Small Heaven

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 An Exerpt from the novel: "SoulMate"

By Vusumzi Matomane on Thursday, January 6, 2011 at 6:35pm

Small Heaven

Farther down the road the two sisters went, silently, with Adeola contemplating about her lost world, and about the familiar faces she once knew, and about that one-special-face of a man she could not remember.

‘What happened to my world?’ The question rang on her mind like echoes of a distant gong.

“Nandi, what happened to my world?”

            “Your world... your world is... your world is gone.” Nandi answered.

“But my world can’t go. Worlds don’t go. It can’t just go.” Adeola protested.

            “I’m afraid it has, my sister…”

Adeola was now beginning to half-believe her companion for; the picture before her eyes was, another imagination of hers of an ancient village: hidden in the forest, rondavels scattered here and there, with its inhabitants; friendly and stress-free—walking leisurely and bare-footedly on their boundless carpet of green grass. Gone were the jumbo-jets, cruise-liners, bullet-trains, skyscrapers, concrete driveways and pavements. Gone was science and technology.

            “This is your new world now,” continued Nandi and added, “you’re going to like it here: its cleaner, greener and fresher. It’s only us and our small heaven.” She tried to explain.

In Nandis’ land, there were no: stock-exchanges, oil-rigs, power-stations, (and by the look of things in Adeola’s perception) there seemed to be no wars, illnesses, crimes, racists nor political-parties in this new land. People seemed to be in the state of utmost happiness. They were stress-free. It was, to Adeola, indeed, a new world—a world of simplicity and purity; a world she never thought it existed.

“Nandi, suppose I believe you.  Say, you’re right: so this, your world, where did it come from?” Adeola asked in a tone of a defeated competitor.

            “That; I really don’t know, my sister,” was the response.

In silence, once more, under the dappled shadows of the forest; Nandi and Adeola went. Nandi’s ear remained attentive for another question, and Adeola’s mind did not know what to think or ask anymore. Her mind was floating in an ocean of meaninglessness.

“And the huts?” came another question after some silence.

            “What about the huts?”

“Who’s the builder? Or did you find them here ready for lodgement?”

            “No, Bantu is building the huts. Since you’re here; I’m sure he’s going to build one for you.” Nandi assured.

“So, this hut you mention, how much is it going to cost me?”

            “A ‘thank you’ is payment enough to Bantu,” Nandi informed and continued to add, “I’m sure you’ll grow to like him as well.”

The huts were cleverly positioned in the open-spaces of the vast forest. Vaguely, the thatched huts reminded Adeola of a holiday resort she might have visited (with the man whose face she could not remember, still).            Roses and tulips adorned the footpaths leading to the doors of the huts. Birds and bees; in unison, formed a massed-choir of chirping and buzzing as the butterflies darted from bloom to bloom. The entire place seemed to Adeola; a work of genius—a masterstroke. The vague memory and the recent scenario formed in her mind a new memory—a freshly baked memory of a new world.

“Listen, you might as well forget about your old world; it is in the past. You’re here now and that’s what matters. Your future is here. Do you understand?”    Nandi encouraged her new friend.

“I don’t understand but I believe you.” Adeola finally gave in.

As they walked side-by-side; Nandi started to talk about the jewels of her world: the fair weather, clean air, pure waters, flora and fauna. She now became more of a tour-guide for Adeola; “If you branch easterly from here and walk for about one-and-a-half kilometres; you’ll find the orchards. There’s also honey there. Our men get it for us... did I tell you about the spas?”

“No.”

“You’re going to love the spas. They’ve such healing powers; very revitalizing. Tomorrow I’m taking you to my favourite. My dear, you’re going to be stress-free here, and if you’re fortunate; you might find your soul-mate whilst you’re having fun. Now, how’s that for a paradise?” The high-spirited Nandi ended her speech with the question.

“It sounds nice—marvellous. So, about the spas; do they have enclosures? I wouldn’t like a surprise-attack from behind.” Adeola asked, concerned.

            “The men here are very loving. They take good care of us. My dear, there are no rapists here…look, here comes Bantu.”

Bantu emerged, carrying his fruit-laden basket, from behind two tall pine trees; a few paces in front of the ladies. On his left hand he had two sticks of equal lengths tied together with a rope. Bantu carried his sticks, whenever he was to build a rondavel, in the same fashion and gaiety a gardener carries his measuring-line for his seedbeds.

“Hullo ladies.”

            “Hullo Bantu. Who are you building for?” Nandi asked the builder and quickly informed her friend that, “This one never rests—always hard at work. We’re worried about him…” Nandi paused and waited for an answer from Bantu, who, went on to address Adeola,

“They all know I enjoy my work, and, besides, everyone needs a shelter,” and lastly Nandi, “I’m going to build my hut; not far from the orchards. I like it there—the fruit is close or should I say; I’ll be close to the fruit…who is your friend?”

            “This is Adeola, I’m showing her around.”

“And I can bet my right hand that Adeola doesn’t have a hut. Does she?” He uttered his old and famous joke.

            “No, she does not.” Nandi answered on her friends’ behalf.

“Adeola,” he now addressed her directly, “I’ll now build two neighbouring huts—I call this; ‘change of strategy.’            Now, how does that sound?”  Bantu and Nandi had to wait for some time to hear the answer from Adeola who was contemplating around the newly-formed idea of two neighbouring huts.

‘I don’t want to be neighbours with this strange man.’ Her inner voice was saying.

“Well, what can I say; I need a hut. Thank you.” Finally and politely, she accepted and went on to enquire, “So, if I may ask, where were you staying all this while; hut less?”

“In these parts of the woods; I’m welcomed in every hut.    Now I’ll go to Nandi’s when I need to see you…for discussions and progress concerning your hut. Ladies, let me run.” Bantu gave the ladies two mangoes each and was off.  Adeola thought she heard him whistle a tune.

“For the first time, we’ll see neighbouring huts… I think he has a thing for you.” Nandi started once Bantu was out of earshot.

“I’m married.”

            “So you remember?”

“I just feel that I’m married to someone—I’m sure it’s going to be nice to have shelter of my own and a caretaker next-door; but I won’t entertain such a fantasy of me and a builder; together. I must remain loyal…until the end.            As a woman you must understand that. Do you understand?” She sealed the topic about the builder.

            “I can understand— now, here we are.” Nandi finally announced.   Inside the forest there was a huge glade and one hut that looked, rather, bigger than the ones Adeola had seen already and its external walls were colourfully decorated, and the surrounding garden was the most precious sight she had ever seen with her naked eyes. The natural informality of the garden; revived in her memory: an imagination of paradise. The hut stood there majestically and resembled to her; headquarters-of-some-kind.

“So Nandi, is this the kingdom of your world?” She enquired from her guide.

            “This hut belongs to Nambita.” Nandi informed once more and continued to add, “She’s staying alone in this glade.”

On arrival at the hut, Adeola was having a tough time in estimating the Nambita’s age. Throughout her strolling with Nandi along the gravel road; she had come to believe that they were of almost, if not the same, age.         But with Nambita it was a different matter. Nambita was a complete different character from all the ones Adeola had encountered so far. Nambita was different and strange—but in a good way. She was warm. What made Nambita’s age unpredictable was the look in her eyes. Her eyes seemed to be gazing far in the distant future and at one instant; far behind in the past. Those were the looks that made Nambita, in Adeola’s eyes, to look a couple of centuries older.

‘So it’s a Goddess after all,’ she thought to herself whilst she was being introduced by Nandi.

“And how do you like it here, so far?” Nambita asked whilst she served them fruits and fresh water.

“Thus far; I like it. I’m not sure, though, if I’m going to like that Bantu-character. I don’t think I’ll ever like him. Is he the only builder around?  I mean; there has to be other builders. Aren’t there?”

            “Now, Adeola, my dear, it might be a new world to you—or for you. But there are rules here—or, say, customs. It’s customary, here, that Bantu builds for everyone. Now this means that; you don’t choose your neighbours, Bantu places everyone where he sees fit.            In fact, many girls here, and I’m sure Nandi will agree with me, envy the opportunity you’re about to have simply because Bantu is a good man—clever, loving, understanding, hard-working, kind, honest and handsome. Now, even here, such a breed is very rare to find. If I were you; I’d stop complaining.” The older lady lectured the younger one.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to wait and see. But if I don’t like it in that rondavel—in that neighbourhood; I hit the road.”

            “You’ll be on your own. You will wait alone and see for yourself.   Now, for the running-away part; I wouldn’t advise a girl to run-away from an angel.” Nambita teased the new friend, and the two young ladies could not help themselves but giggled.

“So, in this kingdom you have Black angels?” Out of curiosity Adeola enquired.

            “What ever made you to think that there can’t be Black angels? We have lots of angels here: Cream angels, Pink angels, Peach angels, Yellow angels, Green angels, Blue angels, Black angels—the likes of Bantu.    In fact, he’s one of a kind and you must take good care of that man,” advised Nambita, “He’s our main-man.” She concluded.

            “And when you’re in that neighbourhood,” added Nandi on a lighter note, “You might as well feed him—and feed him well…oh, how I wish I could have someone to take care of.” Beautiful Nandi was becoming tired of waiting for an angel to cross her path; not two or many, but just one angel. Already, she was beginning to believe that; ‘Something is not right with these angels.’     She could not understand how a crew of angels could fail to take note of such high degrees of internal and external beauty that she possessed.

            “Nandi, my dear, you mustn’t feel that way. All things will happen in due course,” the wiser advised once more, “Now, let me ready myself so you can do my hair.”  


Copyright © Vusumzi Matomane 2009

[...to be continued...]