The engine was switched off as soon as the car was brought to a stand still. I could now clearly see this tall, ebony, young and handsome man. I could guess he was in his mid-twenties. But who could this be? Since my husband died in a car crash as he was coming from one of the workshops he usually attended as one of the elite in the community, no one except my children had really cared to visit me. As the AIDS pandemic got serious I lost both my sons to this curse. What I got from these two sons were three opharns since the mothers were also promoted to glory within three years. I was useless then to these children.
Once I had worked as a primary school teacher during the colonial era but once I got married and was expecting my first child I had to leave work and never went back again. Now I was unemployed twenty years down the line, widowed, helpless with three orphans with my sons and daughters-in-law departed. I was only saved by my son-in-law who was by then in Germany, training to be an engineer at one of the colleges. He took all my grandchildren to provide them with a more decent life and education.
All this flashed through my mind within a few seconds as I was trying to think of whoever could think of me and drive all the way from wherever to this far place in Emakundleni in the hot and dry region of Matebeleland South of Zimbabwe.
The expression on my face should have made this guest very nervous. With a shaky voice, trying to be culturally respectful, he greeted, "Salibonani gogo." (Greetings to you grandma). I responded warmly, "Hebo muzukulu, kathi kunjani mutanami?' (Hello my grandchild, how do you do my child?). This should have driven out the fear that had just haunted him. The greetings proceeded as we took seats under a tree that grew along the fence just behind the kitchen.
I almost skipped myself when this man introduced himself. Of course we had been communicating with the uncle but the boys had since left their uncle as they went to college. Because of the poor network connections and scarcity of telephones in these rural communities of the country I did not even know what had become of them or what they had been doing. I was actually worried about them. Blessing! This could not be! Blessing! Was he not one of the detectives after some kind of facts in an investigation? Was he not one of these con men we hear about? But what would ayone want from a poor, lonely old woman like me?
"Gogo, what is wrong?" he asked as he could not see any joy in my face but confusion. "I am Blessing, your loving Zibusiso you used to rock under this tree that aunt Thandiwe (Beloved) always used to tell me about. I am your Zibusiso. You used to carry me on your back as you worked in the field. I am your Zibusiso, son of Sukoluhle (Perfect day) and Mandlenkosi (Power of God). Gogo, I have come to see you, to care for you, to listen to you and love you back like you did when I was not even aware. I have waited all these years to see 'my mother' and now I have. Gogo how I longed to meet you."
Tears were now streaming down his cheeks as I saw the inner man in that gentleman who looked so powerful when I first set my eyes on him. I could not help it, and neither was I aware that tears were also streaming down my cheeks. Carol was also about to cry as she was comforting me and urging me not to cry.
Carol was the granddaughter of a man who once headed my cattle when my husband was still living. His son married a local girl and they were blessed with three children. Carol's father was unfortunately irresponsible, ever tracking illicit beer and local teachers who would once in a while buy him some opaque brew. I felt for the mother and daughter. As she was now in grade four and the father was failing to pay her school fees I had decided to stay with her and provide all her educational needs from the little I got from my daughter and son-in-law. This was also important to me as it would cut down on the loneliness I would endure when I stayed all by myself.
After calming down we had a special reunion with my Zibusiso. I had to introduce Carol to our guest and he was well pleased with that. The sun was now setting and we had to move into the house. On that day none of us felt sleepy and we talked late into the night. We finally had to retire to bed.
I woke up to the sound of a heavy vehicle very close to the house. I woke up to investigate. It was just after six in the morning. This truck with a lot of attachments on its rear was being parked where Zibusiso's car was parked. He talked to the driver who alighted off the truck.
All I could do, seing this big electrified house, fully furnished modestly (according to my standards), with piped water from the borehole drilled a day after Zibusiso arrived, all the landscaping and whatever else I could not mention, I could only pray to god and cry for my husband who was not there to share it with me. All this time I had asked God. "Lord, why did you give a happy and enjoyable life at the beginning, a loss that was irreplacable, strength to work inorder to educate my kids so that they die prematurely? As if that is not much, more children to take care of. After that you give me loneliness and I never see my family. They may send in money but that is not all I need. I need love and happiness. Peace and Tranquility. Help me Lord."
Did God really answer our prayers? Yes He did. So I learnt. My family, grandchildren, daughter and son in law all came back to Zimbabwe. My son's children lifted me from the humble dust where I had been all this while, as if paying back for my toiling. All I could do daily was to praise God. Now I know that every storm has a cloud and every cloud has a silver lining.
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