(This is the beginning of something I been thinking of. Would be great to some feedback. ie COMMENTS. negative and positive are welcome.)
It is the devil’s work, mother had said. That was her mother’s response to every problem. She was always telling her of the latest congregant whose life Pastor Joshua had touched. The last time the testimony had been about Chiedza, a girl Rudo had gone to high school with.
“It’s only been a year since Pastor Joshua prayed for her, and she’s already getting married to that nice young man who sings lead for the church choir.”
Rudo had wondered if anyone had actually seen the august Pastor strike the two lovebirds with arrows borrowed from Cupid himself. But she kept such thoughts to herself. A comment like that would send her mother on a tirade.
“That is your problem, Rudo” she would say.” You have no faith at all. If only you would have a little faith. “
Frankly, Rudo had run out of faith. Maybe it was when she turned thirty. Something about the age of thirty changed everything.
At twenty-five, relatives pressed her about when she would bring a “friend” home. At twenty-five, marriage was a new discovery among friends. Every two months or so, she would get an invite from an old high school friend or hear of someone from her law class whose boyfriend had just paid lobola. Everyone was getting married but you weren’t an outcast if Fate had dictated that it simply wasn’t your time yet.
But at thirty? The relatives turned pesky. They said things that Rudo already knew, like “There is more to life than those books of yours mwanangu.” And when they picked the annoyance from her now standard reply, ‘In God’s time” they simply turned among themselves and whispered about witchcraft. Once in a while, from one of the more daring and traditional aunts, Rudo would hear talk of consulting with one n’anga who was “well versed in such issues”. But witch-doctors always conjured up the image of misspelt newspaper ads promising answers to the impossible such as HIV, unemployment and the like.
With thirty, old friends began to treat you as if you were leperous. They introduced you to their fat and socially awkward cousins who had obviously gone through a boys’ school and had thereby missed any chance at ever entering society normally. They introduced you to these cousins and to their guy friends –the ones whom you always suspected batted for the other side- but kept you away from their husbands. As if Rudo had the luxury to chase after married men…