He had forgotten about the calendar. When he won the national art competition, his colourful drawing was one of twelve that were selected for use in the following year’s calendar. His was chosen for April. Even though Jwara had not shown any appreciation of the books that his son had won as a prize, Toloki hoped that he would be happy about the calendar. After all, it was going to grace the walls of homes and offices throughout the land. In April, everyone would know who Toloki was, for his name was printed just below the picture, together with the name of his school, and his age, and the class he was doing. Once more the big man from the milling company drove all the way from town to the village school to deliver a big bunch of calendars. Toloki asked for three, one each for himself, his father, and his mother. When he got home he ran excitedly to the workshop, and found his father brooding over his figurines.
‘So, now you think you are better? You think you are a great creator like me?’
‘I want to be like you, father. I want to create from dreams like you.’
‘Don’t you see, you poor boy, that you are too ugly for that? How can beautiful things come from you?’
But Toloki’s mother said Jwara was jealous.
‘Ha! The stupid images that you make have never appeared in any calendar. Toloki’s picture will be seen all over the country’
Jwara was so angry that he decreed that the disastrous calendar must never be seen in his house again. From that day, Toloki gave up trying to impress his father. And he gave up drawing pictures. He even — tearfully and with bitterness that gnawed at him for a long time afterwards — destroyed his precious calendar. But at his school they were proud of it, and through all the years, it was always April on the classroom wall. He is surprised to hear from Noria that to this day, after more than twenty years, it is still yellowing April at his school.
When the neighbours wake up that morning, they all come to witness the wonder that grew in the night. They marvel at the workmanship, and at how the plastic and canvas of different colours have been woven together to form patterns that seem to say something to the viewer. No one can really say what their message is, except to observe that it is a very profound one.
Toloki and Noria are working inside the shack, sweeping the floor with branches from a tree and firming it with their feet, when they hear a song outside. They walk out, and meet the singers: a group of children carrying water in small buckets and in bottles. Toloki recognises some of those who accompanied him with song and dance when he came looking for Noria yesterday.
‘We have brought you water for your floor, Mother Noria.’
‘Thank you, my children.’
The two creators mix soil and water to make very soft mud. Then they plaster the mud on the floor, making the geometric patterns that women make with cow dung back in the village. All the time the children sing and dance outside. At one stage they sing the song that they composed about Toloki yesterday. Noria angrily tells them that it is naughty of them to sing rude songs about adults. Toloki says, ‘Let them sing, Noria. Never stifle the creativity of children.’ But they are ashamed to sing the song again. Instead they sing other songs, some of which they have heard their parents, and their brothers and sisters, sing at demonstrations, and at political rallies and funerals. Soon the song becomes stronger, with the voices of adults joining in. The women of the neighbourhood, following the lead of their children, are bringing all sorts of household items to the shack. There are pots, a primus stove, a washing basin, a plastic bucket, a plate, and a spoon. There are even two old grey blankets, which are known as donkey blankets because of their colour, and a pillow. Another neighbour has brought a billycan of soured soft porridge, and steamed bread.
‘We want to lend you these things, Noria. You can use them until your situation has changed for the better, when you have found yourself.’
‘Thank you very much. Just leave them out there. I’ll put them inside when the floor is dry.’
‘You are lucky, Noria, to have neighbours like these.’
‘It is our life here at the settlement, Toloki. We are like two hands that wash each other.’
By midday the performers have all left, and the creators are hungry. They sit outside the shack and eat the steamed bread, and drink the porridge from the billy. Shadrack comes and joins them. He praises their work, and thanks Toloki for helping Noria. Toloki wonders why he should take it upon himself to thank him on behalf of Noria. Where was he when he was growing up with Noria in the village? But he keeps these thoughts to himself, and gracefully accepts the man’s expression of gratitude. Then Shadrack says he wants to talk privately with Noria. She stands up and they go behind the shack. Toloki can hear every word they say.
Shadrack says that he wants to return all the money she paid him for petrol. Noria wants to know why. In a voice that is hoarse with passion, he says, ‘Because I have realised how much I love you, Noria. When we were in the van, and we were talking about our lives, and our dreams for our people, I realised that you were my soulmate. I think this has been growing in me for a while. I do not know why I was blind for such a long time.’
Noria thanks him for his kind words, and says that it is very flattering for her, a ragged woman of hopeless means, to be loved by such a great man as Bhut’Shaddy. Indeed the temptation is very great for her to be captivated by his honeyed tone. But unfortunately she finds it impossible to love at the moment. She advises the lovelorn man to find someone more deserving of his affection. There are many young girls — some of them are even beauty queens and others have education — who would give their right arm to be his wife. Shadrack utters an anguished scream, ‘I need you, Noria. I have no one to eat my money with.’
‘You need me for the wrong reasons, Bhut’Shaddy.’
‘At least think about it, Noria. And please take this money.’
‘I am sorry, Bhut’Shaddy, I cannot accept it.’
Noria comes back to join Toloki, who is watching a disappointed Shadrack scurry away in shame. There is a glint of satisfaction in Toloki’s eyes. But then again, he realises that his glee might be premature. Perhaps Noria is playing a game with Shadrack. Women are known to play such games before accepting proposals.
‘Why did you do it? You know he could make you live like a queen?’
‘I do not take things from men, Toloki.’
‘You do not? I thought. .’
‘That was long ago, Toloki. Life has changed since then. Even you, I am going to pay you back every cent you have helped me with.’
‘But I was doing it for you, Noria, because you are my home-girl, and we played together when we were children.’
‘I accepted your help because I knew you were doing it from your kind heart. You did not expect anything in return. But I insist that when I have found myself, I’ll pay you back.’
This is not the Noria of the village. In the village, we all knew that by the time she reached her mid-teens, she had acquired a reputation for making men happy. And in return they gave her things, which she gladly accepted. We were not sure whether it was Jwara who started her on this road. After all, she sang for him from the age of five, and he showered her with expensive presents in return.
The Noria of the village. Both she and Toloki began school in the same year. She was seven, and he was ten. He began school at a ripe old age because he had been looking after his father’s small flock of sheep and goats. This was before Jwara sold the animals to Xesibe in order to concentrate on his smithy. Toloki and Noria used to walk to school together. She cut a pretty picture in her khaki shirt and pitch-black gymdress, which was ironed every morning by That Mountain Woman. Unlike the gymdresses of other pupils at school, it maintained its sharp pleats, and it was not patched. Toloki, on the other hand, wore a khaki shirt and khaki shorts that were patched all over with pieces of cloth from his mother’s old dresses.