Are they coming

Chapter 1
‘A woman who sweeps her yard after the sun has risen will make a bad wife,’ Ambition’s mother used to tell Senzeni whenever she was late up. Her brother knew why: You’re happy when you dream of nice things. But, today, although it’s the school holidays, and he does not have to sweep the yard, which is the duty of women, Ambition has woken up very early after a restless night as if someone, somewhere, was trying to tell him something.
Standing at the gate, he looks down Sibambene Street. The sun has just risen, promising another warm autumn day. His mother has already swept their yard, and is now busy washing the dishes by the door. ‘Hawu, up so early Ambi, what’s the matter?’ Ambition rubbed his eyes and yawned, ‘Nothing, Mama, my sleep is gone.’
‘Then you must be missing school, my child.’ His mother smiled, her eyes glancing over him, as if checking, as only a mother can, to see if her son has woken up any taller. ‘Don’t worry, the holiday will soon be over and you’ll be back with your books again.’ She gathers her dishes and goes into the house.
Lobengula Township sprawls over a series of rises in the western townships of Bulawayo. Named after last King of the Ndebele, it can be clearly seen on the skyline from Luveve, Magwegwe, Njube and Emakhandeni. Ambition and his family stay on the northernmost rise, the one that faces towards Luveve and Emakhandeni.
Although it’s early, a radio is already blasting gangster music from one of the houses along the street. Ambition knows it’s 3Pac’s. He’s the one who’s always the first to switch on his radio. 3Pac was a strange man. Gangster music, Ambition thought, was not for men his age. He should be listening to traditional music like imbube, which his father liked.
He can also hear the shouts of children playing ‘hit me,’ and guessed Ntando must be with them, for his friend was always an early riser, sometimes sitting outside Ambition’s door waiting for him to wake up to go and play.
A few women – one, two, three, four, five: one big mother and four thin mothers – are sweeping the five yards of their five houses after the sun has risen. Five bad wives. Suddenly, MaVundla stops and pulls herself upright. She’s the big one whom his father says is too clever by half. She looks in his direction. Even at a distance, Ambition can see that her mouth has opened in surprise or shock.
Then she turns to her neighbour, a woman Ambition does not know as she’s only recently arrived in their line. MaVundla seems to say something and the other woman jerks upright and they both stare in his direction. Then, one by one, from both sides of the street, all the sweeping women straighten up and stare at him.
Ambition’s mind races. Has MaVundla gossiped about him, or his family, or Senzeni, and so early in the morning, although the way they’re standing seems to suggest something else? They appear poised, as if about to drop their sweeps and explode into their houses. But they also look as if they’re playing Statue, and only waiting for Ambition to call ‘relax’ so they can continue their work.
When a call comes, it does so from behind him, and it’s the cry of an adult, ‘They’re coming!’
He turns. A man is running towards him.
It’s Mr Nkani, the bald teacher who left Lobengula II High at the end of the year, whose picture is on some of the election posters now pasted all over the township. People say he wants to be an MP for the MDC.
As he draws closer, Ambition sees blood flowing down the left side of his face. It’s stained his shirt as if somebody has sprayed him with raspberry juice. ‘Run! Hide!’ Mr Nkani shouts as he races past him. ‘They’re behind me!’
‘Ambition!’ his mother screams from the open window of the kitchen, dread on her face. ‘Quick! Come into the house!’ Ntando’s chubby face appears beside his mother, his eyes seem huge with fear.
‘No, Mama.’ Ambition hitches up his sagging shorts.
‘No!’ MaNdlovu’s face disappears from the window.
Ambition looks down the street. There’s nobody in sight. Mr Nkani and the sweeping women have disappeared.
He looks up the street, as a gang of youths turn into it running hard and in silence. Only the fury of their pounding feet and pumping arms signals their intention. Green Bombers in green T-shirts. The country’s flag streams above them as if they’re accompanied by a brightly coloured bird.
His mother appears behind him, snatches him up in both hands, and runs into the house with him, as if he were weightless.
So, Ambition now peers at the action through the kitchen window, as if he were watching a forbidden movie on television. His mother is beside him, her mouth rigid with fear; Ntando is on the other side, his face pressed against the glass, and Ambition can feel excitement radiating off his body.
The Green Bombers zip past the gate. Nobody needs to be told whom they want to catch today.
***
Ambition, Ntando and some friends had been returning from a soccer game in Luveve Township just a week previously when they’d seen the Green Bombers near Lobengula Hall. They’d been chasing a man and a woman wearing MDC T-shirts, just as they were chasing Mr Nkani now. The couple had been caught in front of their eyes and had been kicked and stomped on until, covered in blood, they lay on the ground as if dead.

Chapter 1
‘A woman who sweeps her yard after the sun has risen will make a bad wife,’ Ambition’s mother used to tell Senzeni whenever she was late up. Her brother knew why: You’re happy when you dream of nice things. But, today, although it’s the school holidays, and he does not have to sweep the yard, which is the duty of women, Ambition has woken up very early after a restless night as if someone, somewhere, was trying to tell him something.
Standing at the gate, he looks down Sibambene Street. The sun has just risen, promising another warm autumn day. His mother has already swept their yard, and is now busy washing the dishes by the door. ‘Hawu, up so early Ambi, what’s the matter?’ Ambition rubbed his eyes and yawned, ‘Nothing, Mama, my sleep is gone.’
‘Then you must be missing school, my child.’ His mother smiled, her eyes glancing over him, as if checking, as only a mother can, to see if her son has woken up any taller. ‘Don’t worry, the holiday will soon be over and you’ll be back with your books again.’ She gathers her dishes and goes into the house.
Lobengula Township sprawls over a series of rises in the western townships of Bulawayo. Named after last King of the Ndebele, it can be clearly seen on the skyline from Luveve, Magwegwe, Njube and Emakhandeni. Ambition and his family stay on the northernmost rise, the one that faces towards Luveve and Emakhandeni.
Although it’s early, a radio is already blasting gangster music from one of the houses along the street. Ambition knows it’s 3Pac’s. He’s the one who’s always the first to switch on his radio. 3Pac was a strange man. Gangster music, Ambition thought, was not for men his age. He should be listening to traditional music like imbube, which his father liked.
He can also hear the shouts of children playing ‘hit me,’ and guessed Ntando must be with them, for his friend was always an early riser, sometimes sitting outside Ambition’s door waiting for him to wake up to go and play.
A few women – one, two, three, four, five: one big mother and four thin mothers – are sweeping the five yards of their five houses after the sun has risen. Five bad wives. Suddenly, MaVundla stops and pulls herself upright. She’s the big one whom his father says is too clever by half. She looks in his direction. Even at a distance, Ambition can see that her mouth has opened in surprise or shock.
Then she turns to her neighbour, a woman Ambition does not know as she’s only recently arrived in their line. MaVundla seems to say something and the other woman jerks upright and they both stare in his direction. Then, one by one, from both sides of the street, all the sweeping women straighten up and stare at him.
Ambition’s mind races. Has MaVundla gossiped about him, or his family, or Senzeni, and so early in the morning, although the way they’re standing seems to suggest something else? They appear poised, as if about to drop their sweeps and explode into their houses. But they also look as if they’re playing Statue, and only waiting for Ambition to call ‘relax’ so they can continue their work.
When a call comes, it does so from behind him, and it’s the cry of an adult, ‘They’re coming!’
He turns. A man is running towards him.
It’s Mr Nkani, the bald teacher who left Lobengula II High at the end of the year, whose picture is on some of the election posters now pasted all over the township. People say he wants to be an MP for the MDC.
As he draws closer, Ambition sees blood flowing down the left side of his face. It’s stained his shirt as if somebody has sprayed him with raspberry juice. ‘Run! Hide!’ Mr Nkani shouts as he races past him. ‘They’re behind me!’
‘Ambition!’ his mother screams from the open window of the kitchen, dread on her face. ‘Quick! Come into the house!’ Ntando’s chubby face appears beside his mother, his eyes seem huge with fear.
‘No, Mama.’ Ambition hitches up his sagging shorts.
‘No!’ MaNdlovu’s face disappears from the window.
Ambition looks down the street. There’s nobody in sight. Mr Nkani and the sweeping women have disappeared.
He looks up the street, as a gang of youths turn into it running hard and in silence. Only the fury of their pounding feet and pumping arms signals their intention. Green Bombers in green T-shirts. The country’s flag streams above them as if they’re accompanied by a brightly coloured bird.
His mother appears behind him, snatches him up in both hands, and runs into the house with him, as if he were weightless.
So, Ambition now peers at the action through the kitchen window, as if he were watching a forbidden movie on television. His mother is beside him, her mouth rigid with fear; Ntando is on the other side, his face pressed against the glass, and Ambition can feel excitement radiating off his body.
The Green Bombers zip past the gate. Nobody needs to be told whom they want to catch today.
***
Ambition, Ntando and some friends had been returning from a soccer game in Luveve Township just a week previously when they’d seen the Green Bombers near Lobengula Hall. They’d been chasing a man and a woman wearing MDC T-shirts, just as they were chasing Mr Nkani now. The couple had been ca,ught in front of their eyes and had been kicked and stomped on until, covered in blood, they lay on the ground as if dead.

‘Don’t blame me for your failures!’ MaNdlovu blazes.
Before Ngwenya can respond, Ambition darts to the door, opens it, and runs out. It bangs closed.
His mother’s cry follows him, ‘Come back, Ambition!’, as the boy slips through a hole in the delele hedge between his home and Ntando’s.
Tracked by the white-hot eye of the mid-morning sun, he runs across Ntando’s backyard. There’s nobody in sight, only the shirt and trousers of a police uniform hanging on a washing line, looking like an upside-down officer. Gangster music is blasting over the township again.
Ambition squeezes through another hole in the hedge on the other side of the yard and into MaVundla’s property. There’s no one there either, and he quickly runs past a vegetable garden flooded with sewer effluent.
Slipping through the strands of a wire fence on the other side, he observes MaVundla standing before the open door of the house from which the music is pouring. Looking angry, she’s holding a pair of children’s black school shoes in one hand and a cigarette in the other. 3Pac comes out, a cap back to front on his head, a bottle of beer in one hand.
‘I want my money right now!’ MaVundla yells at him.
‘Bring those shoes back before I hit you!’ 3Pac shouts above the noise of the music, waving his bottle at her. ‘How many times have I told you that they belong to a client?’
3Pac and MaVundla are so angry with each other that even though Ambition is in full view, they show no sign of having seen him.
‘You’re going to hit your grandmother’s buttocks not me!’ MaVundla points at him with her cigarette. ‘What kind of a man are you that picks up women and then fails to pay them after you’ve satisfied yourself?’
‘I’ll hit you if you don’t watch your mouth!’
‘Hee-hee-hee!’ MaVundla laughs shrilly. ‘Hit me and see what’ll happen to you, boy!’ She throws the cigarette at him, and 3Pac’s bottle flies at her. Quick as a flash, MaVundla ducks, and the bottle whizzes past Ambition’s head. Seeing the bottle miss his target, 3Pac leaps at MaVundla and she races away, the old man in hot pursuit. As she runs, she yells, ‘I want my money! My body is not for free!’
‘Prostitute!’ 3Pac shouts as he chases after her. He’s running as if he’s wet his trousers, legs wide, one hand gripping his trousers by the belt as if they might fall down. Pursuer and pursued disappear around the house, as Ambition runs across the yard and climbs over the fence.
Finally, he emerges into Sibambene Street, six houses away from his home. He walks fast, heading east past pockets of people, mostly agitated women talking in hushed tones.
He walks purposefully on, until he emerges into Masiyephambili Drive. He waits for a long distance haulage truck to roar past, and then skips to the other side. He’s in a small bushy area between Lobengula and Njube townships, where a tall marula tree provides shade. An Apostolic Faith Church group is congregated there. Ambition heads towards them.
Chapter 3
The congregation is not very large; its members, all singing, are kneeling before the priest in neat rows, their white gowns contrasting with the monotony of the earth colours of the autumn bush. When the priest, Siziba, sees Ambition, he raises his long staff over his head, as if he wants to hook something above him. The singing stops immediately. Ambition stops before him and hitches up his shorts.
The priest regards him silently. He’s an elderly man with a clean-shaven head and a long white beard. A huge red cross is stitched to the front of his gown.
‘You’re late today,’ Siziba’s voice is low and grating. ‘It’s past eleven now.’
‘There were Green Bombers in the street,’ Ambition replies. ‘My mother didn’t want me to leave the house.’
‘We saw the fighting from here,’ Siziba acknowledges. ‘Has your sister returned home?’
Ambition shakes his head. ‘No.’
‘When did you last see her?’
‘She was with the Green Bombers today.’
Siziba raises his face to the sky, closes his eyes, and breaks into a song. The congregation do the same. Still singing, Siziba hands his Bible and staff to the woman kneeling beside him, his wife MaSiziba. Beside her is MaChivanda, the money-changer who lives in the big yellow house behind Ambition’s home.
Then, stretching his arms towards Ambition, his eyes half-closed, the priest flicks his fingers in and out, beckoning him nearer. Ambition steps forward and kneels in front of Siziba, who grips his face in both his hands, and looking up to the heavens breaks into tongues, while the women sing. MaChivanda is leading in a light but beautiful descant.
Ambition feels Siziba’s palms on his cheeks squeezing them so that his lips pout. It makes him feel silly. Given a choice, he would have preferred the priest to place his hands on his head, as he does with the adults.
Finally, the prayer ends, and Siziba joins in the singing again, smoothly taking the lead from MaChivanda. Removing his hands from Ambition’s cheeks, he takes a strip of red cloth from a bag at his feet and, still singing, he ties it around the boy’s forehead. Then he takes a length of white cloth from the bag, pours a little water on it, and hands the cloth to Ambition.