Chapter 25

Rufu—Death

The following night the phone rang. Chamu picked it up after glancing at the clock. It was 2:15 a.m. He listened to the message while Priscilla sat up groggily next to him. He put the phone down and turned on the light.

“Who was that?”

“Vimbai’s husband is dead. Gilbert died a few hours ago,” Chamu said.

Priscilla whimpered and started crying.

Chamu took her into his arms, rocking her as she sobbed. She had just seen him and even though he had been a mean bastard, the news still hurt.

* * *

“It was AIDS, Priscilla,” Vimbai said a few weeks after Gilbert’s funeral in Gokwe. The village where Gilbert was buried was far from civilization and Priscilla had spent three difficult days living in a hut, bathing in the river and cooking food by fire. On top of that, the nights were dedicated to singing so Gilbert’s spirit could go away cheerfully. Her head throbbed most of the time from the constant drumbeat and the loud mourning of Gilbert’s family. Gilbert was still very young, and, though mean to Vimbai, was dearly loved by many.

“What?” Priscilla felt the world spin right before her eyes at the deadly word. AIDS.

“I was tested, and I’m HIV positive, too,” Vimbai added.

Priscilla stared at her sister as if she was already dead, wanting her to take back the words she had just uttered. Priscilla started weeping, hiding her face in her hands as if she could run away from Vimbai’s deadly words.

After what seemed like hours, they talked, sitting in the bedroom that Vimbai once shared with Gilbert and his girlfriends. Priscilla had come to Gweru to talk to Vimbai about her children and her future, but it seemed like her sister didn’t have much of a future anymore. Life was so unfair!

“I’ve been going for counselling. I have to eat healthy. There are drugs I can take and ways I can make sure I have a longer life.”

“I just don’t believe it. That bastard gave it to you,” Priscilla said.

“He was a fool. Men always tell each other that they can’t get it.”

“Why didn’t he tell you?” Priscilla’s voice shook with anger. She wanted to ask Vimbai why she had stayed with him for so long, but didn’t. She recalled Vimbai telling her that Gilbert had not wanted to marry her, but in the beginning it wasn’t so bad. When they lost their first child to malaria, it had brought them closer together. They had grieved together, but by the death of the second child he began to change. He blamed her for losing their children. As the years went on, he got worse and worse.

“I don’t think he ever got tested until the very end. I’m telling you this because you never know who has it. I’m going to let the family know, but I wanted to tell you first, baby sister.”

“I don’t want to believe it. You must get a second opinion, get another test,” Priscilla insisted.

“It’s true,” Vimbai said, blinking back tears. “I have accepted it. I now have to make plans for my children.”

“You’ll live long. They don’t have it, do they?”

Vimbai took Priscilla’s hands into her own and squeezed them.

“No. Thank God. Thank God.”

AIDS. It was something that had crept onto the nation’s radar. First, it had been smoke in the distance. Now it was a blazing fire threatening to destroy all that were dear to her.