Sunday came early. Perhaps it was because I
did not expect it to. Bison and I played our games as we usually did. That
Sunday she told me about Chomba Kachiza.
“Funny name,” I remarked with a shy chuckle.
To be fair, I was a bit jealous. I called him “Kachiz,” implying "small
cheese,” just to annoy her a bit. She laughed. Despite how fair and fun our
Sunday turned out, I could not shake off that tinge of jealousy.
“I wish we could go somewhere, just you and
I,” Bison finally interrupted my thoughts.
“How about a drive to Livingstone?” I replied
without thinking much about it.
Knowing Bison as well as I had, I knew she
would agree and I would be forced to commit. I had trouble committing.
“Let’s go next weekend!” she said with such
girlish excitement that for a moment – a very brief moment, the joy of our
friendship was pasted on her face.
The drive to Livingstone was a silent one. The
heavens did not appear to be above us. They were right next to us, on the other
side of the highway. A golden streak appeared to be separating two dark clouds.
It was as though God himself was about to make a grand appearance. I only saw
the glimpse of it, and was moving too fast to catch His grand entrance. One
hundred and twelve kilometres per hour. The clouds that appeared at the next
distance seemed to be clouds of hell’s fire falling on us. Nearing our
destination I imagined that the last judgment was happening right at my very
sight and I completely blew passed it. I
was moving at one hundred and twenty kilometres per-hour, with Dostoyevsky in
the speakers rumbling about man, civilization, stupidity and consciousness.
What a peculiar way to philosophise over life – disguising it in all in lies
and spite. Bison introduced me to Dostoyevsky and admitted that she once saw
him as a man of brilliant madness. I only wondered how a girl from Woodlands
stumbled upon this Russian chap – who was long dead, by the way. Nonetheless,
the man seemed to be in full commitment and sheer enjoyment of it all. Piercing
through air at the speed of light, I accelerated passed God’s grand entrance,
the devil’s fiery breath, and all together, beyond the last judgment. Unwilling to witness God’s coming made me
realize that I had severe commitment issues. I couldn’t even commit to watching
hell fall upon us. What a shame. To make
matters worse, I couldn’t even commit to the highway’s speed limit.
My co-pilot, Bison, was fast asleep at this
point. Two hours away from our final destination. Livingstone. She needed the
rest considering the workload she had to endure to ensure she could get a full
seven days off work. Kachiz was far from being her boyfriend, so I assumed she
deemed herself free to mingle with whomever and whenever, so long as the mood
was right. However, that was not in her character. On the surface Bison seemed
like she had changed a lot, she was becoming Mwila-An, a lady and a lawyer.
There was a lot of new things about her to discover but deep inside she was
still the person I knew. I could not help feeling that I was running from
something beyond commitment. My life lacked adventure and a desire to commit to
anything was simply bad for an adventurous life. Perhaps that is exactly how
Regina thought. No. She was willing to commit, trusting I respected her purity
till marriage.
Regina
was a pretty young girl with such gorgeous eyes. I met her the last time I went
to Livingstone. I was young and excited about the tourist experience
Livingstone had on offer. I didn’t plan on finding love, I wanted to tour the
pubs and find alcohol; lots of it. Regina caught my attention and changed my
plans. She was dark skinned and smiled as though the entire continent depended
on it. I promised to respect her purity, I was in love and quite confident
about committing myself to her. One night we were parked alongside a park, with
a drowsy sun behind us. It was warm and we were recovering from a beautiful day
spent together. A temporary lust erupted. Gentle touches followed magnetic
tongues. I knew how to respond in such situations, however, she was
inexperienced and explored very little of her sexual emotions. Despite her
commitment to her virginity, she lost possession of herself. Her body jerked
like a fish on land; her eyes flung to the back of her head and from there I
knew – my lips were not enough. She was ready to take all of me at the expense
of her purity. Innocence. Everything she had held dear to heart was up for
grabs. What frightened me was how much control I had over it all. I wrapped my
arms around her lower back and pulled her closer, venturing deeper with my
tongue. High and low gasps of pleasure
took a hold of her breath. I squeezed her in again, tighter this time. And
finally those eyes – those brown hazel eyes I once adored – returned. But where was that setting sun? Nowhere. We
were in the dark, lumped up in the back of my Honda civic. Midnight. Tragedy.
That night, I could not even commit to my own lust. Regina was special. I eventually
left her, in fear that it was only a matter of time before her purity would
fall victim to wrath of my lust.
Back on that highway, I was tempted to ask
Bison how she handled it all – commitment, virginity, the desire to be
adventurous and the struggle of coming to terms with adulthood. One hundred sixty
kilometres. It was pointless to ask such a desperate question to someone who
slept through the last judgement. Dostoyevsky might have an answer for me, but the chap is beyond me –
beyond this world, philosophising over the afterlife. Committed.
I once thought of Regina as a nag and an
attention seeker, but she was neither one of those things. I have sometimes
thought of her as a fling, which is not entirely true, considering I never went
all the way with her. I met her a virgin and left her as one. That night in the
back of the Civic was the night I realised that I was not worthy of virgin
grounds. Perhaps that is what Bison reminded me of – that I was not worthy.
Perhaps that is why I was so irritated with Bison the day of our little fight. But
what was that jealousy for?
A wise man once said to me: “Man and woman
cannot be friends. There will always be a desire for more than just friendship.
Eventually, one will demand something the other cannot give – but in the event
that the demand is met, the friendship loses its value.”
Could it be that Bison and I have deceived
ourselves all our lives? That a moment was yet to come when one of us would
finally desire more? I would be the one foolish enough to risk it all. I would
take the risk of breaking our friendship for something more. Prove that I am
worthy. That I could commit. Then what? What if she would not see me in the
same light, what if I was not pure enough for her?
Our first night in Livingstone was nothing
short of amazing. We found ourselves underneath a lunar rainbow. The sounds of
the falls was beautiful, but I could not help thinking that once that waterfall
hit the ground there was nothing pretty about it. A ferocious smashing and
scattering. I imagined falling in love to be the same. The fall is beautiful,
but once you hit the bottom of it, there is nothing pretty about it.
“You look amazing,” I said, brushing my
thoughts away. She did look beautiful. I wondered if she had always been this
beautiful. Perhaps it was the moonlight complimenting her.
“Many have died at the bottom of this
beautiful fall,” she finally spoke, with a look that suggested she had a
glimpse of my thoughts. “It is just so romantic, is it not?” She spoke again,
this time to break the silence.
The water was like a black velvet cloth
underneath the moonlight. The air breezed through us. Trees were just shadows,
and those around us were nothing but voices and movements in the dark. We were
alone, in the midst of life and Mother Nature. “But abena Zambia mwalishishita
mwe,” she laughed. “If there is a perfect time to kiss a girl, this is it,” she
added, with a blush.
A
puzzling uneasiness took hold of all my thoughts. The temptation to prove
myself worthy of virgin grounds wrestled with the fear of losing a friend.
Could it be possible that she wanted to cross the boundaries of our friendship
– that she desired more? A rubbery grip took hold of my hand.
“I can’t tell what this feeling is; I just
want you to kiss me.” She sounded very certain that a kiss was all she wanted.
I could
have easily believed that, but beyond that – in that unknown feeling – there
was a cluster of undiscovered desires. I hesitated. Her hand still holding
mine, I pulled her in closer, palmed the back of her skull with my left hand
and finally kissed her forehead. I did that to remind her - to show her that I
valued our friendship more.
No comments:
Post a Comment