THE VOID by Jabulani Mzinyathi [short story]

The atmosphere was pregnant with excitement as we went through rehearsals for our graduation day. For most of us except a few who had had sex for grades it had been a gruelling four year journey. There were about two hundred of us who would receive our diplomas in education. Others had dropped out for one reason or the other. We were shown the sitting arrangements. When we were asked to sit I noticed that in the front row there was an empty chair. I wondered as to who had not turned up for the rehearsal.

The front row was for those who had put up sterling performances and had been awarded distinctions and would consequently get trophies, shields and cash awards. Most of us average students licked our lips in caustic admiration. On rehearsal day we already had been made aware as to who the outstanding students were. At dinner time they sat in their own group. Some of us called them ‘good for nothing braggarts’.

‘ Some of you might have wondered why we have left one chair in the front row unoccupied. The answer is that this is in honour of an exceptional student who died a few weeks ago . It is indeed a sad loss for all of us. We all had hoped that he would take up his rightful place among us and go into the world and impart knowledge to many out there who are hungry and thirsty for knowledge. It is not my place to spell out the circumstances that resulted in his death. All I can say is that I have the singular honour to bestow in absentia a diploma in education to Tafirei Muzondiwa.’

The college principal unfurled the diploma document carefully revealing a red seal in the bottom right hand corner. He went on to tearfully announce that the late had scored a distinction in teaching practice, another in English language and literature. The principal further announced that the late had also scored rare distinctions in educational psychology, sociology and philosophy. He stated that these were the best results ever scored by a student since the establishment of the teachers’ college. Tears were flowing down his cheeks as he showered the late student with well deserved accolades. In my mind’s eye I could clearly see the unassuming Tafirei whom we knew to be exceptionally intelligent.

We were asked to stand and observe a minute’ silence in honour of the exceptional student who was no longer with us. After the minute’ silence students, lecturers and the guest of honour clapped hands and ululated with tears streaming down their cheeks. It was like a bright sunny day with a light drizzle. The proceedings then went on.

‘ It is sad that there is not even a single relative to get his diploma and all these prizes. I’m informed that his mother is nowhere to be found. His father’s whereabouts remain unknown too. Also it is indeed sad that his wife died a day after the husband’s demise. I’ll not go into the gory details. It is not my place at all,’ said the college principal wiping away a tear or two.

We were informed that Tafirei had been awarded a large sum of money by a publisher. This was to enable him to proceed to university and pursue an honours degree in education. We also were told that the publisher had decided to institute a trust that would be called the T Muzvondiwa Trust which would cater for the needs of bright college students who came from poor families.

Many like me were baffled as to what had happened to Tafirei. Naturally we were inquisitive. There was an urgent need for closure. The principal had whet our appetite for getting to the truth. . All of us wanted to know what had led to the death of Tafirei, his wife and where his parents were. The principal had only said he wanted to spare us the gory details. We wondered what the gory details were. We wanted to know what had happened to the genius who had scored the sterling results.

After I had gone back to Matamba school where I was now a qualified teacher I received a letter from my college mate, one Shelton Sibanda. It left me dazed like a hen whose chick has been snatched by the steel talons of a bird of prey. The letter which I still have and have read over and over again read as follows:

‘ Dear friend I hope that you are well. I’m fine though still recovering from shock. You are one of those students who yearned to find out the gory details that the principal spared us on graduation day. Indeed the story of Tafirei’s death is stuff of which horror movies are mad. I wish I had not bothered to investigate that matter.

Even as I write this letter to you, I wonder if I am doing the right thing. I hope that you will not be shocked like I was when I got to hear the story from the headmaster of the school where our college mate had been deployed. Please , forgive me if I cause you any anguish. I had a torrid time deciding whether to tell you what I found out. The events that are reported to have unfolded remain indelibly etched in my mind forever.

Tafirei was shocked out of his wits when he found his ‘father’ making love to his wife. He had just arrived unannounced at home from his work place. He was reported to have gone to his huts and found the doors locked. He is said to have proceeded to his ‘father’s’ hut to ask as to the whereabouts of his wife.

I am told that when he knocked and announced his presence there was a deathly silence. As he turned to walk away his wife bolted out of the hut. His ‘father’ is said to have emerged drenched in sweat with his fly undone and without his shirt on. When the truth dawned on him, Tafirei is said to have lost consciousness. When he came to he was said to have asked his ‘father’ what was going on. He could not believe what he had just seen. He is said to have pinched himself as he thought that he was in one absurd nightmare.

By now you must have realized that I am writing father in quotation marks. It turned out that the man was not his biological father as his mother had made him believe. The man is said to have revealed this when Tafirei repeatedly addressed him as such. It was said that he had indicated that he wanted to take Tafirei’s wife for a second wife. He even went on to tell Tafirei that he would refund him the bride price he had paid for the woman. The unusually reserved Tafirei had not violently reacted to all this hogwash.

The man is said to have bragged about his sexual prowess and that he had no time for upstarts who could not sexually satisfy young women. He is said to have bragged in this way even in the presence of Tafirei’s mother who stood dumbfounded when told what had been going on. She is

reported to have told Tafirei that indeed the man was not his father but a man who had married her after his father had deserted them when he was a toddler.

I was told that Tafirei’s mother just bolted into the bush. Tafirei too is said to have run into the bush towards a hillock. People saw him running into the bush wielding a skipping rope . He was found with his neck snapped. They said it seemed as if he had a smile on his face. I was told they had a hard time undoing the fishermen’ s knot. You will remember that Tafirei had tremendous interest in the boy scout movement and this is where he had learnt a lot about knots.

I told you that this is the stuff of which horror movies are made. Tafirei’s wife’s lifeless body was found about ten metres from where he had hanged himself. She had sentenced herself to death by hanging. The two were said to have been buried on the same day. His step father is said to have spent the day working on his field. His mother was nowhere to be found. To this day no-one knows where his mother went or what became of her. She did not attend her son’s funeral. The whole matter left a sour taste in the community. For a long time people could not get over the sordid matter.’

To this day I still have the letter. I read it to try and gain new insights into what really went on. The letter left me with more questions than answers. That deluge of questions continues unabated.