We prepared for church, and a friend of mine came to pick us up at the gate. I noticed the doors of Nomsa’s house were closed. I figured they went to visit their relatives.

My mind was free; I only thought about what was happening at church. The service was blessed. I enjoyed the singing and dancing, and for the teaching and preaching my mind was clear and focused. My children went to Sunday school; they enjoyed playing and reading about Joseph, David and other names in the Bible.

We came back in a car, which dropped us by the corner near the gate. I saw Vimbai coming, but she was not in a good state. Her dress was torn and she was crying louder. There was blood on her dress. I jumped and panicked.

“What happened to her?” my father asked.

He looked but didn’t want to meddle, so he went with my children in the gate. I waited for her
to come closer. Her knee was bleeding.

“Where are you coming from?” I asked.

She kept crying until she reached me. She breathed heavily and tried to stop herself from wailing. She had a wound on her head and also her elbow.

“The dogs bit me,” she talked slowly, breathing slowly.

“What dogs?” I asked confusedly.

“Dani’s dogs,” she replied.

“What were you doing at Dani’s?” I asked, but she remained silent.

“Don’t tell me you went to steal mangos?”

“Nomsa said they don’t bite,” she said, crying.

“Let me help you with the wounds,” I said, helping her inside the gate.

I washed the wounds with Dettol and applied Betadin ointment. I gave her a glass of juice and muffins from the kitchen. I had to prepare lunch, so I asked her to sit with me since her parents weren’t home. We went in the lounge to join my children watching a cartoon movie.

“Vimbai, Nomsa lied about the dogs. There is something that happened a long time ago that involves you,” I spoke gently.

She wasn’t interested in watching television, so I asked her to join me in the kitchen. The noise of my children giggling would interrupt our conservation.

“What is it?” she asked curiously.

I put the rice in salt water and took the cooked meat in the fridge. I started to cut mushrooms and peppers to put in the meat.

“Are you going to tell me?” she asked cautiously.

I didn’t know how to start but I had to. Nomsa’s lies led Vimbai to get bitten by vicious dogs; what if it had been worst?

“Long back, before my children were born, there was Mutsa and his sister who stayed next door; your father knows him. We used to go to the Mukuvisi Woodlands to swim and just be in the bush. One day, your mother asked Nomsa to look after you. We all wanted to go to the river. Nomsa took you there; you were only a year and 10 months. We put you down under the tree then swam in the river. When Nomsa went to check on you, you were missing. We all panicked, then started to swim deeper, searching for your body. The water wasn’t colourless. It was dirty; I felt your leg down there but we couldn’t pull you up. You were stuck by a stone. My sister called others for help. We went back to the deepest then we brought you ashore. The funny thing is you had not swallowed water, but you cried. We quickly put on our clothes because we were frightened. If anything happened to you, we would be in deep trouble. You were saved. From that day we went to the river alone, without you,” I finally told her while she sat there silently.

“Why didn’t Nomsa tell me? She hated me,” she cried.

“No, it’s not that. We were all kids. We wanted to enjoy ourselves, but incidents happened. Nomsa doesn’t hate you,” I comforted her.

“She does. Why did she go with me there? She wanted to kill me?” she shouted and walked out of our house.

“Vimbai! Vimbai!” I shouted loudly.

Tell us: Do you think Nomsa really does hate her sister?