I had no lunch to eat at break, so I just drank water while the other pupils were digging through their lunchboxes. There was a dog at school that always came to a tree where I sat at break.

“Hi, my friend, I should give you a name,” I spoke to the dog. It licked my fingers and my hands. “Should I call you Spoky?” I asked, smiling. It licked my hand again. I began to touch its back. That dog may have been the only thing close to me.

“I want to make my parents happy by passing,” I spoke to it and it looked at me as if it heard what I said. Spoky began to bark and the bell rang. “Thanks for the heads up, Spoky,” I touched its ears and left. Spoky continued to bark. I looked back and waved my hand. It stopped barking.

I entered the classroom and sat at my usual desk. Papers were circulating around us. Mr Darryn told us to begin writing. It was a two-hour paper. I took my pencil and ruler and began to write. Vimbai kept blowing to where I sat.

“What’s that? Vimbai, write your paper quietly or I will confiscate it,” he said loudly.

Vimbai was used to asking for answers, but Mr Darryn wouldn’t allow it.

After school I rushed home, because I had to do the dishes. Aunt Lucy spent the whole day with other women, baking cakes and scones. I would find the kitchen messy.

“Clean the kitchen, Laurie,” Aunt Lucy said.

She sat on the couch, talking to other women. The television was on. Vimbai came home, sat on the chair in the dining room and started scrolling through a laptop. I wasn’t allowed to watch TV or sit in the lounge or dining room, so I would eat in the kitchen.

Vimbai didn’t help me at all. Vimbai and I were the only girls. The two boys couldn’t do housework. The bedroom would get messy but Vimbai left it as it was. I had to clean it. I slept on the floor and Vimbai took my bed. They took all my parents’ belongings to make them theirs.

Sometimes, I hated them. I just wished life would turn back the way it was before. Every night, I prayed and cried, asking why God let my parents die, why I had to suffer like this.

“You are making noise. This is not a bar. I am sleeping, can’t you see?” Vimbai complained.

I had to learn to whisper prayers, because I didn’t want to fight with her. Sometimes I wanted to shout that it was my father’s home and I could do what I wanted. Uncle Patrick would have made sure I slept outside. It happened when I fought with Vimbai about sleeping on my bed.

“This is not your house. You will sleep outside,” Uncle Patrick would shouted.

I took a mat and put it on the floor. I had two blankets given to me. I missed my bed with sheets, with a pink flowered comforter on top. I owned nothing now. All belonged to the new Chidembe family.

My uncle and his family stayed in the village before my parents passed away. They quickly took over my father’s house. I knew I was a black sheep in their family. They wouldn’t chase me away because people would talk, so just make me an outsider. They say a black sheep is a sheep which has different colours from the rest of the clan. I was that sheep.

***

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