Those were cruel days, I may say. Always I wished only to slip down from God’s eye. I ceased from prayers. I ceased from reading of St. Joseph. At the library I could not be granted pockets, as I had no postal bag, so I must study books there what hours I could steal from bearing parcels, weary and too weak. I feared as to my English, with no studies and conversing.
At last one night I saw great throngs passing in at Town Council Hall, rejoicing. It was when after long struggle Zimbabwe was free in victory. Some way I could not be glad in this, because in this free nation of Botswana I was not progressing. Soon those bush fighters would be as kings in Zimbabwe, and it was said many brave fighters were in fact mere boys, not school-trained even up to Standard Three.
In no way could I gain a seat within. Thick as bees, some guys made noises chatting even whilst ministers were giving off statements of great importance. Therefore I lingered on the outside, regarding many posters of the war that were stating as to all kind of tasks and vowing chimurenga many times over.
So at once a fat whiteman saw me there. He was rushing, with a camera. He said to come aside to the shadows. With no greetings whatsoever he asked me if I speak English and if I can greatly help him. If I can swiftly pull down some posters, he shall give me at his house three pula each, which he said as “puler.” He said he must go forward to the stage, else he should pull down these mementos for himself. He stayed in Seepapitso Crescent, plot number three-zed-twenty. He said I am a friend to these comrades, never fear. Those posters are mounted up with mere spots of chewing gum, he said. Others shall take them, he said, unless we are fast.
All whilst he spoke, I said to beware, for this was thieving. But yet if this guy was well pleased, I could venture with asking any kind of job from him. So I saw I must do it.
In all I saved six posters, very fast. Then at once some guys saw me, hailing out cries that said I was a traitor. So I ran fast, going all about amongst vehicles until I could turn up these things tight into a stick and thus escape.
All the night to come I was fearful. As children we are made always to beseech God. But I was blocked from prayer, fearing even as to prayers to Sister Honoria, a mortal, because clergy are at all times watched on by God. But at last I saw my hope. I said if you hand up these things freely for no payments whatsoever, you are no thief, and this guy will be the more pleased about it. If at all there was to be a thief, he would be the thief, as I would take nothing. So at that I slept on.
I found his place with ease, as there was a sign naming Jarvis and the plot number as I had it. My heart played fast, for all this plot within the fence was in ruins and untidy. Dog holes stood throughout the street fence. I said what! a Type One house with no one raking, arms of trees scraping on the roof, gum-tree bark fallen down, dry gardens. It was evening-time.
There was no dog about, yet signs stated to beware a dog. I walked slowly there. I saw dark ghostly quarters at the rear, thus there were no servants with them, I was sure of it. His Land-Rover was brown with dust all over. I was at the back way. A white woman was before me in the kitchen. In her lips a Santos Dumont burned whilst she cooked up meat, stirring. I knocked the windowpane. She too was fat. She shook her head, sharp, as if to send me straight away, and thus some ashes of her smoking fell down into that food. She took no notice, I may say. I have no job, she said. Ga ke na tiro, she said, over again.
So I went at the front to find this man. He was there. I knocked. He rejoiced at once, with those posters in his hands. He said I must come in. He said we must see them, both together. That floor was in disorder. We pushed articles aside. That place was heaped on every hand with books, journals, all kind of papers and photographs widespread, tumblers, photographs in boxes. He praised those posters endlessly. He must have his wife to see. That place was in great disorder.
Soon enough it came up to payments. I refused. Then he said he cannot believe me. At once I spoke of work. I said I can do yard work. I said I was homeless. Still always I refused money. He said they must forever have no servants, because of some very great beliefs. I told him of my straits. He said I must take more money than three pula for each one. But always still I refused. Then he said I must take tea.
He went aside to his wife to discuss. He said they can hire me. It was against her will, I could hear it, and worst as it came up to accommodation. She was in fear lest she always overtake me on the inside of her house. He said there was Primus and WC in quarters, so I can stay out. As well, he said if I should go there they can cease their shame as to many Batswana homeless and no one in that empty place. But she said she was afraid lest I arouse her every day from sleep as I set about working. He said But sometimes if I am away a gecko can drop down upon you, as we know, and this lad can chase it out. But she said Why must you forever force this thing when our food is hot? — that is the only reason you are succeeding. So at the end it was all right, but I must swear to many rules. I must never use such words as master or mistress, and many other rules as well.
So at last I was a bit safe. I could lock my goods. Mma Jarvis gave to me all such things as chairs, wardrobe, table, pots, cloths, tub, Primus cooker, bed, paraffin lamp, as well as mealie, thousand cabbages, and wash-powder. Can you borrow me some books at times? I said to Rra Jarvis. You may choose every book, he said. With all pleasure he would do it. Very great-sized atlas, he borrowed me at once, and more books thereafter. Really, those people were by far too carefree, with payments time and again beyond my terms. He said I must become more fat. He explained me chimurenga as “great storm of people,” very freely, so I said there can be many countless questions solved at last.
Endless days I worked to clean that plot and all the verge as well. I healed some trees, I know it. I scalded ants within their holes. I pulled down mistletoe from trees. Where termites pushed their nest mud high on tree sides, I scraped them to hell. I was a savior many fold. Guys passing in the road saw me watchful there and stepped onwards. Because you can go for asking jobs and just take some things. You can open cars. You can take shirts found hanging.
That man was strong for Africans, I may say. Without fail at morning he would shower curses on the news reader of Springbok station from Johannesburg, as You are murderers, or cretins, at times. Refugee guys came there rather much for drinks and meals. He was helping them.
By my terms of work, I must be always without the house. Mma Jarvis was ever painting scenes of life and must be in silence thus. So it was okay. I liked it best. I was progressing. Soon I would post a letter to my mother, I knew.
But all too soon, what! I must be made to have a house key. They must go some days to Tuli Block on holiday. I said I rathermore have no key, yet they said I must. They praised me. I must only switch on lights at night, and water in some pots of plants. My heart was choked. If at all some goods or cameras could go missing, they would name one thief: Paul Ojang. Thrice I spoke against this. But I was forced to hold a key, in fact. Before I took that house key, Mma Jarvis gave me oftentimes the key for post, that I must bring. All such signs of trust were scaring to me.