Who would have thought that a transit would lead to me knowing souls from back home?! Today was a good day, and I think there is a lot that can be said about fate and chance.
Passing through Woh to reach Agok; I was supposed to wait from nine till four in order to get my transport. I was not sure how I would pass the time. It looked certain that I would just need to type away on my machine till the battery ran out.
I heard them within earshot; two men. They were talking. “I come from Zimbabwe,” the other man was saying. “I work with a demining concern about 120 km from here. I have been here for more than 5 months now.”
I left my laptop running; not caring if the battery went flat and extended my hand to him,
“Makadini;
from which part of Zimbabwe do you hail?”
He is a DZ fellow, “location boy” born and bred in the populous part of Harare’s burgeoning residential areas, Dzivarasekwa.
He is happy to know me and tells me another Zimbabwean is with him. “We are many here,” he tells me with a smile, “There are three Zimbabwean police details working for UN here in Woh.
Whenever we have time, we meet and discuss home.”
At his demining camp there are at least a dozen Zimbabweans. They are all supervisors. The company is an offshoot from a Zimbabwean demining concern that was started by a veteran Zimbabwean army colonel.
We get to talk about the hard year that was 2007. It cost my friend a marriage.
“My wife could not get herself to accept that I lost a job as a caterer and could not bring money home like I used to. I stayed with her at my in laws. Right there in Dzivarasekwa… They treated me like scum.”
He tells how he began having problems at home with his mother in law. She felt her daughter needed someone with more money. She needed her daughter to have a “better future”
The woman began bringing other men home. His son, Innocent, began to know there were other men that could be called dad.
He decided enough was enough and went off to live with his cousins. They chased him away after two months; they could not support someone who did not have enough to look after them either.
This was when he secured a job in demining. Before long the job opportunity came in Sudan.
“I am going home to buy a housing stand. First I will pass through Juba and buy clothes for my mother and son. I have five new pairs of jeans. I am going to wear them all back home. I will buy three cell phones in Nairobi and will wear one on a neck chain when I go to see my son.”
His eyes are bright with determination as he relives what has been for him a sudden turn in fortunes.
He keeps patting his bags.
When he gets home tonight, Dzivarasekwa will rock to the sound of his voice.
