The Bride Price: An African Romance (Chitundu Chronicles) (19 page)

There were no musical instruments in the house, but each of the children sang and the twins and Royal played the drums for school and church.  When evening came, and the dishes were washed, the two families sat in the main house on the ledge that circled the room. They completely filled the circular step, and it was pleasing to see how the family had grown. There were stories to tell and verses to recite.  Iris, Pansy, and Daisy sang a song they had memorized for this occasion.  They wore satin dresses with a touch of lace at the neck and sleeves, and a contrasting sash their mother had sewn for them. Their voices blended perfectly. When they came to the lower part of the register, Festal joined in with a baritone voice to help them get through this part of the song. They looked up at him with admiration and he nodded at them to let them know he was proud of them. Reuben and Samuel cooked up a short skit with their cousins; performing it
to
much applause, much of it their own. It had more action than plot, and many rough and tumble battles.  It was late when they sang their evening prayer with their Aunt Violet, and headed to bed, eager for the next day’s play.

Violet and Joseph drove back to Blancville, encouraged by the order and peace of the Phiri family, and wondering if they should be doing something different with their own brood. They glossed over the differences. Violet reassured Joseph that he was an excellent provider and model for his sons, who were just very free-spirited young men; not to worry that they liked to wrestle and rough house rather than sing or recite. There was plenty of time for them to develop their minds and spirits

“Let them be kids,” Violet said.

CHAPTER 31
VIOLET AND JOSEPH PROSPER

In Blancville, the population was increasing, and Violet and Joseph were contributing mightily. Every couple of years, another boy arrived. Each was cuddled and adored by their parents and the grandparents next door. They were handsome and healthy with full, thick hair, shining square teeth, and unblemished skin. They were taller and more energetic than many of the children at their school, and all of them were involved in soccer or cricket. Violet had the best medical care and assistance that Joseph could provide. Joseph’s partner, Valoo, had remained in India, except for short visits every couple of years. He, too, had grandchildren arriving, and was doing his best to instill values in them, he told Joseph. Joseph had remarked how Myrna and Festal seemed to have a tight knit caring family, while his own were boisterous, more like a rambling vine than a tree giving shade.

Valoo encouraged Joseph in being a father, and reminded him that there was still time for him to introduce moral principles and discipline, but Joseph liked his rambunctious flock of sons. He indulged his wife with the latest fashions that he came across in the urban areas. When her boys were old enough to travel, they did the same. Benjamin was the oldest and the first to attend school in Joseph’s family. Joseph was proud of his son, and would ask him to read a book to him in the evenings, —
The Greatest Salesman.
But the boy said he was tired, or needed to practice for his cricket league, and the book was never finished. When his cousins came to visit, Benjamin encouraged them to play sports with him. Then he would beat them mercilessly, as he was strong and trained.  Taller than all the brothers.  When they reached teenage years, however, some began to pass him in height and strength. At that time, he lost interest in wrestling or competing with them.

Bishop and Beatrice sat in the pew of the Full Gospel Presbyterian Church at the right of the support column.  They observed families filing in, their own pew filled with their older children. The youngsters would soon be escorted to the Ark Sunday school for younger children.

Beatrice smoothed her wrap and looked over her children with a satisfied complacency.  She and Bishop had been married noticeably longer than most of the others in their congregation, longer even than this church had been in existence—and it had been a fruitful joining.  Seven children living, three now married, and the remainder getting schooling as finances allowed. Joseph had assured the Chitundus he could use more distributors, so they knew their boys would have gainful employment.

Bishop  and Beatrice could have wished that Myrna was closer to them, but Violet with her throng of boys filled their days with anecdotes and adventures. Their own youngest child Jethro was a playful boy with a disarming smile and the tendency to make people laugh.  He watched their faces and those of their guests for cues as to what would entertain and delight them. Neither parent had any idea of how Jethro’s life would turn out.  No child in their village had taken to performing, yet this seemed to be what fascinated Jethro. He was going to be in the Christmas pageant this year, the youngest child.

Beatrice pulled Jethro by his coat and motioned for him to sit down. The reflection time before the altar call was about to begin.  She could hear small titters of laughter at her boy’s antics.

Bishop’s thoughts were on the dinner that would follow the service. He wondered if the kerosene in his refrigerator would hold out.  They had guests coming over and he wanted the drinks to be cold.

Bishop sometimes wondered if he should have set some goals for his children. Stephen had finished his course at secondary school and become a math tutor. His wife Esther seldom visited their home, and had not invited them to theirs, saying it was too small to make them comfortable. Bishop did not know what the issues were between them, but he was not surprised when Stephen decided to stop teaching and start driving cab.  He could make almost twice the money, now that the economy was good, and tourists and businessmen were coming to the area. Joseph helped him get a vehicle for the taxi, service, and within the first two years, Stephen had paid him back. Stephen and Esther now lived on the outskirts of Blancville, closer to Esther’s parents. They had one child who spent more time at Esther’s parents’ house than she did in her parent’s according to Beatrice. The girl was seldom brought to see the Chitundus, and this caused pain to Beatrice, so Bishop avoided mentioning the family as much as possible.

Bishop had set some goals for Myrna. The disappointment of having to take her from her schooling was almost as hard to bear as the death of their first child, Eunice. He had said this so often, the words came now without feeling or thought.  These were peaceful times for Beatrice and Bishop, with letters from the country, telling how Myrna’s family was growing, and occasional visits from their son Thomas, who was now in the prestigious Royal Academy boarding school that Myrna had attended. 

Thomas was not a challenge to them, and seemed to be making his way in a sure, if uneventful course of study with no idea what he wanted to do when he finished.  He did love being on the cricket team. What was the path that Violet’s children would take? He knew that Joseph wanted them educated and spent time with them as they grew up. But Bishop wondered if they had been too scattered in their approach to the boys’ education. None of them sustained an interest beyond what came easily. They didn’t worry about their future, nor were they competitive if it wasn’t comfortable.

Only Bwalya had shown a talent for any particular field. He had a desire to be an artist early on and would defend the illustrations he made in the margins of his exercise books. Joseph tried to understand Bwalya’s art, and when he asked him about it, Bwalya would tell him,
if it doesn’t tell a story with emotion and color, why bother?
He was a skilled artist, everyone said, but the grandparents had never seen him or his art since he returned from Europe. The other brothers would show up from far regions with tales of their travels, and gifts they brought back for their grandmother.

Beatrice was surrounded by her throng of grandchildren on the holidays, and sometimes on Sunday when they joined them for a special barbecue. No, Bishop certainly could not complain about the family they had raised together.  The music started and Bishop felt his eyelids grow heavy with the peacefulness and familiarity of the sounds. He was asleep before the message on the Great Commission began.

Violet and Joseph spent Sunday morning in the warehouse. They led a circumscribed life with their business ventures drawing the circle. The assistant they hired to help had fallen ill, and the two of them were taking inventory of the stock. Buying, stocking, selling, and then repeating the cycle— occasionally choosing a new product to try— was Joseph’s strategy. It was dark and cool in the building, a relief from the blast of heat outside on this November day.

When most of the goods had been accounted for, they took a break to eat some Welsh meat pies and take a drink of tea.  By now, the tea was cold, but sweet to their taste.

The first years of Violet and Joseph’s marriage had been a blur of infants, nannies, and visits to relatives to share the children.  After they had passed the difficult times of infancy and childhood they had expected a release from the constant watchfulness over the health of their sons. The boys were in middle school, then secondary school, and vocational school when a cloud moved over the country. One by one, something was claiming the lives of young people, as surely as the cholera had taken the cattle from grandparents in days of old.  This disease was not named, nor did anyone acknowledge that it had affected their families. The Leibitsangs attended the funerals of their sons’ friends, crossing themselves in gratitude that it had not been one of theirs. Benjamin, now a senior in college, and the others were attending various vocational and secondary schools. They offered up a prayer for the safekeeping of all their boys and gave generously when the plate was passed.

CHAPTER 32
GRADUATION

Joseph watched the line of graduates go forward.  He sat on a wooden folding chair next to Violet and felt the tightness of his breath against his chest.  He had not attended school, and now a son of his, was receiving a degree from the University.  As the music of the processional swelled, he wondered if others were feeling this overwhelming tightness in their chests. The tears welled up behind eyelids. He was swollen with happiness, his throat tight with emotion.

Nothing he had done in his work, or even his marrying his beautiful impala woman, compared with the pride he felt in having his son exceed his reach. Joseph knew he had made this success possible. For himself, employment and self-determination had been a quest.  Could he rise to be a man of civility and of execution?  It was not enough to have the ideas—could he make them tangible?  As he had watched his employer strive for success, there had always been a doubt of the outcome, a fear that underlay the enterprise. Now, this son graduating gave him his answer. He was humbled to be a part of the tradition of education and the acknowledgement it brought. 

Joseph glanced over at Violet to see if she was feeling a similar euphoria.  She squeezed his arm at that moment, without looking away from her son. Benjamin alone was her focus and her joy at that moment. Later, she and Joseph would make love on the floor of their bedroom, celebrating what they had created and brought to fruition.

The crowd rose and cheered for the victory of a long concentration and discipline.  Joseph would have a diploma to hang on the wall in his office, a reminder of this triumph.

Benjamin saw his parents in the crowd.  His father was wearing his best pinstripe gabardine suit, too warm for this November afternoon, but he knew how proud they were.  They could not know that his eyes were scanning the crowd for a girl forbidden to him. Benjamin’s thoughts were on Henrietta, a girl he had met in the cafeteria at his college when he had been sweet-talking the cook into serving him a snack after hours.   When Henrietta walked in with a basket of hot rolls balanced on her head, her small waist and tight breasts accented by the line her body made while she carried the basket on her head, Benjamin knew he had to learn all about this nymphet of a girl. Within the next few weeks, she was sneaking to his dorm room and making love in his bunk bed. They laughed at the danger of being discovered, or toppling off the narrow bunk.

He had also gone to her mother’s flat on days when the mother was at the ovens, baking the rolls that supplied the greater part of the city.  There he would join the girl on a mat on the floor, or behind the curtain that closed off the bedroom from the sitting room.  She was a petite, athletic girl with a ready smile and eyes only for him. He did not doubt what his mother would say to this match.  Henrietta had no family except for her mother, and her father had died from pneumonia when she was eight.  She was not of Ben’s tribe, nor did she have any intention of learning his mother tongue.  So why was he so in love with her?  He loved the adventure of his going to see her and planning how they would manage. She was not materialistic in the least. Her favorite gift was a page of music that he would sing to her, and she would transpose into a beautiful song.  Whatever she heard, she could imitate. Her family had fled from the wars to the north, she never specified more than this, but he knew her childhood had been as unlike his as her music was to his wailings. She was a vision, that is how he pictured her.  Now that he was graduating from the University people would begin to ask when he would marry.  He had already had Uncle Dodge making suggestions and trying to get him to share a drink and talk prospects.  Uncle Dodge had no idea how much Benjamin loathed him. 

Hen, for that was his pet name for Henrietta, knew that he had a hyena in the family, that is how he described the character of this uncle.  Sometimes they would play a game and try to guess how many cows, goats and chickens Uncle Dodge could negotiate for Hen.  Benjamin would make a tiny offer and Hen would pounce on him in mock fury.  One day, her mother had come in just as Hen had pounced.  Both of them came out with the identical lie, they had seen a mamba and were looking for it under the bed.  They did not know if the mother believed them, but she looked terrified and went rushing to get her broom to protect her child.