Chapter 5

Koromoka—Fall Down

Unashe heard the loud bang outside his window. He cocked his head to the side, wondering what the sound could be. The air was damp from the drizzle outside and he wondered if what he heard was lightning and thunder. He heard the sound again, and this time it sounded unmistakably like somebody was hitting the thick metal gate with something hard. Heart racing, Unashe put on a shirt and picked up the umbrella he had put by his door when he left the main house to come and sleep at the cottage, alone like an independent man. He had to check what the problem was. He was the only man of the house and it was up to him to protect his mother, who slept peacefully in the main house.

Checking the clock, which showed 12:07 a.m., he heard the loud sound again and this time he opened the door and picked up a huge brick by the side of the house. If a thief was trying to break in, he would be in for a thrashing. Unashe recalled hearing about the burglaries in various homes in the neighborhood as he walked slowly towards the gate, avoiding the wet puddles and mud. He heard the sound again as he got closer, but it sounded weaker this time. He heard a sound like a woman sobbing, and threw the brick down and inched closer to the gate.

When he opened the peephole, he nearly died of shock. It was Priscilla, and she was soaked from head to toe.

She practically fell into his arms.

“What happened?” he asked looking around to see if she had come with anybody else. All he saw was an empty street lighted by one single bulb on a high pole.

“It’s crazy,” Priscilla said, breathing hard. He could feel her heart beat fast beneath his arm. “You won’t believe what happened.” Priscilla’s mind went back a few hours before she found herself outside Unashe’s house.

* * *

Monica Pasipano cooked supper as her husband read the paper in the sitting room. Her lovely face looked peaceful and serene as she stirred the pot, but she was actually worried about Priscilla, who wasn’t home yet. She heard the rattle of the gate. She wanted to run and check but she decided not to as Oliver would think she was worried and then become upset with Priscilla. Oliver had changed since the old days, but some old habits were hard to lose. One was his attitude towards Priscilla. She walked in and greeted her father as Monica listened from the kitchen.

“Good evening, Baba,” Priscilla greeted Oliver.

“Good evening,” he replied in a gruff voice. The living room was small but had all the necessary furniture, a four piece sofa set, TV and a framed photograph of the family on the wall. Priscilla wasn’t in the particular portrait, as she wasn’t born yet. It had her three sisters, mother, and father. Actually, there were no pictures of her on the walls. Now it all made sense to her.

She walked into the kitchen feeling the walls closing in on her. Unashe had dropped her off and left. He didn’t get along with her father. Not many people liked Oliver. He would have lectured Unashe on his lack of employment.

“Good evening, Mama,” Priscilla greeted her mother.

“Good evening. You are quite late. Were you still at work?” Monica asked as she busily wiped the stove. Priscilla watched her mother’s movements. The stove was already spotless, but Monica wanted it to shine.

“Yes,” Priscilla lied, but she didn’t want to explain her whereabouts. At least not yet. Maybe after supper when she was sure she would be leaving this house for good in the morning she would explain where she’d been. She was so glad about how easy it would all be. The agent had told her she could move into her flat anytime after signing the lease agreement, and she paid the deposit and first month’s rent. Normally half her income went to her father, but now she would be using it for her own place.

“You work too hard,” her mother said.

Priscilla nodded and then sat on the kitchen chairs.

“Do you want help with anything?” she asked.

“No, my dear. You can go and change if you like,”

Priscilla walked into her bedroom and took off her earrings and work clothes. She put on her home dress and sat on her narrow bed. Her bedroom was very simple, with a dresser in one corner and a fitted wardrobe against one wall. The curtains were white with blue flowers and would not have been her choice at all. She couldn’t live here anymore.

She didn’t even feel like she belonged there. She left her bedroom and walked down the narrow passage and took water to the lounge for her father to wash his hands. He wore his shirtsleeves rolled up and had on grey trousers. Oliver was a dark man with a small beard on his chin. Though not very tall, he appeared so because he had a lean body. He had always worked as a labourer. Oliver had worked his way up to supervisor in the tire factory. His hands were rough and dark from operating the tough machines and handling tires and rubber. He washed his hands with the usual grim expression he reserved for her and his subordinates at work.

Oliver nodded to show he was finished, and Priscilla walked back to the kitchen to get the food. Her mother walked in with her plate also and they sat down to eat. Priscilla forced her food down, but all she wanted to do was throw up as she watched her parents. This man sitting next to her mother was not her father, and he hated her for it. How dare he? She couldn’t stand to look at him, and she wondered how she was going to spend one more night at that house.

Chewing silently, she looked at her plate of food. She couldn’t be in his presence any longer so she took her plate to the kitchen and stood there against the counter for a while trying to still her breathing.

“Are you okay?’ Monica asked as she walked into the kitchen.

Priscilla shook her head. “No. I’m very tired.”

“Take the beer to your father.”

Priscilla walked with the big glass of Lion Lagar, his favorite, and put it in front of Oliver. She sat on a sofa. When her mother walked in she decided to tell them her plans.

“I have something to tell you,” Priscilla said, looking down. Monica looked very worried as she watched her husband’s expression.

“Now?” Monica asked, her eyes pleaded with her not to say anything.

“Yes,” Priscilla said.

“What is it?” Oliver asked as he focused his gaze on Priscilla and smirked.

“I have found a flat and I want to move into it tomorrow,” Priscilla said, though inside she felt terrified.

“What the hell?” Oliver shouted, standing up and putting the glass down so roughly the liquid splashed on the wooden table.

“Priscilla?” her mother questioned, but her eyes begged her to keep quiet.

“Yes. I would like to move out tomorrow.”

“You slut! You want to go and live alone?”

“Yes. I think it’s best.” Priscilla shook from the way he called her a slut. It cut her down to the bone.

“How dare you sit there and tell me this in my own house. Get out now!”

“No!” Monica cried, standing up. Priscilla stood up, too.

“I’m going. I’ll get my things.” Priscilla’s voice trembled.

“You go now.” Oliver pushed her so roughly she hit the chair with her leg and cried out in pain. “Out now!” Oliver pulled the door open and pushed her outside, where she fell on the wet ground.

“I never want to see you again. You are no child of mine!”

Priscilla stood up on the lawn. Tears were pouring out of her eyes as she watched her mother crying and the angry expression on Oliver’s face.

“I know.” Priscilla mumbled and turned away. Oliver stood there, stunned, like a startled lizard.