It's 3 am and I'm still wide awake as though I've just woken up from deep sleep. I'm wide awake, but my body is weighing heavily on me as though my problems have morphed into a physical bolder and have been set on top of my shoulders. The rooster crows, and I become awakened to the reality that yet another night has passed by without me getting any rest. I smile as I become conscious of the sound of Fandi snoring, she turns to face me, completely oblivious of the turmoil within her mother. I wish I could stay in bed a little longer to try to fight this insomnia but once the rooster crows I have no choice but to get up and start preparing for the day. I reach into my bag for painkillers, I rummage through empty packs of sleeping pills until I find the last Pain-Eaze capsule; I make a mental note to buy more, heaven knows I can't survive 4 hours without them. I may need to get stronger painkillers, this migraine seems to have developed some sort of resistance to Pain-Eaze.
 
I drag myself to the kitchen which is really a few steps away from my bedroom with only a curtain dividing the two. We haven't had electricity for over a month now, the copper cables were stolen and the Chilandu Electricity Commission (CEC) is doing what it does best - casting a blind eye. There's no water today, our extension only receives city council water on Wednesdays and today is a Monday, and the 2-liter juice bottles under the sink which I had filled up with water are almost completely used up. I pick up two bottles and fill up a pot and place it on the gas stove. I grab a box of matches on top of the electric stove which we're now using as a table since it's no longer in use.
 
I head out to start sweeping the yard of the commune; I'm the one on duty today. I'm allergic to dust so I immediately start sneezing, the face mask I have on really isn't being of much help. A sharp pain hits my heart as it dawns on me yet again, I'm alone... He's gone. You see, I have gotten somewhat better now at shelving my thoughts of him, but when I suddenly think of him my heart pounds heavily. I clasp my chest as I gasp for air, this time it’s not the dust that's suffocating my lungs; it's the pain.
 
Small things trigger my memories of him, just like now it is my sneezing that shot me back into the happiest years of my life. Manny, my husband of 13 years, never used to let me sweep the yard because of my allergies. I always insisted on doing it because the whole neighborhood used to gossip that I had bewitched him because no man in his right mind would do such a thing. The neighborhood where we used to live wasn't fancy; the houses were clumped together with only rusting fences dividing them. Yet it was our home, we owned it, and it was far better than where Fandi and I are now living.
 
He would finish sweeping the yard and call me out just to lift me up and laugh saying "I've finished sweeping the yard madam, your love portion has worked yet again!"
 
He would then throw his head back laughing at this routine joke like a little kid. I didn't quite find it amusing, I felt that despite him trying to show our neighbors that he didn't care that they thought he was bewitched; those fools were too illiterate to understand that he was being sarcastic and would end up using it as more evidence for their claims.
 
I drop my broom and sit right there in the middle of the commune as I relive those memories. Oh, how I miss him. I start smiling as I remember that he was always slow so would finish sweeping our small yard at 6am despite having started at 5.30am. At the time I would get angry because we'd end up being late, but deep down I was always amused at the sight of him dancing and singing along to a tune that only he could hear for almost 10 minutes before remembering that he was sweeping and get back to it. I remember the arguments we'd have over it and how he would always end up saying "My Ni, you have to always be attentive to hear the tune that lies within, the answers to everything are found in it, " he would smile then tickle me. Oh I couldn't resist him, his laugh was contagious he'd laugh so hard as though he was the one being tickled. I later discovered that I'm actually not ticklish, I simply laughed because his laugh forced me to.
 
As always, the good memories force me to stare at the truth that this wouldn't be a memory if they hadn't taken him away from me. Manny is gone, it's been six years and I still have no answers. My brain freezes and my chest becomes numb as tears trickle down my face. It takes a moment before I realize that someone is helping me up, I open my eyes and see that it is my sister Uwani. She is my husband's best friend's wife; they have become more like family. We all lived in a better place in town before we moved here, even though we moved because of different reasons which had one thing in common: money.
 
After Manny's disappearance, his family wasted no time in making sure that Fandi and I left the home that Manny and I had created for ourselves. As I mentioned earlier, the whole community had concluded that I was a witch all because of the love that man had for me, so when he disappeared they convinced his family that it was my doing. Well, to be fair the family really didn't need much convincing, they already didn't like me as I am a foreigner. To top it off, I gave birth to a daughter instead of a son in a family where generations have passed without the birth of a female, and Fandi just had to take my complexion instead of her father's. See, I am dark-skinned, and so is she; Manny on the other hand was extremely light. I break down at the sound of my thoughts, for the first time since he went missing six years ago; I have just spoken about Manny as though he is dead. I used past tense! My sobs give way to uncontrollable howling as I feel as though I have betrayed him. Everyone else seems to have moved on and concluded that he is dead, I'm forever his Ni, and I can't afford to forget him too.
 
Life in the commune hasn't been rosy, but it has been enough for me to get by and take care of our daughter with the little I earn. We moved here in December 2015, a few months after his disappearance. We would have left our home sooner if I hadn't tried to fight for my daughter's right to her father's house. It was in vain, the family denounced her as their own. I left with our bed, stove, clothes and a box full of Manny's clothes and belongings. I took all that I could.
Uwani and her husband Tongai who is a refugee from Zimbabwe, moved to the commune in 2020 during the first lockdown. Tongai had contemplated returning home to Zimbabwe since all was lost for them after he had been retrenched from work due to the economic crisis. He had figured that since the former president Mugabe from whom he had been running had died it was now safe to return. A sudden lead in Manny's case held him back, he couldn't leave without doing all he could to follow that lead and find him. Tongai and Strongman were an inseparable duo; I know that his disappearance affected Tongai badly as he has now resorted to alcohol. He isn't violent when he's drunk, however, he cries a lot instead. I guess alcohol helps him do what he fails to do when he's sober. I don't blame him; I too would appreciate a temporary escape…
***
Monday the 9th of March 2015, I remember it as if it was just yesterday. I had slept in; my Manny had decided that he was going to take care of everything since I had barely slept a wink because of Fandi. She never used to cry much prior to this except if she was badly injured, yet that particular night she had been crying the whole night and I didn’t know what was wrong with her, nothing could appease her either. He too had tried to get her to sleep but had to retire earlier than I did because he had an important day ahead.
 
I remember laying in bed and feeling really puzzled and somewhat alarmed when he swept the yard in less than 10 minutes and without singing or dancing at all. Something was off and I could feel it but I just could not put my finger on it. He took his baby and bathed her, all the while without singing. In fact, he did not tell his routine jokes to Fandi as he normally does during bath time.
 
He said to her as he was styling her hair into pig tails, “I love you Fandi, always and forever baby girl. You want to know why I named you Fandi? It’s because you are my only one.”
 
I walked out of our bedroom into Fandi’s room where the duo was and stood by the door and smiled. He looked up at me and with his hand he signaled for me to come. I walked up to the bed and was greeted with warm kiss on my lips. He pinched my bum as he always did making sure Fandi noticed it; she always found it funny. She threw her head back laughing just like her father did and I joined too in the laughter as I basked in the sight of my two kids savoring the moment. Manny had always joked that he was my firstborn, because of the two of us he is the one who was more of a child at heart, and no wonder Fandi was so fond of him. She was also exactly like him in personality, despite being a physical photocopy of me.
 
A while later I caught him starring outside the window in deep thought. I walked up to him and hugged him from behind and followed his gaze. There was a white pick-up truck across the road, alarm bells rang in my mind as I recalled that I had seen this same truck two days ago circling the neighborhood and also when I picked up Fandi from her play date at Tongai’s house the previous day.
 
Without turning to look at me he said, “Yes Ni, it’s the boys; they are doing some surveillance. Today has been worse than the past few days; they have not moved an inch. Don’t worry; I’ll never let anything bad happen to my two favorite girls.”
 
He thought he kept his promise but he forgot one thing: he is the best thing that had ever happened to us, and losing him was the worst thing. He told me to prepare breakfast, and swore that he won’t spend much time at the barber discussing politics and the state of affairs in our nation as he normally did. I don’t remember what my last words to him were, it’s pretty vague now but I remember him walking out of our home as he headed to the barber. He walked out of our home wearing a red Manchester United replica jersey with black shorts and sandals singing his favorite praise song – Alpha and Omega.
 
I had waited for him and I remember vividly how frustrated I was that he hadn’t come home for over an hour. I had paced in the living room as I rehearsed what I would say to him the moment he appeared at the gate. I then heard a knock and it was Uwani, when she spoke my whole life shattered instantly
 
“Niamo, they have taken Fandi’s father. Your husband was bundled and put in the back of a white pick-up with no number plates. The state secret police first accused him of stealing livestock and arrested him!”
 
Just like that, Manny became a memory. They had taken him away from me. I always knew that his activism was a dangerous game, but I had not imagined that it would get to this. I did warn him, I had pleaded with him not to go to the President Muwanijuki to render the petition requesting him to resign. That had been the last straw for the ruling junta. You see, my husband always stood for the truth. He had bravely started a movement anchored on getting Muwanijuki to resign. No one else had dared to openly oppose him; however my Manny was not like everyone else. He was fearless and resilient.
 
I remember how news of him instantly spread far and wide. They labeled him ‘the dreamer we lack’, well; my husband is lost to me because of the cause. Six years later, I have no answers, just clues and endless dead-ends. Strongman Diale, the dreamer they lack, the dreamer I choose not to forget. Manny, my forgotten dreamer…

My Forgotten Dreamer

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