The Bride Price: An African Romance (Chitundu Chronicles) (23 page)

For a brief period, Bwalya attended the Full Gospel Evangelical meeting, but when he confessed that he was positive for HIV, the pastors said they could  not accept a person with HIV, nor want them in their midst contaminating others.   Karin too was singled out and asked if it wasn’t HIV that made it necessary for her to be in the wheelchair. Her daughter was denied admittance into the preschool that Karin herself had founded in the village.  Now, the family fiber was stretched as the two parents struggled to provide for their child and shield her from stigmatization.

The newspapers began to carry a few articles on this mystery disease, but it was seen as a visitation of punishment on those who fornicated or committed sodomy, and the best advice was to avoid anyone who tested positive.  As a result, few people went to be tested.  There was a growing consensus that those with the disease should be shunned, and this led to fewer people willing to admit that they had the disease, or had lost family members to HIV.  Some suggested those infected should even be denied a funeral, if they were known to carry the virus. 

Bwalya’s first encounter with a positive HIV message of hope came from a group of gay men who were traveling in Africa.  They shared their medications and reported that HIV was also in other parts of the world.  For a brief time, Bwalya felt hope and opportunity, and felt better after taking the medications.  He could not overcome the fact that he was now the last of his brothers alive, and that his parents might learn of his illness.  He had already shirked having them meet his wife, who was not only white, but handicapped.  He didn’t want to face the criticism or questioning.   He was losing everything he had worked to attain, and finally, even his creative spark no longer kindled as he retreated into the world of the outcast. 

Joseph called his wife, Violet, out of the house and took her by the arm. “Violet, I have heard from Bwalya.  He is not well and he does not want us to come and see him. He says the school where he works is letting him go at the end of the month and that he will need someone to care for their daughter.  Do you know anything about this?”

Violet could see the anger and the pain in her husband’s face.  He had never confronted her like this, and she felt all her frustrations and fears run together like the whitewash on a freshly painted hut in an unexpected rain.

She answered him in a voice she did not recognize. “Why are you telling me this now?  It has been five, no, almost six years since the boy has visited us.  He went to University, we heard he had married and had a child, and suddenly, you are concerned.  Have you heard anything else?”

Joseph shook his head but said nothing more. He left for the gathering at the Rotary club. He had heard rumors that his son was ill, rumors he could not face. This was his last son out of nine. All the others had started out well, pushing their way into the business world, going to far places with big dreams. One by one, they had come home and each had passed away. There was no explanation for the wasting, the coughs, then the sudden catching of every disorder. One son had gone to hospital to try the new medicines, but it was too late and he died of pneumonia.  Just before he was gone, his wife had hurried back to her village, outrunning the rumors of what had become of her husband.  One had claimed her husband was killed as a peacekeeper in Congo, but no one had ever seen him in uniform, or heard of this position being available.

Bwalya was the only surviving son.  And he had not come to see them.  It was more than Joseph could bear. He found himself arguing with the men at his club, daring them to challenge him.  Later that same night, he stepped into his Toyota and drove home at breakneck speed, determined to take his wife and go visit the village of Burrisfuro where Bwalya lived.  Joseph’s mind was on his sorrows and what lay ahead of them on this journey.  He did not see the rocks that had rolled into his path. When they found his body, the map of Southern Africa lay spread across his lap. 

Bwalya’s paintings hung in the National Gallery and in the home of private collectors, but his depiction of life as it was, had altered.  He was no longer sought out.  Only his wife and his daughter reminded him of his youth, his travels, and the celebrity he had enjoyed. Bwalya could see how his sickness had hemmed them in from their friends and activities and taken away their freedom.  He passed away at his home two days short of his 33
^rd
birthday.

Karin arranged for his funeral, which was attended by half a dozen students and no faculty members.  Clair and Blessing were beside her along with his daughter Lily Wonder to see his casket lowered into the red earth. His family was notified by mail of his passing, and by that time, his grandfather Bishop had passed away, as well as the sudden death of his father Joseph. Three generations of men were gone from the family within the month.

Violet no longer went into town. She remained in her house, occasionally writing a letter or reading a newspaper, and taking Valium to calm her nerves. She had seen the ward at the hospital filled with young patients dying of this new plague called AIDS, but she didn’t understand how the disease was spread, nor could she admit that AIDS was what was taking her remaining sons; now all nine were dead. 

CHAPTER 35
KARIN PREPARES TO RETURN TO HOLLAND

Karin prepared the boxes for shipping.  She would be taking one set of Bwalya’s paintings to Holland, along with her personal journal and a single set of clothes.  The remainder of her belongings would remain in Zambia.

“Claire,  pick out some things you like.”   Claire looked with longing at the tape player and the cell phone, but she could not ask for these.

“I would like a bracelet that will remind me of you, Karin that one made of copper from Copperfine.   I would like to have a picture of you both.”

Claire wanted to ask for the picture Bwalya had painted of her, but she was unsure what Karin might make of this.  She and Bwalya had spent so many hours together when he was finishing her portrait.  Bwalya had called this painting of herself a masterpiece. She had not known before that a man could be a friend without taking something from you.  They had talked of art, of God, of the world outside this small village. She cherished the respect he had given her, and the trust Karin had shown in letting her spend these hours with her husband.  Now, he was gone and no one wanted to admit how much he was missed. 

Karin gave Claire the photo and the bracelet immediately, and filed away that it would be good for Claire to have a camera.  Karin also planned to leave Claire her comforter and all of the cooking pots in their kitchen.  Violet would not need these as her husband had been a supplier in the hardware business, and all these necessities would be in her household.  Claire had never shown an interest in Bwalya’s art, so it didn’t occur to Karin to ask if she would like the portrait he had made of her.  She had packed it to take with her to Holland.

Karin was not an art critic, but the painting was unforgettable. At the last moment, she decided to leave it for the grandmother to sell, along with two other paintings of landscapes of the area.

The packing was very quick, the tickets were purchased, and within a week, Karin was headed for Amsterdam.  She left two letters behind, explaining her departure from the school, her appreciation for the faculty, and her desire to have her child raised by her mother-in-law.  She also requested that Blessings Sikala be made guardian, in the event the grandmother could not fulfill her obligations, or chose not to accept the child and her estate. This woman had worked with her in forming the preschool and had loved Lily Wonder since the day she was born.

Then Karin was off, without a party, gifts, or prolonged farewells.  She had given their cat to Elise, her neighbor and consultant, and told her to take anything from the garden she could use, including the much coveted garden hose.  Karin was focused on breaking away quickly and without loose ends.  She did not see the pain she caused her friend Claire, who was grieving a double loss.  As she sat waiting for the flight to arrive, Karin recalled the conversation she had had with Claire.

CHAPTER 36
PREPARATION TO LEAVE

Claire looked at her friend in amazement.  “How can you give up the child you and Bwalya had, in spite of everything the doctors warned?”

Karin wanted to agree with her friend in what she was saying.  She and Bwalya had been so eager to see the birth of their child.  The village and the school had been so welcoming when Lily Wonder was born, and concerned that the mother would not survive the birth.  It had been a time of challenge to give birth in the basic little clinic of this village, without anesthetics, ultra-sound, or even an x-ray machine.  Karin had been proud of her ability to endure the pain and to deliver their child. Bwalya was the ideal father, never indicating that he would have preferred a son, as so many men do.

When Bwalya learned he was HIV positive, he and Karin bonded even closer.  Biology and medical issues were foreign to both of them, but they studied up on the disease and did their best to support each other. Bwalya refused any intimacy with her once he learned he was positive, so the closeness they had shared physically, and which had been so healing to her as her MS progressed, was over.  She had accepted that this was the only way he knew to protect her and their child.  Now, she had to decide what would benefit their child.  She also needed to get medical help for her MS that was steadily worsening, and explain to her parents how her life had altered.

Karin knew Claire could not understand what this small village in Africa had to offer.  She had heard about Europe and it was like Disneyland to her, a magical kingdom where all children have enough to eat, they enjoy life, and they grow up.  She could not know the undercurrents of being a minority child, much less a child orphaned by her father, and with a disabled mother.  Karin didn’t explain.

“Trust me, Claire.  I know what is best for my child.  Bwalya has always honored his mother by telling of how she cared for the children.  There was no animosity towards her.  I think he was just selfish in not taking the time to travel and see her. His art consumed his passion and his spare hours. You know how intense he was about teaching his students the essence of being creative.  There were so many other brothers and cousins; he didn’t really think his mother missed him that much.  We were busy with our teaching and our personal issues.  We forgot that his family—and mine as well—would be there for us. And we were selfish about our lives as a couple. We loved the privacy and the freedom to be ourselves. By the time we realized we needed them, Bwalya was in a state where he did not want them to see his condition.  He did not communicate with his parents.  I think he may have talked to one of his older brothers, but anything having to do with sex was taboo. I doubt any of them confided what illness had been stalking them.”

“Now, there are no brothers surviving and the wives deny anything that could cause them to be stigmatized.  My best recourse is what I am doing.  Violet should live a long time and my daughter will have the benefit of her love and full devotion.  That is what I anticipate.  I will need you and Elise to assure that the woman does attach to this child.” Claire nodded to show she understood.

“Karin, I will be your eyes. If there is any hesitation on the part of the grandmother, I will call you immediately.”  Claire wondered if she could have parted with any of her children in this way.  She stopped herself from thinking whether more of them would have survived had she been able to get more help from her family.  It was water under the bridge.

She and Karin continued packing until all the paintings were wrapped and sealed, all the clothing sorted and packed into containers for taking, dispersing, or leaving behind for the grandmother and child.  They hugged when the taxicab arrived and Karin handed Claire a key to the house.  Then she was off.

CHAPTER 37
HOLLAND

Karin watched her mother prepare ginger tea, crushing the slices of ginger root, pouring boiling water over them, adding lemons.  Her mother was twice her age, but athletic and flexible as she bent over and pulled cups from below the counter.  She stored her cups and breakable china beneath the counter, unlike so many women who stored the pots there and the cups and china in a more visible upper cupboard.

“I have never asked you why you put your best cups down below where no one can see them.” she said.

“They could drop if they are overhead and would shatter on the stone counter.  I have never lost a cup in thirty years.  The pots are durable.” She looked at her daughter, thinking of all the questions she had for her.  Maybe after a couple of days, a few cups of tea, she would begin to ask them.  How could this mother have left her child behind, her only grandchild?  Did she have any idea how much a grandmother would want to see her grandbaby?

Karin sipped the tea and looked at her mother closely.  She could tell her mother was feeling strong emotions, the way her neck became rosy and her cheeks flushed.  She didn’t really want to know what it was, she had enough to deal with, just getting used to Dutch culture again after so many years away.  Her mother had always found it easy to share her feelings, so much so that Karin didn’t want to risk the rush of emotions and avoided opening the spigot.  She was thirsty to know what her mother thought of her return, and the death of Bwalya, and the absence of Lily Wonder, but for now, she just wanted the comfort of tea, a crisp newspaper, and the Valium of morning television.  Soon enough she would sort out what she was going to do with the rest of her life.