BEYOND-short story

ghost

The noise is deafening. I am not sure if I will be able to tolerate it this year. I wonder why God is evicting a lot of people that side. To Whom It May Concern; kindly create more space. Not that I am complaining, my own is fairly comfortable. Dear reader I know we are nearing the end of the year but which time really? Certainly it can’t be that time of the year when a lot of evictions occur, Heroes and Christmas. Or is it the deadly HI virus-it can’t be. Apparently these people are fortunate; they get ill and yet manage to live longer. We were not so lucky, not I in particular, those that were evicted along with me. I did one of my routine cross-over walks yesterday. I was appalled to see my husband at the New Start Center. During our time such places were O.O.B-out of bound. I didn’t bother to wait for the results, I mean really.

I was talking about the noise, when some people are evicted there is always some form of celebration. Quite frankly I fail to find the logic behind this. I have always been a sucker for quietness from the time I was flesh and blood. On some days it’s a short-lived ululating and whistling. Today these guys are actually dancing, not that it interests me at all. Whoever said at one point you get rid of your enemies lied. Tsungai arrived yesterday. We were bonafied foes. She has already established the G.A, Gossip Association. I recovered from her meanness by assuming I fascinate her, that was fifteen years ago. Now I’m positive she believes I am a Deity that she aspires to conquer, you know like God and Lucifer. At least we are separated by thousands of graves, which means I can avoid her till Sunday. We both were and still are Catholic.

I have turned up the volume to my favorite song, wandirasa by Chioniso Maraire to drown the noise. My friend, MaNdlo, is extremely depressed. We went to her marital home yesterday-former anywhere. There was a new woman, the kids call her mommy, MaNdlo’s pictures have been removed, her once white kitchen has been redecorated to black. Nothing in that house reflects she was once part of it-only the children maybe. She cried. I cried too. Not because I felt her pain, I understood it. I understand the concept of tears, it’s in two ways. You cry because you are terribly sad or unbelievably euphoric. She will probably cry again today and the day after and the day after, I will certainly cry with her until she cries no more.

Bad signal on radio. I have switched it off. Irksome noise. Rasta is playing the drum, it’s the Heroes holiday. Apparently its tradition, he plays the drum to welcome evictees during this season. I am reliably informed he woke up a few minutes after his death when his brother attempted to cut his hair. I still laugh just thinking about it. There are weird characters here. Gogo, who is positive I am her daughter in law. She asks me how her grandchildren are-since because of ill-health she can’t crossover. Though I had one child I play along, she is old after all. I even clean her grave when I can spare time. Then there is Petunia, she walks around with a mirror, says she will not miss a moment of her decay.

The noise has subsided. Now I can think properly. By the way rumour has it that the end is near. MaNdlo heard it from Sandra, who heard it from Denford who heard it from some guys who came visiting from West Park. I am at Luveve by the way. This reminds me of how Jesus will come to take the living and the dead. We still repeat the Apostle’s Creed you know. Let me however hasten dear reader to inform you: this is not the first rumour of this nature. I suppose that explains my reasonably serene attitude. Not that I have any reason to be agitated. I have been considerably upright all my lives. Do not fear eviction dear reader; I know my audience is still in the house. It’s a natural transition.

It’s now silent, very silent. The merrymaking has come to an end I should think. Problem is, I never can see anything through my window. I can write now. Nothing Changes. I have a long day tomorrow. I decided to join the law profession when I got here, something I always wanted to do before my premature eviction. I am a Magistrate now. I have been working on the case of D.P.G (Dead People’s Government) vs. a certain gentlemen (name withheld) who has allegedly not paid taxes for the five years he has been here. He is a difficult man. I will conclude this case tomorrow. I find him guilty andsentence him to ghosting ad infitum.

                                                                                

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