ANGLE/SIDE
Distant and warm. And sweet.
I can see the green of a small but stretched out pavilion. And overlooking the pavilion is a field of yellow-green but filled with the occasional stabbing,sticky, yellow, triangular thorn. This is where the juniors of Broadhurst Primary School in Botswana enjoy the break time. With a few brisk minutes chewing on sandwiches, crunching Simba potato chips, and slurping away at juiceboxes. It is a time of joy and childhood.
Today, or yesteryear, when that memory was today and so clear and vivid as it happened right there and then, is Valentine's Day. Oh, but what is love to a mere child of grade 2? But Tawanda Mulalu, the hopeless romantic he was then, and would grow up to be was unphased by his rejection by a girl in reception. Whom uttered a disappointing "eeew!" once Tawanda told her he liked her. It was awkward age and time and moment, and is frequently brought up still.
But the poor little child in his little clothes had his little heart within and refused to yield to the little world his little soul. He walked up to the new girl. So beautifully dark was her hair and her eyes. Her soft young cheekbones glistened whenever she smiled, but today she smiled not. This was when Tawanda approached and sat next to her friend, but also the one he 'liked,' as that was the word used. 'Like' and all of its other forms invited giggling and blushing from boys and girls alike.
Like.
Yes he liked her. He did. He did. And he would profess his liking without fail! Oh he would do a little bounce in a little victory and in a little shuffle in his little uniform he would leave with a little smile and little gleam in his little eyes with a little happiness! He would succeed! He would indeed.
So they too, the new girl he liked so dearly and the boy. Tawanda Mulalu and the pretty girl of new.
She wore the typical blue-white checkered dress. And it flowed and sparked on her body. How, Tawanda did not know, or need to know. And they sat, as friends do. She still, unsmiling did not mind his presence, as friends don't mind each other. Tawanda gathered his courage and spoke with the spirit of a poor soul imbued with the wound of Cupid's dreaded and loved arrow. He gathered his courage.
"Hey Mariam? Can I ask you something? Will- Will you be my Valentine."
He asked so sweetly and softly, burdened with the risk of his endeavor. The sugar on his tongue gave his words the feel of candy.
And she, still stoic and now rather confused, but also not particularly surprised or interested asked apathetically, unknowingly hurting the poor youthful soul an inexplicable, unexpected question to match his.
"What's a Valentine?"
And the world of this poor, poor seven year old boy folded into two like paper. And his little heart sagged with the heaviness of lead, dragging his small body into the pits of post-toddler despair.
He simply said, with his hurt hidden well;
"Its okay. Nevermind."
That was that. The end.
The boy, Tawanda would later meet another girl in another school, but then he kept his 'like' hidden and never revealed 'till her returned to Broadhurst and met Fifi. Which actually worked out due to the efforts of a then ten-year old Geneva. But oh, it would end, and that poor fool Tawanda would return to the girl who did not know what a Valentine was.
And he failed in horrible misery. Poor lost soul Tawanda , the romantic dreamer with gentleman ideals of a now dead society would find peace only in his work. As he would continue in the adventures of primary school Science.
"WHAT A FINE DAY FOR SCIENCE!" he would exclaim with the vigour and urgency of Dexter of Dexter's Laboratory. He was lost in love but found in science.
But a ray of light in the form of a younger Tlhalefo. The girl he once knew from the days of the other girl in the other school. Tlhalefo used to give him that rather cruel stare. But times changed and four years after the cruel stares he would chase her up the stairs. And then chase her again and again and again until finally... Oh but that is another story for another day friends. A story rather long and rather bittersweet.
For now Tawanda falls in and out of pathetic teenage hormonal induced 'love.'
Yes, friends for LOVE is the new word. The giggles and blushes still come with this word as with 'like.'
But LOVE is shallow just as it is deep. It is happy as it is sad. It has meaning and is meaningless.
Tawanda, shining dreamer, surprising grade-skipper has left his life behind for life anew!
And he has shed a year off his childhood too!
Oh friends but what he has left behind is an even sadder story.
Friends. Beautiful friends with glossy faces. They are, they were, they are wonderful.
He misses them dearly.
But one stands clearer than the others.
She was shorter than most. But had a fancy smile and glistening hair and amber skin...
She was his girl and he was her girl. He remembers that day at the art-room so clearly now.
And the smiles in the science room.
And playing with her hair in THAT scene in drama.
If he could, he would cry. But the poor boy cannot feel. Or maybe he feels too much? No. Far too little. Failing to give even his friend Amar advice with a certain issue with a certain variable. What is the value of 'x?'
Of course he would not cry. For who is he? A boy. What does he know of love? A mere boy. He has not yet felt any romantic love... for he is a boy. Or in small quantities worthless of tears? Either way...he's a dry well that never had any water in the first place. Oh well... *writer sniggers*
I remember.
I remember everything.
The art room. The science room. And of course THAT scene in drama.
But of course, it always reminds me of that final paragraph of The Great Gatsby.
"It eluded us then, but that’s no matter — tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther.... And one fine morning —"
"It eluded us then, but that’s no matter — tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther.... And one fine morning —"
But there is no fine morning for me. At least not for now.
You seemed to understand when I told you at the end of last term that things would "only get worse." I refused to do anything about it. You did. End of story.
Yet...
No.
And of course that picture of you in my head...
No.
And maybe the picture of me in your head...
No.
And I...
No.
And you...
NO.
*Sigh* I think its time I did my maths. I got a Trigonometry test on Monday.
And you...
NO.
*Sigh* I think its time I did my maths. I got a Trigonometry test on Monday.
"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."
