Reality Shmeality

Chapter Nineteen

Chris and I decided that we were sick and tired of taking the dalla to Mvuleni. There was too much waiting, too little space, and you never knew what would be on the dalla with you. One day as we headed out to the village, I felt something rubbing against my leg while on the backbench. I looked down to see a tied-up goat under my bench. It looked up at me with the eyes of a prisoner, defeated as he knew there was nothing he could do. The image of the goat haunts me to this day, and I could barely sleep for days following the goat incident on the dalla.

The region to the south of Moshi had the perfect soil for earth blocks. The blocks were the most common material for building homes in the region, and there were countless trucks traveling between the town and the farmland to pick up and drop off blocks. The lorry drivers picked people up along the way, charging the same price as the dallas. It was a great way for them to make some extra cash and an even better way for people to escape the awful conditions of the fully-loaded dalla vans.

Chris asked one of the locals where we could find one of the trucks that went to Mvuleni. He pointed us in the right direction and, unfortunately, we had to walk right past the dalla lot. It was awkward as all the dalla drivers who knew exactly where we were going yelled for us to no avail. Chris lied through his teeth and told them we were walking, which made me feel a little bad. About half a mile past the dalla stand was a small group of men waiting for the next lorry that would be heading out into the plantation. Shortly after arriving, a truck rolled up and everyone climbed up the rungs and onto the back of the truck. The driver got an absolute kick out of two mzungus hitching a ride on his truck. We stood facing forward with our hands on top of the cab and the wind blasting in our faces. It was infinitely better than the dalla. It was a great way to travel to Mvuleni, and it was a special way to start a new era of our gardening project. The day we took the truck was the day we had a backpack full of seeds. After too many hours, too much sweat, and far too many blisters to count, we were ready to plant.

The lorry dropped us off at the same crossroads in the plantation as the first time I went out to Mvuleni. Chris cursed himself for not asking if the truck was going all the way to Mvuleni and, once again, we were harassed by the swarm of bicycle taxi drivers.

"So Flower, you scandalous dog you. Tell me about your little Russian love affair."

I couldn't breathe.

"Don't give me that look, mate. What do I look like, a feckin' idiot? I saw you two leaving the art studio yesterday. You guys had sex written all over your faces. The only way it would have been more obvious is if you had walked out of the studio with your dick still in her! Good on ya, mate! She is feckin' gorgeous she is."

"No man, we are just friends. Nothing like that happened," I said to Chris who was grinning at me like a crazy bastard.

"My ass nothing happened, ya lyin' fuck! Nothing gets by ole Chris here. I may be a grump, but I'm no idiot."

"Please, Chris, please... don't tell anyone. I know you don't live at the hostel but you know everyone I know and..."

"I might be takin' the piss but I'm no teen girl. I don't gossip, ya feckin' rascal you. If there is anyone you can trust to keep your dirty little secret a secret, it's me," he said and immediately I felt relieved. I did trust Chris. "So, how was she, ya sly fuckin animal you?"

"I don't kiss and tell," I said, never thinking I would ever be someone to say something like that.

But part of me did want to spill every dirty little detail about our deviant experience in the studio and about her wanting me to choke her in my room. It was on the tip of my tongue, but I somehow managed to stay quiet. On the off chance that Chris got wasted and spilled the beans, I would have been in deep trouble with Polina.