Chapter 8

Ipyana

“I am out of the HM facility. But my mind is still there.” Atupele said. “I have trouble getting to sleep. I have a lot of flashbacks about our time there and they paralyse me.”

“I have been having nightmares.” Tiwonge said.

“Me too.” I said playing with my sleeves.

“Mine are the same every night. I am in my cell again. I always try to get out and fail.” Tiwonge looked down at her feet which were pressed against the legs of the chair she sat on.

“What about you Ipyana?” Reverend Phiri asked.

I told them about Rumbani. How my mind replayed her death in my sleep. Most of us felt guilty about those who had not made it out. Rev. said we were not responsible for what happened to those who lost and didn’t make it out.

“What do you do when you wake up from your nightmares?” Rev asked.

“My Mom calms me down.” I felt embarrassed. I was like a baby being soothed by her mom. “I don’t know what I would do if she wasn’t there.”

“I pray.” Tiwonge said.

Rev turned to face Atupele who was in the chair next to his. “What about you Atupele? What do you do when you can’t sleep?”

“I dance. I know I am perpetuating the Akafula stereotype but dance is helping me through this time. My mind focuses on the different moves and after I sleep from sheer exhaustation.” He wasn’t as scrawny as he was in the HM. He had put on weight. I could no longer see his rib cage. I looked at my thighs. Did I also put on weight in the fortnight I had been home?

Only four people including Rev Phiri had attended the therapy session in person the rest of us just vibed in from our various locations.

I was about to vibe out when Tiwonge said “Hello. How are you?”

“I am okay.” I said. “You?” I was surprised she was speaking to me, her and Rumbani were close. I thought she blamed me for what happened to her friend. “I am sorry about your friend.”

“We all did things we didn’t want to. I am a professional fighter, I didn’t enjoy going into the ring with a teenager even a K’limian.”

“I am glad it’s over.” I mumbled nervously.

“Listen, Aka-rebel is recruiting people to join their cause. Are you interested?” Tiwonge asked.

“I’m no fighter.” I retorted.

“I’m no fighter either but they said they would offer training so I joined.” Atupele said, he was picking snacks from the table behind the chairs they had been sitting on. I almost did not recognise the room. It was the wide room, Aleke Banda had spoken to us in when we first arrived from Vwaza HMC.

“No fighter ey? And yet you were able to take me out in sixty seconds. I don’t know what your definition of a fighter is.” Tiwonge retorted.

An Akafula vibing in from Blantyre spoke, “I joined a day after we got out. I owe those guys my life. I want to help bring down the guys that put us in the HM facility.”

“I will think about it.” I vibed out.

I knocked, then entered into Salifya’s room. She was standing in the middle of the room wearing a work out suit with trainers.

“Sali…”I started then halted when I saw the hollogram of a man standing in front of her. Sali turned to face me.

“Hey Ipyana.” The young man said. His voice sounded familiar.

“Hello.”

“I am Xo.”

“You are the guy who tried to save me from those HMC guys.” He nodded his head. “Thank you Xo.”

“I am sorry I couldn’t get you to safety.”

“At least you tried.” I retorted.

There was a flicker of blue and red neon lights to the left of the room: another hollogram of what looked like a building.

I turned to Salifya. “What’s this?”

“It’s nothing.” She said as she closed it.

“It’s a HMC facility.” Xo said. “When you were gone your sister was looking for you. But we couldn’t find you. So I set up a profile of her on the dark web. We got hired to rescue this girl from the HM facility.” Xo explained that they had a client and what I had seen were schematics to the building they thought the client’s beloved was in. At the end he said something that surprised both me and Sali. “Would you like to come?”

“She can’t. It’s too dangerous.” Sali objected.

“She will be in the pod with me.” Xo argued.

“No. It’s still too dangerous.” Salifya retorted.

“I will park the pod far away like I did last time and come closer when you are getting out.”

“Sali. Let me come. I have been in worse situations.”

Sali put her hands on my shoulders, “Yes you have. And from now on I will make sure you never have to be in a dangerous situation again if I can help it.”

Her and Xo went back and forth till finally she conceded to letting me go if I agreed to stay in the pod and carry a solar blaster with me.

I went on the Aka-rebel website. I was not sure that I would join. I was not a fighter. Rushing into danger was not my thing. But I owed the Aka-rebels. Their cause was noble. I read through their manifesto. The line that stuck with me was “To advocate for the equal rights of all Akafula persons.” I was surprised to find that were three branches that an Aka-rebel newbie could join; Fundraising, military and intelligence gathering. I opted for the last one. They sent a test to me to assess my skills. I spent the whole night taking it. I got a 70% on the test. They did a background check which took a day. At the end I got a message saying I should be prepared to meet them on Friday at a location they would disclose on the day. They told me my alias was Rose Chibambo. I was told everyone used aliases.

I was really tired and sleepy even upto afternoon. I remember Sali coming into my room, and telling me she is going to Mzuzu for a bit. I don’t know if I responded. I was half way through my nsima and red beans when Anganile suggested we go to the beach that afternoon. A part of me did not want to go. But it had been so long since I had swam and I needed a change of scenery.

The crystal blue water enveloped my lower body, the brown sand lightly grazed my feet as the sun kissed my face and shoulders. I missed the sun on my skin. I missed my autonomy. At the H.M when we showered and ate was decided for us. Anganile splashed water on me as she waded into the deeper waters.

“Anganile what are you doing?” I called.

“I am going for a swim.” She replied in a matter of fact tone.

“In your condition?” I gasped.

“Who said pregnant women can’t swim.” She laughed.

Chikondano was trailing closely behind her, from his facial expression I could see he shared my anxieties. He stayed close to her in the waters, holding her close to him when he could. It was funny watching her swim, the waters made her seem bigger than she was. What if she got into labour now? What would happen, would we grab her and take her to the shore. They are water births, but then again this water isn’t sanitary. If that happened would it be the first birth in Lake Malawi? Anganile was floating on her back. The water kept sweeping over her arms. Anganile’s circle tattoos always confounded me. The first was a tree stump, the other was a circle full of trees and something that seemed like a forest. The last was a circle with Kaulimi Mountain inside it. Weeks before my initiation ritual, I mustered the courage to ask my family what their tatts meant. I was too shy to ask Salifya so I didn’t. Anganile told me that she chose the tree stump because it represented strength and being grounded.

“I grew up in an unstable environment. I was scared of my Dad. Amama was always nursing bruises or trying to calm Dad down, so it didn’t leave her with a lot of room to play mother to me. All through childhood I was looking for stability. That’s what this one stands for.” She said pointing at the tattoo closest to her wrists. “In Kaulimi, I had stability and I was grounded.”

“And the strength part…” her index finger was following the circle of the tree stump. “I grew up watching my dad pummel Ama almost on a daily.” Her voice slowed down. “One night, I was in bed pretending to sleep, when I heard Ama scream like she had never screamed before. I rushed out of bed because I thought he was killing her. I saw him. I saw him cut off her two arms in two clean motions he was a surgeon after all. Ama was bleeding from everywhere. Her arms and her legs because he had not only removed her limbs but murdered the child within her.” She squeezed her eyes together and quickly wiped some tears. Her voice was shaky. I gazed down at her duvet covering her bed. “So I am broken, like these lines on a tree stump I am very broken. But I am strong, not because of anything special in me but because of the hope and love God pours me into me through these women here at Kaulimi.” I just listened, my eyes sometimes holding her gaze but most times resting on her bed. I did not know what to say. “The forest in this tattoo represents community. Before Kaulimi, my dad had isolated my mom from anyone close to her so we did not have community. I didn’t have that many friends either because I was scared they would see what sort of person my dad was.” Her fingers traced the embroidery of flowers on her duvet. Each word revealed a scar. How did someone with so much strength bear so many scars? “The last is as you know Kaulimi Mountain. And it’s on my skin because Kaulimi is my home. It is where I have healing, love and family. I know it’s the same for Ama.”

“Oh Chikondano, holding onto to your wife so closely are you afraid she will drown.” Ama teased. Chikondano just laughed. Anganile laughed harder. Then swam away from Chikondano. Without knowing, the lower half of Amama’s arms looked the same as the upper half. Looking closely I could see the difference between her actual arm and the bionic limbs that replaced the limbs that her husband chopped off.

Sali returned from Mzuzu around six that evening. Looking at her eyes, I could tell she was truly contrite. I wanted to go with her. I needed to know who my parents were and where they lay. I knew Ama wouldn’t be pleased. I was relieved when she agreed. To be honest her conditions sounded fair.

We all hurdled in Anganile and her husband’s pod. Aunty Tasokwa’s house was huge and beautiful. We all kept starring at the walls and the furniture when she took us room to room. The food was delicious.

“You say this food has been cooked by the maid-bot 360. I don’t think I can eat anymore.” Ama said pretending to scan her plate. “I don’t trust that version.”

Aunty Tasokwa laughed and retorted. “Don’t eat it then. Starve like I care.”

“I will just eat to be polite.” Ama jested.

Anga pointed her fork to Aunty and then Ama, “These two,” She threw her head back and laughed. I chuckled, reaching for the water jar which was on Sali’s side of the table. Sali passed it to me, with a small smile. I turned my gaze away from focusing on the jar. After desert Aunty Tasokwa pulled Ama aside. I knew they were discussing what she had found on the nano-bot that was inside me. I kept starring at the shut kitchen door waiting for them to come out. Later that night, Ama told me what she had found.

“She told me that it measured your heart rate and monitored other things crucial to your health.” She spritzed her two cornrows as she spoke. “It transmitted these measurements and your location to some computer.” She put the spritz bottle on her bedside. She poured some castor oil in her hand then rubbed it on the ends on her hair. She spoke the next words slowly carrying each syllable with fear and angst. “It had a killswitch.” My heart stopped. They could have killed us whenever they wanted. Just like that. From the way Ama was looking at me I could tell she was thinking the same thing. “I thank the Lord you are home safe.” She said.

I silently entered my covers.

I was going through the second task that Aka-rebel website had sent me. It was a basic files sorting task with some complications. It was supposed to be training before the meeting. I had hit a wall, I was just staring at my screen trying to figure out how to go about my task. The door opened. In came Anganile. When we were alone Ama and I joked that she had reached what Ama called the duck stage of pregnancy. “Her walk is a waddle.” Ama explained.

“There is a play at Ufulu Theatre house tomorrow. I am going, would you like to join me?”

I turned and faced her. I positioned my back to block her from seeing my monitor. “What time is it?”

“It’s at 2 to 5 pm.” She replied.

“Sure.”

I know that Anga was spending her Saturday afternoon in a play so we could have a one on one talk about how I was feeling.

The play was disturbing. It was set in 2007 Democratic Republic of Congo in one of the pygmy societies there. It was a story of a young pygmy girl whose parents were killed by infantries. Her and her little sister were raped by the same infantries. Her grandmother raised them, later on her grandmother was killed by a normate tribe who then ate her corpse while the girl hid. I ran out of the theatre at this point. Half blinded by my tears I made my way into the bathrooms.

“Ipy…” Anganile knocked outside the stall I was in. “Open up.”

I opened the stall.

“That play was upsetting even for me.” She said gently. I grabbed tissue and blew my nose. “I am sorry I brought you here. I thought the story would be something you would enjoy watching. I’ve never seen this play before.” Anganile entered the stall, placed her arms around me, I leaned on her tummy then pulled back scared I was hurting the baby. She moved her hands slowly up and down my back as I wept.

“At the HM facility we were not humans. We were just numbers to them.” I sobbed. “If we didn’t perform they killed us. We were nothing to them.”

“What strikes me the most about that play is it was over a century ago and yet not much has changed for pygmies.” Anganile said solemnly.

She touched her mouth. Her face contorted into a disgusted look. She rushed to the adjacent stall. I heard sounds of vomiting.

“Let’s go get milkshakes.” She said when she recovered. “To wash the taste off.”

“Okay,” I smiled. We exited the toilets into the theatre house’s common area.

“I don’t know how I am going to lose all these calories after I deliver. You wanna know a secret?” a mischievous smile spread on her lips. “I am trying to everyone around me to gain weight with me so we can struggle to lose weight together.”

“Really?” I laughed.