Nyako and his bag

Zag Kunde Chronicle #006

New to the story? Start at the beginning.

==

Where were you? Mother asked as soon as he was within earshot.

And where were you, might I ask? Nyako responded, still standing in the doorway smiling.

Nyako’s smile reminded her of times past when he’d disappear for months and return with an exotic gift for her that was so mesmerizing that she forgot her anger long enough for him to slip back into normal living unpunished, unrepentant.

He had his small cross-body bag - he always had this bag - pale green with a long strap that hung from his right shoulder across to his left hip. It contained his cigarettes and his special blend of tobacco for pipe-smoking with friends when they visited.

The bag also held his secrets.

Mother and the children were never to touch it. They couldn’t. Even when he slept, he put it under his pillow. Many of Mother’s most precious belongings came from that bag. A topaz ring from the coastal lands that she wore for Mukalo’s initiation. A bright red headdress made from mountain silk that she wore to Zag’s eighth-day naming ceremony. If Mother was considered sophisticated by the other village women, it was at least in part because of the things that came from that bag whenever Nyako returned from his travels.

But today was different. She didn’t want to know what was in the bag. She wanted to know where he’d been.

I asked you first. Where were you? If you’re not going to answer, just leave!

Nyako responded: I’ll leave when I want to, but tell me of another house in this village where a husband returns to an empty house with no food?

He was still smiling that cock-sure lazy smile. The look she gave him made him know that she knew he was bluffing and would not be shamed into backing down.

Cook it yourself! she said

He quickly softened his approach.

Don’t be like this Maiya wa Moyo.

He called her by her full maiden name, which he rarely did. He only ever did this twice before when he had something important to say. The first time was 10 years ago to tell her that the elders had decided that Chiza, her daughter who had died two days after birth was to be buried outside the village because it was considered “okan” or anathema for a child to die before their naming ceremony. The second time was three years ago, when he had been away for nine months without contact, and had returned home drunk. Maiya had packed her bag and was ready to take Zag (who was two years old at the time) and return to her mother’s village. He had assured her that he would never leave again and she had decided to stay.

Go and play with your friends Zag, she said to her son who was still holding onto her hand, unsure what to do.

Relieved, Zag ran off to play with his friends who were making mud cars with the run-off from the standpipe. When he tuned in he could hear his mother’s thoughts but most of what he was hearing now he could not understand. He could feel that she was unhappy but he tuned it out by playing and laughing hard with his friends.

Maiya brushed past Nyako and walked into the house. He followed her in and turned the light on. They had two solar-powered lights in the house - one for the family space, which doubled as the living room and indoor kitchen, and one for the bedroom. The light had the effect of making their long shadows touch the roof. She made eye contact with him for the first time. He seemed to have become more manly than when he left. His jaw, still sharp, seemed to have widened and his shoulders were more open - more confident. It seemed like wherever he had been, he’d been working hard. His face had a soft shine that made her yearn to touch it.

But not today.

I’ll ask one last time, she said. Where were you?

Ok. I’ll tell you, he said. Can we sit down?

Maiya chose a stool on the opposite side of the living room to where Nyako sat. It was a small room, but she didn’t want her longing for his touch to overpower her disdain for him.

I found a job near Mukalo’s school. They didn’t pay much but I earned enough money to pay for the next term’s tuition. Here’s the money.

He reached into his bag, produced a wad of notes, and put them on the small, cloth-covered table in the middle of the room.

Maiya did not move.

Did you see Mukalo while you were there?

Yes, many times. In fact, I saw him today.

He didn’t know that Maiya had just been there. She decided to hear him out.

What time?

Just before I came here. They had the football tournament this weekend so I watched them play.

Mukalo doesn’t play football anymore. He stopped when he was eight.

Him: Not from what I saw. I think he might have a future as a football player. Even though I want him to become a scientist. He’s smart enough.

She wanted to make sure: What was he wearing? she asked.

A green top, like the rest of his team. They were playing against Kola Boys School who wore red. Mukalo played very well. Afterwards he said he asked if we could buy him a school shirt. Pale blue. So I left and bought one and returned to the school to give it to him.

I see, said Maiya. She was now sure he hadn’t been there.

Did you also see the spear competition?

That’s next week, he said.

Her anger had dissipated by now. A dull sadness replaced any hope that she had that he had returned as a transformed man.

Did you eat?

No. Like I said, there was no food.

I’ll go and cook, she said.

It would give her time to figure out what to do.