November 2000

Martin

THE O-LEVEL EXAMS STARTED IN mid-October. Each test lasted three hours, and I signed up for nine. They were scheduled every few days and I felt like a marathon runner. I was careful to rest up in between, and stay focused. The last one took place at the end of November. I had to do well. Not just for me and my family, but also for Caitlin and hers. I wouldn’t have been able to even take the exams without their support. I wanted to prove to them that I was worthy. My future depended on them in more ways than I could fathom. I wanted to do something to repay them this enormous kindness and decided to send them more photos—not just of me but of my whole family.

We used some money that Caitlin’s mom had sent to hire Mr. Masamba, the same photographer who had taken the other two shots of me. We weren’t yet dressed for the occasion when he arrived with his camera, as everyone wanted to wear something that Caitlin had sent. While my parents changed inside our house, I stood outside with Simba and Lois, waiting to do the same.

“Say cheese!” Mr. Masamba said. I thought he was joking, until I heard the click.

My father had paid for four photos. Mr. Masamba knew we were sending these photos to America and promised to make sure they were extra professional. Still, I asked him to wait before he took any more—Simba was wearing the track pants Caitlin had sent, but with his own worn-out vest and nothing else underneath. I wanted him in a proper polo shirt. And Lois was wearing an old shirt that had been passed on from me to Simba to her. It was so thin in places, you could see her skin. We saved Caitlin’s clothes for special occasions, like this.

“Hurry, go change,” I told them after that first shot was taken.

They went inside, and I followed. Soon, we were all outfitted in our American clothes: My father and I wore white matching polo shirts. Nation chose a bright yellow parka, and my mother put on a bright red skirt and a navy-blue rugby shirt. She dressed George in the smallest T-shirt sent, and Lois in another white polo shirt that fit more like a dress. Mr. Masamba asked us all to gather together on the bed so we could fit in one frame.

I sat between my mother and father, and Nation stood off to the left. George sat in my mother’s lap, and Lois and Simba leaned up against my legs.

“Say hallo!” Mr. Masamba said as he snapped a photo. I smiled wide and hoped everyone else remembered to as well.

I suggested the third shot be of me and Nation, since they often asked about him.

“Baba, Mai,” I said. “Let’s have the last one be your portrait.”

My father eagerly hopped on the bed, and my mother sat next to him. George climbed in the spot between them just as Mr. Masamba started counting, “One, two, three…” My father smiled broadly while Mother remained very still and serious. George started to cry—and I hoped that wasn’t captured on film.

Mr. Masamba returned with the photos a few days later. As I flipped through each, I thought, No more hiding. Caitlin would now really see in these shots how we truly lived. I could soften our poverty with my words, and dress it up in her clothes, but these images told the truth. I prayed that she could handle it.

November 2000

Dear Caitlin.

Hallo. How is everybody over there? How is school? We are all fine here in Zimbabwe.

We finally managed to get ourselves photographed. The photos were taken in our one-room house. I hope you are going to like the photos. This is my whole family including my big brother Nation, whom you were fond of!

I am still writing my O-level exams and am going to finish on the 21st of November. From there I will be on a school holiday till early February 2001. And then I will proceed to advanced level education. If I pass, I will go to university maybe in the US!

I would like to thank you very much for the ample support you have and you are supplying to me and my family.

God bless you.

Yours,

Martin Ganda.

I looked at the photos again and felt compelled to explain them, so I added a PS:

Do not get confused by our house. The photos were taken when we were sitting on the bed where my mom and dad sleep. This can confuse you while comparing it with how you live in the US. Below the bed are some of the utensils we use. At night, we remove these and squeeze ourselves under the bed and sleep. I know this can make you doubt, but now you understand how we live. I love that, your understanding.