NYU Black Renaissance Noire Winter/Spring 2012 | Page 10

FOR CHATA VERY FEW

“Chata likes only himself,” said Marubini.
“And what does he know of children
when he has none?”
That was the refrain in the town:
Chata likes himself. But unlike Marubini,
the women of the town meant it as a
compliment. The expression was used
for those who were tidy and clean.
“I heard that,” said Chata. “I would
have as many children as the stars
in the sky if you were to marry me.”
Then he broke out laughing. The two
girls laughed as well, but Marubini
was infuriated.
“I told you he likes you,” said Danai.
“He likes stars too,” said Chido.
“To him everything is like stars.”
“He’s a silly man,” said Marubini.
“He thinks he’s the joker of the town.
More like the idiot of the town really.”

8

“Can we see your mirror, Chata?” asked
Chido after coming to the conclusion
that Marubini had no intention of
making that request.

“Of course,” said Chata. “Come and look.”
“You know how the women will gossip
that we were seen going to a man’s
house,” said Marubini, trying to stop
her friends.
But for the two girls the allure of the
mirror was too strong. They placed their
balls of clay on the grass next to the
footpath and tiptoed to the veranda as
if that would shield them from the
busy-bodies of Mapungubwe. Chata let
them look at themselves while he held
the mirror. He dared not give it to
them lest they dropped it and it broke.
Where would he get another mirror if
that were to happen? Marubini stood
on the road for a while, but when she
saw how her friends were enjoying
themselves giggling at their images, she
warily walked to the veranda and took
a peek at her image. Pride swelled in
Chata’s bare chest. It heaved excitedly,
but the girls were not paying attention
to its rippling muscles or its hairs
that looked like grains of black corn
scattered on its surface. They were
enthralled by their own images and
made silly faces and laughed joyfully.
Truly, a mirror was the bringer of
happiness.

things were as satisfying as the
gazes of the townsfolk—especially
womenfolk—as he weaved his
way through the town. His gait was
unhurried and confident; he waved at
a group of women here and whistled
a greeting at a young man there.
He passed a compliment to a satisfied
elderly man about the rich sorghum
harvest piled on the threshing floor
in front of his house. In turn, two
grandmothers basking in the sun outside
a neighbouring house complimented
him on his attire. Younger women
would not dare pass such compliments
directly to a man lest they be considered
flirtatious, or even loose. Three nubile
girls whispered and giggled their
admiration among themselves. But one
of them was sane enough to bring
her peers back to reality by observing,
“Who would want to be Chata’s
wife anyway? He loves only himself.”
The second one concurred, “Why else
would he still be unmarried at his age?”
The third one added a new dimension
to his faults, “In any case, he is born
of the Vhasarwa people. Who wants to
be a daughter-in-law of the Vhasarwa?”
But they all agreed that even th