Lost in Love

LOST IN LOVE

LOST IN LOVE

The Elephant and the Giant

Willard Simukali

Copyright © 2017 Willard Simukali

First edition 2017

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval system without permission from the copyright holder.

The Author has made every effort to trace and acknowledge sources/resources/individuals. In the event that any images/information have been incorrectly attributed or credited, the Author will be pleased to rectify these omissions at the earliest opportunity.

Published by the Author using Reach Publishers’ services,

P O Box 1384, Wandsbeck, South Africa, 3631

Edited by Vanessa Finaughty for Reach Publishers

Cover designed by Reach Publishers

Website: www.reachpublishers.co.za

E-mail: reach@webstorm.co.za

To:

Ginelly Munchindu

Vuuka Namasasi

Milimo Rudo

Munkombwe Mutinta

For putting up with many inconveniences.

Courtesy to Brighton Mwendabai for the N’cwala photos!

Content

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

1

The Elephant’s Silent Walk

Munukayumbwa loved to walk. He walked the friendly roads of Chipata slowly, but firmly. Many agreed that his was like the silent walk of an elephant on its way to some faraway place. It was like the walk of one whose mission was long and, therefore, whose walk reflected a typically contemplative and patient personality, enough to accommodate the heavy and uncertain demands of any long journey. It was said that his walk reminded of the careful march of the intelligent and discreet elephant. It was claimed that the elephant was always abounding in sensibility. Its slow movement compensated for its poor vision. Like the elephant on a seemingly long, quiet journey, Munukayumbwa could not be dissuaded from his quest to be of service to anyone who came his way.

Manly, mature and well-mannered, he had that magnetic human pull that knew no distance and no borders. His gentle but enchanting smile was very re-assuring. Thus, rich in beauty, decorum and common sense, he was so obliging and up-lifting, able to draw the attention and admiration of many. He also had the natural ability to find the common bond that held and brought different people together. He yielded so much hope in others. That way, he would no doubt easily capture the lonely feminine spirit.

His appearance also brought hope to many empty souls in need of in-depth communication. He easily touched the hearts of the people he came into contact with. Keen to listen and hear, he was ready to offer his help and advice, even at short notice. It was in him to be inquisitive, in a way, and ready to render altruistic service to others. He radiated rare human warmth to his family, community and workmates. He was simply there for them, always endeavouring to find a solution to their varied problems without number. He was definitely not the solution to all their problems, but he was always there for them in their various situations of need.

To a good number of people, including Ndabile, his wife-to-be, Munukayumbwa was lovingly seen to be as good as an elephant in his character. The day the huge elephant walked into the yard of our house to ask for my hand in marriage! Ndabile mused. I was challenged to meet him face-to-face, for our great purpose. That was my greatest day. He had come walking with his usual slow, but sure pace of an elephant to meet me. I was still very young and inexperienced; I got so scared, not being sure of myself. Yet I was anxious at the same time to meet him and to hear his voice. My aunt, Tongase, almost manhandled me as she quickly led me to the kitchen. He had such a beautiful, soft and re-assuring voice, this strange, huge elephant of mine, and there I was for a while like someone running away from his presence. I would have loved to observe his typical quiet elephant walk a little longer, but was not allowed at that moment.

Men and some women from the Western Province of Zambia could be very tall. As tall as a tree, some said jokingly. Munukayumbwa was reasonably tall. He just had this style of walking slowly and feeling very confident about himself and his surroundings. He was very handsome. Such beauty should have been reserved for a woman and not wasted on a man who could scarcely appreciate it, thought many a woman. Walking at a pace that reminded one of an elephant in slow march, Munukayumbwa would never pass by someone he knew without stopping to greet him or her, just to shake hands. Shaking hands was a great mark of civil society, he always maintained. He was almost everywhere recognised as that handsome, but humble, friendly and approachable young man. Ndabile must indeed be lucky to be engaged to such a lovely young man.

A very kind and most agreeable young man, Munukayumbwa always brushed aside any stress on himself by saying, "Akuna butata." Every apology for any inconvenience would be met by that statement. By that, he meant ‘there is no problem’. Even many who did not know him for long quickly noticed how he was more concerned about other people than he was about himself. To many people, he came to be fondly referred to as Mr AB, a good person with whom to start the day or do business. AB was the abbreviation for akuna butata. It marked him as a most approachable person. He endeavoured to do things with a ‘human face’.

* * *

It was not really Ndabile’s idea to refer to Munukayumbwa as the elephant. It was like a coincidence. To the north-west of Chipata was the Lower Luangwa National Park, sanctuary to many wild animals, including elephants. There were also impalas, lions, hyenas, buffalos, hippos, rhinos and many others, but the elephant was the biggest animal found there. Many people attached great importance to it. Many beautiful and exciting stories were told about elephants and the challenge of hunting them. The elephant was thus a great trophy and to kill one was like winning a great prize. However, Ndabile never thought of an elephant in those terms. To reduce them to mere objects of abuse and destruction was not in her thoughts. No, by ‘elephant’, she meant to refer to Munukayumbwa as her priceless love and husband-to-be, a man with such great love, which she could not find a better way to describe.

Munukayumbwa was the first man to come into her life and she adored him for his love; love as great as an elephant. What better description could she have than that?

"Wagwira iwe!" some of Ndabile’s unmarried friends shouted from a distance each time they saw her strolling with Munukayumbwa on the quiet but friendly streets of Chipata.

Expressing it that way, it gave the impression of someone having made some rare, but exciting big catch. They meant she had found some very worthwhile suitor. Deep down in their hearts, however, many actually envied her and she knew it. It was not so much Munukayumbwa’s natural physical good looks that moved Ndabile as his warmth, gentleness, kindness and great concern for her. Here was an intelligent, but simple and well-behaved young man she would love for the rest of her life. Well behaved? Ndabile stopped to wonder for a moment.

It was not normal to speak of men as being well behaved, as being nice and kind. If a woman ever thought like that about her husband or husband-to-be, she kept it as her own personal and closely guarded secret, nothing to openly brag about. Men could be such mambalas, picking up the courage anytime to do what appeared good to them. They could only be judges of themselves. Who could judge them in their own house or in their nature and make a binding verdict?

However, what was wrong with that? A spade was a spade and would remain as such. Yes, but men were men, not spades. Spades were tools to be used. Men could not be used like spades. Ah, these men, often so devoid of patience and so unpredictable! Which woman could claim to understand them?

Ndabile wondered for a moment why she thought like that. However, she still had to face the fact that men were often their mothers’ and sisters’ darlings. Where men should indeed have changed long ago, enough to be better husbands and maybe better fathers too, it was fellow women who over-esteemed them to the point that they saw nothing wrong with themselves. Still, as young and inexperienced as Ndabile was, she knew very well that the quickest way to pick a quarrel with one’s mother-in-law was to curse her son in her hearing. As far as she knew, a mother understood her son as the stronger part of herself, the future and strength of her house, her own pride. A mother was apt to criticise the young women of nowadays whom she accused of being so quarrelsome, and irredeemably ungrateful: selfish! She would scarcely see anything wrong with her own son, child of her own bowels.

Yes, deep down in her heart, Ndabile was afraid. The thought of losing Munukayumbwa was frightening. What if Munukayumbwa suddenly changed his mind? Her mother had of late been complaining of Father’s changed behaviour towards her. That after more than thirty years of marriage! He was spending less time with her. He often came home late and drunk and often forgot to eat his food. He often gave excuses that, as the former equivalent of District Commissioner for Chipata District, he had the obligation to attend to organisational meetings of the ruling political United National Independence Party (UNIP). Such meetings might require him to work until late in the evening. He had fought hard as a young man along with the crop of notable freedom fighters to see Zambia liberated from colonial rule. It still demanded total commitment from all patriots worth their salt.

It was well over twenty years since independence now. Father and Mother had always stuck together until of late. Before that, Ndabile had never heard her mother complain about being neglected by her father. The two had cooperated to establish and run businesses together and had three farms and five big houses among their many possessions.

Ndabile had heard many women who hated to have rich men for husbands. They claimed that riches were a curse to any good marriage. Riches were enemies of marriage, because they often had the effect of destabilising it when men took to drunkenness and womanising. As the saying went, too much of anything was bad. Would Munukayumbwa suddenly change his good feelings towards her if he got rich, she wondered? If that happened, it would be the most terrible thing to experience. Men could be such reckless, irresponsible creatures! The worst thing about men was the fear of having to live and put up with them. They often amounted to a necessary evil, though, if such a term ever existed.

Of course the womenfolk of Chipata had their own problems too. They had so much to mourn, which could make some of them unbearable at times. It was a fact that many middle-aged women were often prematurely widowed. They were often left alone to mourn their dead family members. Maybe that was the major reason behind much of the trouble: they had been left to do so many things all by themselves. Why had their husbands died in middle age and left them alone? They were alone to mourn their many loved ones who had died, including a good number of children who had prematurely succumbed to HIV/AIDS. There was no end to mourning, it seemed. Not forgetting, others mourned the usual problem of men’s love getting cold as the years went by. Those were the same lucky few who had not been widowed. They now wished for some magic torch to rekindle their old lost fires of love.

No doubt the affluent had successfully worked their way through life. It was time for a little respite. The emergence of affluence such as that which Zindaba and her husband were enjoying had its own untold story. There was ever-boring comfort and much physical inactivity. A definite trend towards over-weight had been set, often associated with frequent thermal build-ups, excessive flow of digestive juices where nutritional discipline was often hard to effectively exercise, and this persistent burning sensation in the chest. Zindaba was certainly a victim of that. Who knew how to describe such discomfort behind the so-called comfort? Which normal middle aged person would ever think of going jogging now? No, that was now long behind them; it belonged to their once ‘bloom of life’ over which they could only make faint recollections.

It could be very hot in Chipata especially towards the end of the year. Undetected loss of moisture from the body was high in the long, dry season of this subtropical climate. It had therefore become a preferred lifestyle for those few who could afford it, to frequently rest before the fan. Alternatively, one took a little glass of cold water from the fridge and leisurely sipped it. All those were marks of affluence. They had also come to be increasingly associated with consumption of a more refined type of maize meal flour branded Breakfast Meal. It was poor in raw fibre content and slowed bowel movement. The Eastern Province of Zambia had its own slightly fermented traditional brand of refined maize meal flower known as ufa. Unlike the simple relish high in raw fibre often consumed with the thick porridge prepared from ufa by the average local family, the relish served at the table of the affluent made increased intakes of salt and fats inevitable.

Inactivity made for enough time to partake in a little gossip, now and then. The consumption of refined maize flour further slowed the passage of food and waste down below the stomach. Build-up of toxic waste matter could not be avoided. Consumption of fresh, raw