1 chapter 1

"Look at my sun set," my frail face looked at my reflection in that broken small mirror. I could feel my time was up. In my mind was a lecture as if to a child. Amazing how much wisdom l had amassed from solitude, only if it had it a while back, only if. I remembered my youthful days and my innocence as my eyes flashed from the corners with tears of a memory. But alas I still found vileness in that innocence so my lecture begins.

Do not be fooled, innocence is a social construct by and of the fear of living. Well, l say this because of my guilty confessions yet l have no regret at all. I did what l did, l could have done it better if l had known better. The gratification of the human mind comes from the most socially divisive exercises that everyone partake in yet no one has the guts to admit except for the French, the Dutch and myself. Yes I am a guilty man, my past is tainted but l had to live and so l did.

Not so long ago , l too was as innocent and gullible as you are. Keeping to myself and following a laid down code of ethics. I was young and naive. I had faith in life , l had dreams and fantasies. All these following the most risk free hypothetical pathway laid down by my upbringing. Although it might be laughable and truly witty now, my innocence was my source of pride and happiness, notwithstanding the pressures towards society to experimentation l stood my ground and took pride in the uninformed theory of life.

Well my name is Thomas, yeah l know its a generic name for all characters in the literary world but yeah thats mine. I was the living proof of a linear uneventful life representing anything and everything innocent. Ooh how l miss the ignorance of my youth. Although seemingly innocent I was not a simpleton, no ! I had attended boarding school after boarding school hoarding shelves after shelves of useless sumptuous information. That which l most valued in my life experience was my father's moral teachings, all of it, including the senseless religious mumble jumble. My life revolved around religion and to me it was part of my lifestyle. I lived it with the fullness of my mind and soul. They said, "morals maketh men" and l was a definition of manhood.

As a young man I was by no means handsome , l was as dark as the January night with a chiseled out angular face as though a living sculpture. But l had the body of a warrior, after all l came from down below. I had a buffed chest and branches as arms with masculinity written all over. My hands were as hard as sand paper and l stood tall, a true African man. I had dark lips befitting of my dark complexion and a chin so smooth, uninterrupted by the hairs of puberty. I had a very cunning yet innocent grin which l wore everyday minute of every hour showing my set of perfect white teeth. As much as l was not handsome l made up for it by my manhood. I was a man, still am as frail as l may be now.

Before I turned 20 I was the perfect example of a man on a mission. An example pointed to by society, " itai sa thomas", they would say which translates to "emulate Thomas," yet it was all a mirage.  I had no idea why l was doing what l was doing and to what end except for the gratification of my father. The most important thing to me was how this all gratified my father. "Go make us proud son", he would say ," be an example" and so l was, the yob  of the village an example to every young man and woman in my society . I lived by the instruction of my father, l would stand when and how as he instructed. All this perfection was the correction of an old mans failed life, may his soul rest. To my mother I was also a source of pride. I was the only thing she would rattle on about all day even by the village bush borehole while they fetch water, she was so proud of her son. Well l was to my mother a source of pride." My son really is going to make it," she would say in a very loud voice to turn up the jealousy in the hearts of all these uneducated women.  Her inspiration to pride was was made possible by my fair academic successes only amplified by my acceptance and admission at the most prestigious university in Zimbabwe at that time. The University of Zimbabwe, the epitome of tertiary learning at the time. This is where my story would be rewritten.

                                ***********

Before I left for university on a Sunday as was the case with anyone traveling in our family we had a loud prayer session, not so much to pray but as an alarm clock to the village and especially our neighbors that l, Thomas, was departing to Harare to stay there and attend adult school and yes it was a message that my future and that of my family was defined now. It was then still the golden city of lights to many and going there was an achievement and yet l was going to stay there. In our prayer and intercessions we thanks God for the success we had seen and we were optimistic of the continued unforeseen. I stood at the center of the huge family with my fathers hand to the right and my mothers' to the left as l grinned with gratification for this cartoonist support. Everyone made a huge circle around us holding hands as my father led us in a very loud and long prayer which was received by nods and intrusive agreements. "All this, for me," l thought to myself as l continued to grin with my eyes closed.

We said our amens concluding the long prayer. My old father looked at me after the prayer as the hoards of children who were all my siblings began to disperse and softly whispered, " do not forget to be an example ". He breathed out deeply and sneezed the dagga out of his nose as his six wives held their hands to their breast feeling sorry for this old man. I nodded and slightly bowed as l took my leave to my sleeping quarters to which the grand job of packing was awaiting.