MUSIC NIGHTS
BY ZWERE EVANS
On normal days, retiring at 10 pm
was one of Oprah's joyous moments. Her body never let her get late on resting
it on her extra normal days as she called them. She would joyously be tired and
retire after her supper. In this neighborhood night and day were
undistinguished. Oprah was used to the sounds of music from numerous alcohol
joints that had surrounded them. The loud chattering of the drunkards and angry
prostitutes made it feel like home. She would never survive without the feeling
she had grown up in.
Oprah, a 19 years old girl born
from Nyaganja, a popular prostitute who had gained recognition back in the days
and had mothered six children from different men, amazingly called her first
child Oprah. Nyaganja had thought of the name as a power she gave her daughter.
"Always think like Oprah my child," she would tell her daughter,
Oprah. Even though Oprah never knew the Oprah story, her mother could not tell
her for she also didn't know.
“What was it about Oprah mama?” She would ask Nyaganja.
"I don't know my child I was only pregnant then and a certain seemingly educated young man had spent a night in this house. He looked at the pregnant me and swore he wasn't going to do anything with me. But I needed the money so I coaxed him to spend the night in my bosoms. As the sun rose, he told me I could not raise a child in chaos. I said 'oh yes, I will raise all my children here. He told me only a girl like Oprah could survive this place and I wanted you to survive my dear.”
These words would always play in Oprah's head when she
retired to her bed on normal days.
A normal day meant no dance rehearsals for Oprah. She would not be tired to get to bed early so she would stay awake to check everyone's school progress. Being the only girl she took care of five brothers who were of smaller age while Nyaganja went to fend for her children. Oprah had dropped out of school in grade 11 and pursued her dreams of being a dancer. It had not been an easy choice as she was always being reminded of how she would walk in her mother's footsteps with her dreams. This had forced Nyaganja to stop Oprah from all her dance dreams. But a parent like her would never have full control of her children as she was never home.
It was merely past 10 pm and Oprah had thrown herself in bed. With eyes closed, she imagined herself almost breaking her bones on the huge stage with a cheering cloud. It went on quicker and quicker and almost like she could fly, her body barely on the ground and she flew but this time it was slow. Something slowed her, her pace peaceful, enjoyable, strange, and new. She opened her eyes. It was music. It had changed. It was new, strange, quiet, and peaceful. It was English. It was soothing. She liked it. It took control of her soul, her body, her mind. It brought rest to her. She slept.
In the youngest of the night it became violent, sad, terror,
furious, it scared her peaceful soul and she woke up. The wooden clock on her
wall indicated it was 2:59 am.
"It’s 2:44 am,” she said as she turned to the other side to continue her sleep. Her clock had always been 15 minutes behind and Oprah never had time to reset it. She fancied the time gifted to her by one Rasta who was known for his art of wood. He had asked her what she wanted as a farewell from him.
"A clock," she said. "I always want to be on time for my dance rehearsals." "Then your clock will be 15 minutes behind. That will ensure your punctuality," he told her.
On the extra normal days, she would forget that the clock
was 15 minutes behind. Oprah would exhaust everything just to get at the
rehearsals on time and she would be the first at the place. On normal days, she
would always remind herself the clock was 15 minutes behind. It made her laugh.
"Fix my bed, Oprah, I want to sleep,” Nyaganja was back
from her night wanderings. It was past 5 am and Oprah knew it was time to wake
up and warm her Mother's water so that she baths after resting.
She and her mother had shared the same bed in their one-bedroom ramshackle house. The 5 boys stacked themselves on the other larger bed. Her mother would sleep only in the morning and she would later wake up, shower, and go to her daily duties only to return the next morning. The children were used to Nyaganja's movements as it fed their stomachs to a full.
"I brought breakfast for you and your siblings in the larger container that is in the blue plastic bag. All you have to do is heat it," Nyaganja told Oprah.
It was time to wake all the boys. One for the dishes left overnight, the other for the sweeping of the compound, the older one for the mopping of the house, and the youngest for the lighting of a fire. This had been their daily routine. Oprah mothered the 5 boys beyond Nyaganja's expectations. It made her boastful of her daughter. It was hard to raise all her kids among prostitutes and drunkards but she swore never to mother a prostitute or a drunkard.
Doors from the other houses opened on yet another morning
when Oprah would be reminded of a life she will live to witness every day. Men
fixing their trousers as they headed back to where they resurrected. Some men
leaving with only their underwear as they were unable to fully pay their dues,
some would leave promising to be back when night falls and some arose from the
dusty ground they had slept all night as a result of the drunkardness. Some
would never leave without quarrels and dirty words. It would take the women
dragging their trousers at a length so they pay their dues.
Oprah had always instructed the 5 brothers to close their
ears so they never get to hear the dirty and ugly words from the mouths of
angry mistresses. The boys had always been obedient but Oprah had a fear they
would one day choose to listen to all she had kept them from listening.
"His pocket suddenly runs dry whenever it's time for him to pay up for all the work he put me through all night," spoke angrily Oprah's friend who had decided to become a sex worker when they both dropped out of school. Oprah and her friend had been best friends with dreams to finish school but their parent's paths made their reputation labeled as born prostitutes. Learning got hard when they got in grade 11 and everyone bullied them from being prostitutes. Even the teachers would make them examples of outrageous acts because of where they were resurrected. Since then, Oprah dedicated her time and energy to dancing while her friend Maria joined her mother's work.
"You should stop complaining to me if you are just going to let him come to you next time. This is the fifth time you complain of his hardware pocket and yet you countlessly let him come to you,” Oprah told her friend.
"But there was a bad market yesterday. You know Sundays
are dry because people have to go to their works on Mondays. I had no money on
me so I had to accept his offer. ", she told Oprah.
"You are right Maria. Yesterday was dry. You can't imagine I spent the whole night with Ophiri for free," Maria's neighbor agreed with her. "Which Ophiri?" Oprah surprisingly asked. "The same Ophiri that plays music for Gogo Mvula's bar; he came in around 9 pm and I had no choice but to let him enter because I am not used to sleeping alone.”
"Then who was playing music last night? “ Oprah asked. "I seriously do not know but I am certain it wasn't Ophiri. Him and I worked the whole night and he left just an hour ago," the neighbor answered.
"Why are you asking about the music Oprah?" Maria asked. "Did you not listen to last night's music Maria? It was strange. Like never before. I thought Ophiri had upgraded from his ever noisy music but now I know it was not him playing the music.," she told her friend.