| He couldn’t wait to tell Fawzia the good news… And so, back in Harare on Monday morning he had rushed blindly through the streets to the flat in Herbert Chitepo Avenue.
Now they sat snuggled up on the big green sofa and Rashid had told her everything – excepting the part about the gift from his father. ‘You have no idea how relieved I am,’ Fawzia said. ‘I never ever wanted to go against your father’s wishes.’ Then she suddenly sat forward, beaming at him. ‘Oh, now I can give it to you!’ ‘Give me what?’ Jumping up quickly and disappearing into her bedroom, she soon emerged, holding out a little leather pouch, held closed at the top by a thin thong of the same material. ‘Check this out!’ She declared, handing him the pouch in one graceful motion. Rashid opened the pouch and upturned it to empty whatever it contained into his left palm. A plain little silver ring fell out. ‘My mother gave it to me when I was fifteen,’ Fawzia said softly, ‘God rest her soul. She told me to treasure it. She said it was from a set of two, it’s a sort of …’ Her voice trailed off as Rashid shot off the sofa, holding his head in his hands, as if in pain, mouth agape and staring at the ring – as if it were some kind of monster. Countless thoughts, total confusion racing through his mind. Could a person’s world be really shattered like this, like a broken mirror – in a matter of moments? And after things had started to fall into place for them… to work out for them? After all the trouble they had been through? He could hear Fawzia’s voice, but as if from a distance, in a tin, desperate, pleading: Rashid what’s wrong? Are you all right. What’s it? Hey, Rashid… The events of the last three days flashed through his mind. The events leading up to this. *** On Friday when his father had phoned him to come to “the farm”, the smallholding in Mazowe, the first thing Rashid did was call his best friend and confidant, Absalom. Now, soaking up the Saturday morning sun, half under the umbrellas at their favourite spot in First Street, the two slapped hands loudly as they settled down, waiting for their order. ‘Thanks again for coming Solo. So how’s things otherwise?’ ‘I’m good and you?’ ‘Ah well…’ ‘I just had to make it Rashid. When I got your message I knew it must be important. So I made it my duty to come quickly. I took the car to that guy Mupostori in Magaba, he’s good with starters… it’s Wiza again huh? You guys been fighting again?’ ‘Well, it is about her, but a fight with her… no, not really.’ ‘So, what gives then?’ Absolom asked. ‘The old man says we must talk, no hard feelings about the fight me and him had two weeks ago, he says.’ ‘Fight?’ Absolom exclaimed in surprise. ‘Sorry, I didn’t tell you Solo, but we had one hell of a row and I’ve been keeping away from him and Fawzia. I had to think things over you know… make a choice… the old man or her… that kind of thing. I decided… hell man, life goes on,’ Rashid continued slowly, his face a solemn mask, ‘I’ve got my own life to live. No matter how it disappointed him, I was going to see Fawzia. But somehow I just didn’t make a move and I haven’t seen her since. And now the old man wants to see me. You know how I’ve always respected Dad’s wishes Solo.’ ‘No wonder… I can’t remember who it was I met last week, and they were worried that you weren’t yourself these days. Yes, it was soccer at Arcadia Sports Club!’ ‘I don’t know Solo, I feel a bit… you know, ugh I just can’t explain it,’ he shrugged, ‘but somehow that things will work out. It’s scary, the way I argued with the old man. That’s why I need you to come with me.’ ‘So let’s get a cab and go see if the car’s ready,’ Absolom said. The car was not ready and they only hiked to Mazowe Sunday morning. They would sleep over at the farm. A young new farmer gave them a lift in his battered Mazda pick-up. On the way Rashid reflected on how vastly different this area was to his original home area, an arid part of Matabeleland where his father, a staunch Muslim, had once owned a small gold mine, sold eventually for the piece of land in Mazowe. The gaunt, bespectacled old man rushed out of the homestead gate to meet them as they approached. A short, dark man of sixty whose Arab ancestry was still deeply etched in his facial features, the old man extended his arms in warm welcome and the three greeted each other with genuine enthusiasm. After a quick meal, the old man wasted no time and asked Absalom to leave him alone with his son in the dining room. ‘Rashid my son,’ the old man began, ‘I have changed my mind about you and the girl F…’ ‘Fawzia.’ ‘Yes. Your wishes are granted and you may do what you see pleasing in the eyes of Allah. He has given-‘ ‘What is wrong father?’ ‘Wrong? You say wrong my son? No. Nothing is wrong. It is me, I think, that was wrong.’ ‘Why do you say that father? You always wanted the best for us. Abdul, Shereen…all of us, I mean, we always listen when you –‘ ‘No Rashid, you’re the only one I can talk to. The others, they…all they think of is town life; their cars and those hand phones carried all over, they think I’m mad. They say ‘leave the bush, come stay in town’. For what Rashid, for what? I would die without all this. I thought about it and saw that I have been unfair on you my son. I suppose any father wants his child to marry into – ‘ ‘Father, what you said was – ‘ ‘No Rashid, don’t try to justify my actions. It is not that I dislike the girl in any way… just some strange feeling that all was not right somehow.’ ‘I understand your concern father,’ Rashid choked. ‘Now wait,’ the old man said, rising from his chair, ‘I have something for you.’ He disappeared into his bedroom but soon emerged with a small leather pouch in hand. Back in his chair, he upturned the pouch and a small plain silver ring rolled out onto the table. ‘This is for the girl,’ the old man said softly. ‘Give her my love and ask for her forgiveness. It is not really a full ring; it is part of a set of two which make up a full ring. I will explain. ‘Your late mother and I, we believed it to be that way – before we parted. I heard she went on to have a daughter by another man. She passed away when the girl was…but ugh, it is not for me to talk to you about. Here, take it,’ he handed the pouch with the ring inside to Rashid then father and son hugged each other tightly, tearfully. Finally, the old man had accepted their relationship. He couldn’t wait to tell Fawzia the good news… |
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