THE AFTERMATH

CHAPTER TWELVE

ALINA

Post recovery from the attempted suicide when I was twelve, our friendship with Michael grew so gradual yet steadily. Like a tree planted in the desert with a big will to survive, the deep roots of our connection simmered into our souls. Sourcing for love and care to thrive as the roots scramble for water beyond the deepest water table in the ground. Before we realised it, we had grown so fond of each other and it became very apparent that nothing could ever separate us.

Mind you, I said friendship not intimate relationship. We vowed to take care of each other and I would safely say, we invested into our unique relationship and soured our trust into each other's destinies.

Our houses were not that far from each other but there were two compounds in between. My father being a renounced and hardworking peasant farmer, he had built a small one bed-roomed modern house and two huts in addition to the main kitchen. Michael's parents were more well up as they were both teachers in the neighboring school. We both attended that primary school and secondary school respectively.

Mberengwa is a hilly countryside with so many flat rocks, kopjes and dark caves. One day when we were strolling home from school, we both excitedly discovered this small curve on the underside of the rocky mountain that overshadowed our residential area. Unlike most of the caves known around, it wasn't that dark and scary. Instead, it felt homely and comfortable.

Inside were well rounded and sculpted rocks randomly scattered on the ground. Initially, we even swore that somebody or something must have taken shelter in this cave in the primitive era. There was a big stone which hung loosely at the entrance of the cave. We naturally assumed it was the door to this beauty.

With our small body frames then, we could easily slide it back and forth to open and close however we wished. From the top of this cave loft, there was a small opening which always allowed either the moonlight or sunshine to stream through and brighten our home away from home.

We were never worried about snakes because outside this cave was a mini forest of wild plants which we believed chased away any bad luck to include snakes and scary animals. I don't know the name of the plant but we both chose to call it butterfly. In spring, these numerous beauties always bloomed pink and purple flowers.

During the day, we enjoyed the view of the butterflies flying and dancing over and about the flowers beautifying the skies. With a pleasant sight such as this, we always felt our sorrows disappear into thin air like the heavy smoke diffuses into the happy clouds.

No problems seemed to last forever whenever we had dreams of our good lives to come in the comfort of our cave and in the company of the butterflies and the exquisite purple flowers. It became our resting place and 'Go-to-Butterfly' whenever the need arose. That saw the birthing of the coding game.

If I was hungry and needed food to eat, all I needed to say in his ear's reach was 'green'. So was 'red' for emotional pain when I needed to vent and cry. Blue was for Happy times and so the list goes on and on. We never used rainbow though, until Michael coded it earlier on the phone today.

His statement is power packed with so many clues. I know that I will meet him at our old hide out cave which we used to call 'Butterfly' and it has to be at night between 12 and  3 am hence the owl signal. Most importantly, he has multiple needs as we speak ranging from food, comfort and stretching as dark as pain and danger.

I step on the gas as I realise how much in jeopardy Michael is at this point. I'm only grateful that he is alive nonetheless. I check on Chael who seems to be sleeping peacefully in his seat. I find myself constantly checking on him through the rear view mirror. I keep doing it one too many times and subconsciously, I find myself smiling effortlessly. My heart is softening towards him.

We are about an hour away from Beitbridge border post. I make a mental note to grab some food while we do the paperwork. Chael is still sleeping but I also need to make sure he eats something solid. The last time he snacked was when we left Pretoria a while ago.

This mindfulness is only evidence enough that motherhood comes in different ways. No-one ever schooled me in taking care of a child yet I could safely count on my protectiveness over Chael that I am mothering him already. The past 24 hours have given me ample time to get accustomed to caring for him and fairly speaking, motherhood and I are twinning perfectly.

The bigger problem though is how I am going to smuggle Chael through the border post with a fake passport. I have in less than a day turned from being a clean citizen to being an amateur scared adamant criminal. Thanks to my cash reserves I managed to source a backyard passport for him in less than an hour before we left.

For that particular reason, I vacillated and hesitated to inform the police about Michael because I was scared this fraud I just committed would also come back biting me in the tail. So I just left.

At least I called Jane and bid my farewell to her. However, I didn't pre-empty my journey plans to her because I couldn't risk having anyone advising me against leaving for this trip. It is my only way to fish for answers from Michael. The hell it has been a carousel week of lies, uncertainty and mystery.

I am not sure if is the odds that are just in our favor or it is the innocent faces we pause for the authorities. Anyways, what's left to appreciate is that we experience smooth border services.

It's an hour before midnight, Chael and I are cruising through the semi empty highway heading north.

To my roots.

Wrong!

To both our roots.

Even if it is going to be for a minute, Chael gets to acquaint with his forefathers for the first time in his life. May they guide us through this journey because honestly, I feel exhausted! To cherry the top, I am scared, the dark night has plucked my confidence away from me. I am beginning to question my decision to drive all the way from Johannesburg.

Oh shit!

Kaem.

Oh my God, I forgot to try his number again.

I pull over the highway, stupidly try to call again and 'no coverage' sign smiles back at me.

I forgot the one simple crucial detail, means of communication.

I only have this South African line. I should have organised a Zimbabwean simcard. To make matters worse, it is in the middle of the night and I can't source anything right away. I only have about an hour and half if I still intend to see Michael tonight so I can't afford to divert the route in quest to purchasing a simcard.

Eventually, I trust my instincts and bet on my life as I continue driving like a maniac in the bad Zimbabwe highway roads going to Mberengwa in the hope of meeting Michael.

I will have to call Kaem tomorrow when I make a plan.