Chapter 17

Kuenda Mberi—Moving Forward

Chamu Tengani was in a very good mood. He had completed a successful business deal, and it seemed like everything he had always wanted was within his grasp. Zimbabwe had been dominated by foreign companies and banks, and now it seemed like Africans were about to break into traditionally white-dominated industries. He couldn’t be happier with his life. The woman of his dreams was about to become his wife, and he was going to get even richer. In his excitement, he picked up the phone on his desk and dialled her office number.

“Hi, darling,” he said when her heard her voice.

“Hello, Chamu,” Priscilla said.

“Can we meet for lunch?” he asked, trying to disguise the hope in his voice.

“Mmmh, I have a lot of work to do today. Let’s meet after work instead,” Priscilla said.

“That’s fine. I’ll have some lunch delivered to your office,” Chamu said.

“I’m not very hungry,” she insisted.

“You have to eat,” Chamu said. “And I’ll see you tonight.”

He hid his disappointment as he hung up the phone and looked around his massive office. He had what many other people would only dream of in any country in the world. And now he had a beautiful fiancée. Life was good. He wasn’t going to focus on the fear that she might change her mind, or that she didn’t seem as impatient as he was to spend time together. That would all come in time.

But one thing was for sure. As soon as they got married, he would have to find a way to make her quit her job. That job took up too much of her time, and too many men were salivating for her. He would have to tread carefully. There was an air of independence about her. Though he found it endearing now, her independent streak could be a problem later on in life. A woman needed to feel pampered, and he wouldn’t have any wife of his slaving at a desk when he made enough money to buy the company she worked for. No way.

* * *

Priscilla put the phone down at her desk, eating the lunch Chamu had sent to her office. She now wanted more than anything to find her real father. She felt the urgency growing inside just as her baby was being formed in her belly. Before it had been a nagging feeling, nudging at her. Now it was something she thought about each day.

Aunt Mukai was going to tell her parents about her intended marriage. They had discussed how they would do it at length, and Aunt Mukai advised her to just have the marriage ceremony through Oliver and not bring up anything about her real father. Mukai felt that opening up that hive of bees would just delay her marriage ceremony. The fact was that Priscilla had recently learned the name of her biological father.

Getting his name had not been easy. Monica refused to speak, but Mukai knew the place where she had worked when Oliver kicked her out. It was a grocery store in Chitungwiza. After finding that out, she had asked the employees to find out about Monica Pasipano. A call had come through that Monica had worked there twenty-three years before and was about to marry the owner’s nephew, Robert. The owner remembered her very well.

Robert Chigoni. My father is Robert Chigoni.

* * *

After work, Chamu came to pick her up. For such a busy man he always had time for her. Priscilla got into his Mercedes and put her head back. She felt exhausted.

“Did you have a wonderful day?”

“It was nice, Chamu. I’m just tired,” she said.

“We can go and have dinner somewhere,” he suggested, putting his car in traffic.

“Something quick, like Nando’s,” she said, smiling.

“Nando’s? That’s fine, but I was thinking more of a fancy restaurant.”

“You take me to too many of those,” she said.

“I like to take my lady to the very best.”

The Nando’s line wasn’t very long. They bought quarter chicken and chips. Priscilla ordered a very hot one. She had been craving spicy food lately, and Portuguese chicken fit the bill.

As they sat down to eat, Priscilla decided to tell Chamu about her father.

“I would like to find him,” she said after her explanation.

“What’s his name?” Chamu asked. He was still shocked at what she had told him, but was not going to show it and make her more upset.

“Robert Chigoni,” Priscilla said.

“I know that man,” Chamu said, surprising her.

“You know him?”

“Yes. He’s very well known in the political field. He had a top position in government at one time and even served as ambassador to a few countries.” Priscilla touched her neck and looked down. He knew her father. Her father was somewhere in this city.

“He owns a lot of buses now from what I have heard. He could even be my competitor,” Chamu continued.

“Thank you for the information, Chamu,” Priscilla said, wrapping her half-finished food in a bag.

“What are you going to do? Do you want to see him?”

“I don’t know, Chamu. I’ll have to sleep on it. I didn’t think it would be so easy to find him. I thought I would have to hire a private detective.”

“Well, I’m your man. I can arrange for you to meet him,” Chamu said, taking a sip of his Coke.

“No. I think I want to do this alone,” she said. Chamu looked disappointed. “Thank you, though,” Priscilla added. She seemed to be always thanking him.

They talked about the wedding as they drove home.

“I can’t wait for this arrangement to be over so I can take you to my house as my wife,” Chamu said.

“It won’t be long. Aunt Mukai is going to speak to my father and his uncle,” Priscilla said, looking at the setting sun. Getting married was such a long process. Even though times had changed, some of the old traditions still remained in the people of Zimbabwe. Before a traditional marriage ceremony could be arranged, many people had to be notified. After telling aunts and uncles, the parents would be told. Chamu disliked the long and unnecessary process, but knew that there was no way to avoid it. The culture was in the people no matter how different they dressed or lived.

When they got to her apartment, Chamu insisted on walking her to her door. He followed her into the living room. Priscilla wanted to tell him to leave, but felt she would be going too far. She knew she was lukewarm to him most of the time. Being outright rude would be unfair.

He was such a sweet man. She wanted to be alone and think about what he had told her about her father, but she would have to do that later, after he was gone.

“I’ll sit with you for a while,” Chamu said, sitting down on the sofa. “What were you going to do tonight?”

“Watch some TV,” Priscilla replied, sitting on a sofa opposite him. She turned on the TV with a remote. It was another gift from Chamu.

“What are you thinking?” Chamu asked looking at her. “You look serious and very beautiful.” Priscilla didn’t want to tell him exactly what had been on her mind, but there were many other things she could discuss with him.

“I was thinking of buying a car,” Priscilla said.

Chamu raised an eyebrow. “A car? What do you need a car for?”

Priscilla felt her defences coming up. “What do you need a car for?” she challenged him, and Chamu laughed.

“You are right. I know you need a car, but I always have my drivers ready to come and pick you up. I even had a taxi from my company to be on the ready to pick you up any time, any place.”

“I know, but I feel uncomfortable with drivers,” Priscilla said. “I might be able to get a loan at work and buy a car. I just want to be independent. Come and go as I please.”

There goes the word again, independence, Chamu thought, trying to curb the anger rising in his chest. He had to choose his words carefully with her. She would flee at the slightest sign of restriction. She had flown from her parents’ home in the middle of the night.

“You want to buy a car? I want to buy you a nice car. One that is worthy of the loveliest woman in Zimbabwe. I don’t want you driving any old car from the junkyards. You need a nice reliable car with an alarm.”

“I just want something to get me around, and if I can afford it then why should you buy it for me?” Priscilla asked.

“Because I love you. I love to see you in nice things. When I spoil you, I feel happy. Is that so bad?”

“No. No. I won’t buy the car. I’ll start having lessons, at least,” she said.

“I can teach you,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said, and then sat back and watched the news with Chamu. She fell asleep on the sofa and woke up as he carried her to bed. She gasped.

“What are you doing?”

“Putting you to bed,” he responded, his face close to hers. She panicked when he kissed her lips and fought to get free.

“I’m not going to do anything,” Chamu said, laying her on top of the bed. He looked down at her form, sprawled on the white duvet. It took all his strength not to drop down on top of her. He moved back and smiled at her. She looked at him, the fear slowly fading from her eyes.

“You are not ready to sleep with me yet?”

“After we get married. I should never have slept with anyone before marriage. That is how I ended up in this mess,” Priscilla said, sitting up. “I’m sorry, Chamu.”

“It’s all right, my love. At least you know I’m not marrying you just for your body,” he said with a chuckle. Priscilla smiled nervously.

“You are kind and wonderful. Why have I been so lucky?”

“I am the lucky one, Pri. You have made me the happiest man on Earth.”

“I better sleep. I’m tired,” Priscilla said. Chamu felt her dismissal like a slap, but straightened and walked to the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. “We can go and look at the venue for the wedding.”

“Tomorrow then. Good night,” she said.

After he was gone, Priscilla went to lock the door. She stood in the living room for a while, holding her belly, gently stroking it. She wasn’t ready to make love to another man yet. How long would Chamu be patient with her?