Skeletons: Arms of a Stranger

By Renny Mutsa Tsikai

Yemurai a city lawyer was now sleeping on a bed of roses which was now prickly when she found that she was picked from a rubbish pit. This rude awakening made her come face to face with the naked truth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781469153285

Renny Mutsa Tsikai

Renny Mutsa Tsikai (Nee Mumvuma). She was born in Mutare, Zimbabwe. She was educated at Sakubva Primary School, St. Augustine’s Secondary School, Penhalonga, Daramombe Teacher’s College, Chivhu and University of Zimbabwe where she obtained a Diploma in Religious Studies, BA Honours and Master of Philosophy (MPhil) Degrees. She has written the following Shona books: (Zimbabwean Indigenous Language); Imbwa Nyoro (Still waters run deep); Hove Huru (Big Fish); Dhokotera Mafuta (Doctor Mafuta); Dare Retariro (Bell of Hope). She also wrote the following English books: New Lease and Skeletons. She is a teacher by profession.

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Copyright © 2012 by Renny Mutsa Tsikai.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 04/15/2015

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1   Identity Crisis

Chapter 2   Secret Emotions of the Heart

Chapter 3   Wild Hunt

Chapter 4   Bed of Roses

Chapter 5   A Prayer for a Miracle

Chapter 6   Scars of the Heart

Chapter 7   The Naked Fatal Truth

To all my children

CHAPTER 1

Identity Crisis

What started as a fine, sun-shining day was dark and gloomy by late evening.

It was around ten in the morning when this beautiful girl walked into my office with Godo in tow. She must have been about twenty and was slim, tall and light in complexion. On a busy day she would have turned most heads on Main Street. But something about her face told a sad story, a story that her alluring smile could do little about. The sadness clung to her eyes like morning mist.

Something strange was the matter.

Good morning Inspector Godo, I said tentatively. He went straight into the introductions. This is Miss Rusere. She wants to talk to you.

I stood up and greeted her.

Please take a seat.

She did. She was sad. Her face though stunning showed she was in some kind of trouble. I wondered what it could be. She looked too stunning to be in any real trouble. Everything should have been going her way, but wasn’t.

After ushering her in, Godo walked out disinterestedly and made his way to some other chore elsewhere. She opened her classy hand bag and took out two sheets of paper from it. She slid them across to me without a word.

What is this? I asked without touching the papers.

At a glance one of the papers looked like an official birth certificate. Despite the questioning look I gave her she said nothing. I began to wonder if she was a deaf mute or something. Then suddenly and without warning the floodgates of her pent-up emotions burst and she began to bawl as lustily as any healthy infant.

To say I was startled would be an understatement. She took me completely unawares. In deference to her femininity I stood up and closed the door. Then I took the seat nearest to hers. I took her hand in mine and told her to take her time and that it would be all right in the end. She would see. She gratefully accepted the tissue I gave her to dry her eyes.

What seems to be the problem here? Your name please?

Yemurai, she said between sobs.

What is it? I can see two birth certificates.

I was trying to work out what was different about the two birth certificates.

Please look at them closely. What is the difference?

She suddenly came alive. Her mood swings were intriguing.

I looked again. One birth certificate was written Yemurai Chenzira, father and mother unknown, place of birth unknown and residential address unknown. The other one said Yemurai Rusere, with the names of both parents and the residential address recorded. I did not understand.

What is the difference, I asked now looking into her eyes.

Both are mine. The genuine one is the one with the entries that say ‘unknown’.

How come?

My parents are unknown, but I grew up thinking those who looked after me were my parents.

She stood up as though she wanted to leave the room. I stood up too.

How and when did you discover this?

I held the two birth certificates in my hands.

Just recently. My foster mother is ill. The other day I went through her papers so that I could put them in order in case it became necessary to discuss the contents of some of them. We do not think she will recover. Perhaps I should tell you that I did not grow up with a father around the house. Everybody said he was a man with no sense of responsibility. They said he had vanished into thin air. One day he was there, the next he was gone, for good!

Were you not suspicious?

I took her arm and helped her sit down on the chair again.

No. Most children are being raised up by one parent, especially the mothers.

I agreed with her. Her case was not a special one. You are right. Go on.

She went on.

The birth certificate with complete entries is a forged one. She says that she was protecting me from teachers and other children at school. She says they would have made fun of me if I had used a birth certificate like this one.

She was right I think.

Right, not telling me the truth?

The anger and exasperation in her eyes and in her voice were remarkable. She must have been thinking then that I