Chimwemwe got up early and opened his bedroom window. The South African sun invaded his room with full intent. He felt the warm touch of the sun rays poke his back, as he ironed his pants and shirt. He was happy. The spirits had blessed him with great health, a beautiful home and ample amount of money, but out of all the good fortunes, nothing compared to the love of his son Chimo who was asleep in the other room. Chimwemwe took out his worn out black leather loafers and polished them to perfection. He was getting ready to take Chimo out to the cafe in the center of town.
He had just poured some porridge into a bowl, when Chimo entered the kitchen.
“Ah, you are finally up, my boy!” Chimwemwe exclaimed.
His son smiled timidly and made his way over to the table where the warm and steamy aroma invaded his nostrils and caused his stomach to churn wistfully. He gobbled up his breakfast with relish and went as far as licking the bowl dry in the end.
“You have a powerful appetite, Chimo! What am I going to do with you? Soon you will eat everything in this house.” Chimwemwe smiled and stroked the top of his son’s head gently.
Chimo stared at his father with affection, as if wanting to say something back but unable to do so. He slowly lowered his glance.
“Don’t worry, my boy,” Chimwemwe reassured him, “I understand everything that you want to say.”
The spirits had not blessed Chimo with a voice, but over the years his father had learned to understand his emotions and anticipate his answers with such ease and accuracy that watching the two of them could make one believe in telepathy. Chimwemwe cleared the table, prepared Chimo and the two headed out to the town center.
The coffee shop had a small patio under an awning where one could enjoy a drink in the shade, surrounded by plants and several oscillating fans. The waiter recognized Chimwemwe and Chimo and showed them to their usual spot near the wall.
“How are the spirits this morning, Chimwemwe?” the waiter asked.
“They are alight like fireflies in the night.”
“So it’s a good day then?”
“A wonderful day.”
The young waiter smiled and went inside to fetch them their usual order, two bottles of water and one espresso. Chimwemwe crossed his legs and took a sip from his cup. The caffeine permeated through his body and gave him a surge of euphoria. He began humming a song quietly under his breath, much to the enjoyment of Chimo who sat in the adjacent chair. Within the hour customers started trickling in. Two elegantly dressed women made their way into the patio and sat at the table next to Chimo and Chimwemwe. Once served, they began gossiping about a mutual friend and Chimwemwe felt compelled to stop his humming and listen in on the story.
“Did you hear what happened to Zandile?” the first woman asked her friend.
“No.”
“But how did you not hear about it? It’s a very sad thing, indeed. Everyone has been talking about it. She fell in love with the wrong man, I tell you.”
“How so?”
“One year after they got married, he suddenly decided to take off with all their money and go back to his village to marry another woman there.”
“God, poor girl!” the second woman lamented and clapped her hands.
“But wait, it doesn’t end there. It turns out her husband fell in love with the wrong woman, the second time around. I tell you, God doesn’t let these things just pass by. One month after he moved in with her, he found out she was seeing another richer man in the city.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, and what do you think he did? He jumped in his car and drove like a madman to the city to go and confront this man, but I tell you, God doesn’t miss a thing. The husband never made it. The car crashed and caught fire, killing him on the spot.”
“No!”
“And there is more! Now, Zandile did her grieving and buried him but after some weeks she realized she needed to find all the savings that her husband had taken with him before he left. She went to the second woman in the village to ask for her money but she found her depressed and crying. Her rich boyfriend had just dumped her and on top of it, it turned out that Zandile’s husband had buried all the money somewhere for safeguarding. The only problem was that he didn’t tell anyone where.”
“God help them out of this tragedy!” the second woman exclaimed sympathetically.
“Love is a dangerous thing, I tell you. One minute everything is magic, next you find yourself at the edge of a cliff with nowhere to go but down.”
The waiter came by to check on the women and stopped by Chimwemwe’s table to collect his payment. One of the women caught sight of this and something struck her as odd. She alerted her friend who glanced over that way to see what was happening. Upon closer inspection they realized that the waiter had picked up a few round bottle caps from the neighbouring table. The women examined Chimwemwe and Chimo with discreet curiosity. When the waiter came back around, they summoned him and inquired quietly.
“We are curious why you took the bottle caps from that old man sitting at that table over there with his dog on the chair next to him?”
“That’s Chimwemwe,” the waiter stated calmly. “And the dog’s name is Chimo or as he refers to him - his son Chimo.” “His son?” one of the women echoed incredulously.
“He is a poor old man who comes here once a week. The owner takes pity on him and allows him to have a drink for free. Chimwemwe doesn’t have any real money so he pays me in bottle caps. I think he believes they are valuable coins.”
The women looked at Chimwemwe endearingly and smiled. He was sitting peacefully, unaware that he had become the subject of their conversation.
“That’s so sweet of you guys,” one of the women whispered.
“He is a very special person. If you ever have a chance to talk to him about his beliefs, you will be amazed,” the waiter added.
“What do you mean?”
“He believes in the world of spirits and knows a lot about it too. He knows how the world was created and what happens after we die.”
The women looked at each other. One of them crossed herself and threw her friend an uncomfortable look. Both of them were familiar with the religion of the spirits, the ancient theology of their ancestors which had long been abandoned for the Christian faith.
“It’s a good thing you are helping this man because clearly he has lost his mind,” the second woman finally stated.
“He may have but I’ll tell you this, I have never seen anyone enjoy a cup of coffee like Chimwemwe with his dog. The man is truly happy and he always leaves me wondering what it is that he knows that the rest of us don’t.”
“Poor soul,” the first woman replied, unimpressed by the waiter’s pondering. “He’s lost all touch with reality, that’s why he is always happy. Look at him! He loves his dog like a human son, pays with beer caps as if they hold real value and speaks to some imagined spirits. God, help us from ever descending into that kind of darkness!”
“Amen,” affirmed the second woman, “and, God, help him find his way out of it.”
The waiter smiled and excused himself as other customers requested his attention. The women whispered among themselves for a little while longer then got up, put some bills on the table, and walked out of the cafe.
At the other table, Chimwemwe drank the last bit of his coffee and tapped his dog on the head. Chimo had learned to sit completely still on his chair like a human. The waiter stopped by to clear their table.
“I feel very sorry for your grievance, young man,” Chimwemwe said to him.
“Why, what happened?”
“It looks like those two stylish ladies enjoyed their drinks and your services but left you nothing more than some worthless pieces of paper,” Chimwemwe pointed at the banknotes tucked under one of the glasses on the women’s table. “Don’t worry, my boy,” he reassured, “forgive them this time and the spirits shall reward you.”
“I think I will,” the waiter replied.
“They were very distraught over the fate of their one friend who suffered a tragic spell of the evil spirits.”
“What happened to their friend?”
“She imagined there was love between her and a man,” Chimwemwe paused to stroke Chimo’s head, “but love is a cover that hides all shortcomings. I know this very well. You see my Chimo here is a mute and cannot speak but I love him still. He is my son and to me he is a perfect conversationalist.”
Chimo wagged his tail with excitement and licked his owner’s hand.
“Well, I will trust you on this one and will forgive the women this time,” said the waiter and slid the women’s money into his pocket.
Chimwemwe nodded approvingly. The young man was learning the spirit world fast. Left alone, he uncrossed his legs and looked at his dog in contemplation.
“Eh, Chimo, how lost are people these days! They imagine love in the wrong places and assume value in some worthless pieces of paper. Did you see how they crossed themselves? That is the mark of their contrived God. They have forgotten about the spirits that roam our land.”
The dog sensed his owner’s enthusiasm and gave out a subdued bark, while tapping his paws on the chair, as if marching in one spot.
“Ah, Chimo, do not judge them. Poor souls, as I pity them, I also understand them. What they are doing is not so far in essence from our practice. They have imagined their own myth but we cannot claim much superiority, as we too see things the way we want to. What is real and what is imagined only the mind decides and the heart justifies.”
Chimo gave out another gentle bark and taped the top of the table with his paw in agreement. Chimwemwe smiled and prayed for the benevolent spirits to find the two women and deliver them from the world of darkness.
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