“Kudzai, Nyasha! Huya pano – come here,” Nyasha’s father, Mr Mukombe pierced into her fantasy. She dropped everything and ran to his hut. Never wanting to waste his time, Kudzai, who was also sculpting, swatting, sipping under her own Musasa tree, followed behind.

“Baba?” said Nyasha.

“Mr Mukombe?” whispered Kudzai.

“Nyasha, I was watching you. Are these dreams starting again? I told you to stop that rubbish! Pull up those pants, you look like a ngochani – lesbian. Sies!” Mr Mukombe said sternly without even looking at his daughter and carried on polishing his shoes that had leather peeling off.

“Ndineurombo – sorry Baba,” Nyasha said quietly. Kudzai stood by her side, embarrassed for her.

Mr Mukombe’s voice boomed again, “Your friends’ parents and I have been talking. Tengenenge has been an important place for all of us. We have lived, worked and enjoyed life here. But the sculptures are not selling well anymore. We have decided to send the two of you to study in South Africa after your final school year.”

The two girls nodded with no objection and made their way back to their Musasa trees. Only one of their hearts was beaming with excitement.

Amongst Nyasha’s many daydreams, this conversation had always featured and it was finally coming true. She could hardly believe that her days of sculpting, swatting and sipping were almost over. Thoughts flooded her; now how she could sculpt away at her façade and wear her Lil Wayne pants as low as she wished. Rusununguko at last!

Nyasha looked over to Kudzai, who stood facing the sun. It glowed golden against her olive skin. The breeze was blowing in her direction and she caught a whiff of that rosy scent. Nyasha thought of her mum and beamed.

With that, Nyasha and her friend were shipped to board at a school in South Africa, Egoli to be specific; the place of bright rainbows that lead to pots filled with mounds of gold. There, the girls’ parents sent them with the hope that they would fill their pockets thick with gold and bring it home for the betterment of Tengenenge village. Little did they know that not all that glitters is gold.

*****

Joni, as Nyasha and Kudzai affectionately called their new home, Jo’burg was everything they thought it would be. The fast-paced life, the bright lights and many of their fellow Zimbabweans who plaited hair on the pavement and yelled “fifty rand istraight-back mngani – R50 for straight back friend”. It was so different to their village life yet so familiar.

Not even a week into their arrival, Nyasha bought the new Nike Air Max, she felt it would represent her style better. Next, she chopped off all her hair and did the hairstyle Masasko’s – South Africans were calling is’Nandi. Every day she spritzed on that Brute deodorant. She knew how much Kudzai loved its musky scent.

Kudzai went through a transformation too. She was always a natural beauty with her smooth, olive skin and natural hair so black, it looked unnatural. Joni-life helped her blossom even more into a beauty that attracted all the guys, to Nyasha’s dismay. Kudzai’s clothes became tighter, her nails longer and manicured and all those Youtube make-up tutorial videos helped her make-up stay on fleek.

All was going to plan. They were now Witsies who were roomies at res. They got to eat DH food which was so different to the daily sadza and nyama – mielie meal and meat back in Tengenenge. They visited Rosebank Mall almost every Saturday, even though most times it was just window-shopping. They did everything together, the dazzling duo who were so different but so close to the point where one would so effortlessly respond to the calling of the others’ name. All seemed perfect for them but for Nyasha this was not enough. She was obsessed with the idea of being so close to Kudzai that even skin contact felt like Kilimanjaro was between them.

***

Tell us what you think: Do you think Nyasha should tell Kudzai how she feels?