked rather crossly.

You always carry your shoes up to the gate. It means you hardly wear them out.

Father should buy me and Rugare a new pair of shoes every term as we really make use of them.

Well at least they’re clean. We can’t be late for assembly, she said, leading the way and choosing to ignore their ridiculous jokes and laughter. Her first lesson was maths, and it presented its own challenges.

"Rudo, it’s break time — are you coming with us for a walk around the playground? Then you can share my mango with me under the big tree with the shade." Judy held out the large mango, hoping to entice Rudo.

I’ll follow you later. I just need to get some of this work done, Rudo replied reluctantly.

But you’ll have plenty of time later, during the afternoon study period, Judy tried again.

I’ll see you later, I need to study, Rudo replied, turning determinedly towards their classroom.

It’s June now, and you’ll have another six months to study, Judy pointed out, emphasising the ‘six months.’

I really have to pass well. Look, I could be using this chatting time to get some more work done. I’ll come and join you when I finish solving the problems that Mrs Sibanda has given me, Rudo responded before closing the classroom door.

I have to pass really well so that I can make my application for nursing when the results come out in February, she encouraged herself.

On the walk home she chatted with Judy.

"I’ll see you tomorrow, don’t forget to bring matennis, for netball tomorrow afternoon," she called after her friend as she disappeared down her fork in the road. Rudo heard a rustle in the bushes and she caught a slight movement in the corner of her eye.

That looks like Rob. Let me see if I can check without letting him see