[2016] Rubbing Stones Read online

  Katura stood her ground when her brother started down the stairs.

  “Katura, weren’t you listening? If you go in there again you’ll be arrested. That man gave us a break, but he’s not giving us a second.”

  “A break? He’s keeping Tafadzwa. He’s got no right!”

  “Are you six years old? Do have any idea why Mom and Dad left this country? He’s got no right? Katura, we have no rights. No one around here has rights. And that guy was real clear that if we go in there acting like we’re family, we’ll never leave either.”

  Tears were streaming down Katura’s face.

  “Look, we don’t even know if he’s in here. They could have taken him anywhere.” He stepped back up to her level and reached out his hand to wipe her face.

  She jerked her head back. “He’s all alone and they think he’s a murderer. So you’re just going to leave him? That’s your plan?” She was glaring at Japera. “Because you’re afraid for yourself? You even denied you were his brother.”

  Japera stared at her, his hand still raised in the tender gesture she had recoiled from. He lowered his arm slowly but kept his eyes locked on hers.

  “You’re right, Katura. I don’t have a plan yet.” His voice was quivering. “But I will make a plan, and if that doesn’t work, I will make another, and another, and another until I get Tafadzwa out.”

  Katura had never seen such an expression on her brother’s face.

  “I’m so sorry, Japera.” Her voice shook. “I don’t mean to put this all on you—we’ll plan together, that’s why I came, in case it wasn’t simple. I’ll—”

  She stopped when they heard a loud commotion inside the station. It sounded like a half-dozen men moving quickly toward the door. Japera grabbed her hand and they flew down the stairs, rounding the corner into a narrow alley that twisted back and forth into a labyrinth of open market stalls that seemed to stretch for miles. He darted through the crowds, jerking Katura as he changed direction abruptly. She found it almost impossible to predict his moves, but it was important to do whatever it took to not be separated. She forced herself to go somewhat limp in her upper body, to be pulled along as effortlessly as possible, keeping her legs moving at his pace.

  Then finally, suddenly, he stopped. They were in an alley that branched in several directions on both sides. He headed into one of the stalls and collapsed breathless on a pile of rugs. There were large hanging tapestries shielding them from the crowds.

  “We’ll stay here until things settle down,” he said.

  The shopkeeper and his wife descended upon them. They brought over one piece after the next, discarding them in a pile when Japera showed little interest. Katura admired each selection and complimented the handiwork, but her politeness was not worth their time as it become clear they weren’t buying. Eventually the owners just left them alone and sat at the other end of the stall talking to each other or greeting the occasional passerby. The couple seemed to keep the shoppers away from the corner where Katura hid with her brother. She crouched below a thick rolled carpet when a middle-aged woman begun to wander toward them. The owner called to the woman. He held up a particularly well-made, but small piece, but did not move toward her. It required the shopper to change direction.

  What would she say if someone approached? If questions were asked? How could her answers not lead her and Japera back to the police station?

  But perhaps they weren’t the first to take refuge in this particular stall. She watched the seeming ease with which the owners managed their space and the movements of others. She was baffled. Alliances were enigmatic. Maybe the stories weren’t that important to these merchants who were just trying to scrape together a life here. It fit both their needs to not draw undue attention.

  After an hour, the troops of police that had marched past at regular intervals began to dwindle. Katura thanked the shopkeeper’s wife as she and Japera emerged. The woman looked past her and turned away, as if she’d never seen her.

  They drifted from stall to stall, feigning interest in the local trinkets or food items on display, always keeping an eye down the long aisles for any sign of the police. Occasionally they got a glimpse of the men in dark blue uniforms with semi-automatic rifles slung casually over one shoulder. Katura and Japera moved deeper into the maze of shabby booths, hiding within the throng. By nightfall the thinning crowds made their situation more precarious. They needed to venture back toward the jeep.

  “Stay close,” Japera said, “and let me look first around the corners.”

  Not being familiar with the sights and sounds of Victoria Falls, they weren’t alarmed by the peculiar glow they saw as they approached the area where the jeep was parked. It wasn’t until they rounded the last corner, a safe two hundred feet from the police station, that they realized the glow was a fire. It was their father’s jeep that was burning.

  CHAPTER 5

  “Knock lightly,” Japera whispered.

  Katura had just raised her fist to the back door of the small, unobtrusive stucco house. She hesitated and glanced around the backyard. All was dark and silent behind her, but she could hear talking inside. She knocked once, too softly, then again just a little louder. The voices inside stopped. She looked at Japera and he nodded. She knocked again. Nothing.

  Japera pounded his fist on the door. Katura watched the neighbors’ houses for lights. None came on despite the late-night silence of the neighborhood. All noise seemed to echo throughout the street. She scanned the houses again and now saw the changes—figures moving across the windows, closed curtains pulled back ever so slightly. Suddenly she heard movement once again inside—someone was coming. Whoever it was stopped just on the other side of the door.

  “We’re looking for Mr. Sibanda, Zuka’s father,” Japera whispered loudly at the door. “We’re Tafadzwa’s brother and sister.”

  “I can’t help you,” came a muffled voice. “I don’t know your brother, sorry.” They heard footsteps moving away.

  “Wait,” yelled Japera. He pounded on the door. “We can either do this quietly or all your neighbors will hear the business we have with you. Your choice.”

  There were muffled voices inside the house, an argument. Five minutes later the door opened four inches. A thin man in his mid-fifties with a closely cropped beard and small, round glasses peered over their shoulders, then rushed them inside. He closed the door, fastened two deadbolts, and led them into a dark, narrow room. He motioned for them to sit down and turned on the table light next to his large recliner—too large for his small frame. He stared for several minutes at Japera, then Katura.

  Japera broke the silence. “We need to understand what you know about the arrest, Mr. Sibanda.” He nodded his head respectfully.

  The man remained silent. He stroked his face.

  “We know our brother went to a rally with your son,” Japera continued. “We know they’ve been accused of shooting the chief of police.”

  Katura studied the man sitting in front of her. Her mother had said he was a teacher, yet his silence was so unlike her own father’s manner.

  Japera stood and paced the room. It was unlike him to raise his voice, so when he turned and spoke louder than was necessary for this small living room, she startled.

  “Our brother would not kill anyone,” he said.

  “Of course not,” the man said softly. He sat back in his chair.

  “Of course not? Are you mocking us?” Katura asked. “We know our brother is not a murderer, he’s not involved in politics here. The only reason he would’ve been at that rally is because your son took him.”

  The man had turned toward Katura at her outburst, his face expressionless. Now he let out a quiet laugh under his breath before he spoke.

  “Of course your brother didn’t kill Captain Kagona.”

  “You said you didn’t know Tafadzwa,” she said. “Why are you sure?”

  “Because Captain Kagona’s own men killed him.”

  “What?” Katura and Japera
spoke in unison.

  “Has your car been searched a few times since you’ve been in this country?”

  They glanced at each other.

  “As I thought,” he said. “The MDC doesn’t have guns, we couldn’t have killed him, and they know it. So even if your brother was part of our party, even if he were stupid enough to try to take out the police chief, he wouldn’t have had the means.”

  “But why would Kagona’s own men do it?” Japera sat on the edge of the sofa.

  Katura shook her head and looked to her brother.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” she said. “At the station they made it quite clear that their chief was greatly honored.”

  “Everyone honors the dead, there’s no risk in that,” Mr. Sibanda said. “He probably was liked by some, maybe even most of his men, but he’d made enemies in Harare, and that’s where it counts. The government can always find a few hungry cops who’ll do whatever they want for the right price.”

  “But—”

  “Look, young lady, Kagona had been warned. The authorities were tired of these rallies outside the Kingdom.”

  “The—?”

  “— Kingdom Hotel—it’s the most elegant place in Vic Falls—too public, too much in view of international eyes. Kagona couldn’t squelch the open opposition, so they’ll get someone who can.” He motioned to his water glass, asking without words if Katura would like something.

  “What does any of this have to do with our brother?” she said.

  “Or your son?” Japera asked.

  Mr. Sibanda got up and went into the kitchen. When he returned, he sat down in the same slow, methodical way their father did before he gave one of his famous, poignant speeches—one in which Katura always felt she had to hang on to every word regardless of content.

  “That group of boys—except your brother, of course—was known to be from MDC families. They were taken as a message, it would have happened without the shooting. It’s a cat and mouse game. The cat doesn’t really want to kill the mouse, because then there’d be nothing to toy with. Those boys aren’t the real threats anyway. The police want to send a message to their families, to us—show that they’re the ones in power and can hurt or not hurt their loved ones. But when the killing occurred there had to be a killer, and it certainly wasn’t going to be one of their own.”

  Japera moved over to the seat next to him and leaned forward, his hands clasped in front of him.

  “What I really want to know from you,” he said, “is if you can help us get our brother out. As well as your son, of course.”

  Mr. Sibanda removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I suppose you could try to get help from Senator Nyabe. He’s a good man, MDC.” He nodded his head, as if in agreement with himself. “He has influence and would be sympathetic, a family man himself, and—”

  “Enough!” A man in his late twenties had emerged from the back room. “Nyabe won’t help them.”

  Katura looked back and forth between the two men. Their features were the same, but the younger man was taller, well built, and much more handsome.

  “Zuka!” she said. “You’re out? But what about…”

  Japera got up suddenly and began pacing. He stopped at the far end of the room, then turned to address the father.

  “So, you got your own son out with your connections and left my brother in to take the rap?”

  “Senator Nyabe could only do so much. He was beaten after he helped with Zuka’s release. Right outside of the House Chamber, for God’s sake.” He was looking down at his hands.

  “And now he’s going to risk his life for my brother?” Katura raised her voice.

  “He’s a good man, he might still be able to—”

  “—do nothing. He’s weak. Powerless.” Zuka stood over his father, something that would not have been tolerated in Katura’s household. “It is beyond working with this system.”

  “We have been over this many times.” Zuka’s father looked up, his eyes narrowed. “It’s slow, you must be patient. Yes, for one son free, ten more remain, but I could not let you sit in there, things would have happened. Martyrs get forgotten, or worse. My friends have risked so much for you, and this is the thanks I get.”

  “Your friends, your powerful friends. They participate in a system that gives them no voice.”

  “Change is possible, Zuka. It comes one vote at a time. We must work to get more of our party in—”

  “They will never have a voice.” As he said it, Zuka pounded his fist on the table. “The system is corrupt. You said yourself, he was beaten outside the chamber.”

  Father and son glared at each other.

  “My brother. I am here about Tafadzwa,” Japera said. “He has no value to you as another innocent martyr. You have plenty.”

  “Zuka would never get anyone arrested on purpose,” Mr. Sibanda said. “That is not our way.” He glanced at his son, who was studying Japera.

  “Maybe I can help,” Zuka said. “But it will be risky.”

  “Whatever it takes.”

  Zuka laughed. “You’ve been away, safe. You have no idea what it might take.”

  “When you justify the means, you become just like them, Zuka.” The old man rose and came close to his son’s face. “You are no different.”

  Zuka kept his eyes on Japera and said nothing. Mr. Sibanda motioned for Japera to sit next to him on the couch.

  “Japera, where’s your father? I had thought he might come.”

  “Father is no longer in politics. He teaches now.”

  Katura sat back in her seat. No longer in politics?

  “And even his own son could not bring him back?” Zuka sat motionless. “I guess he is not the man of the legend.”

  Katura studied the two men. Is Tafadzwa being used by these men to get to her father? She glanced at the door with deadbolts. “Japera? I think—”

  “We need a plan.” Japera rubbed his hands together. “Let’s run through all our options.”

  “Every road has its dangers.”

  “Go on,” Japera said.

  Katura had to get him to look at her, to signal her alarm. “We could try another MDC legislator.”

  Japera faced forward, intent on Zuka.

  Zuka turned slowly toward Katura, his eyes narrowed and the edges of his mouth twisted.

  “What?” Katura was almost yelling. “One got you out.”

  “Katura? He’s trying to help us. Please?” Japera lifted his hand for her to stop. “I’ll handle this.”

  Zuka nodded at Japera.

  Like he knows me. Like he knows I’m a pest. Katura looked back and forth between her brother and Zuka. Was she reacting to being displaced as Japera’s right-hand collaborator? In the moment of Tafadzwa’s crisis, maybe her concerns weren’t justified, maybe she was just being selfish.

  She turned to Mr. Sibanda. “Could I bother you for some water?”

  He seemed more than happy to accompany her to the kitchen. Four glasses sat on the counter, and he filled them from a nearby bottle. The room was neat and clean, not cluttered with vegetables, pots, and pans like the kitchen at home, which always seemed to be messy with the preparation of the next meal. These men must not be into cooking much. She handed one of the glasses to Mr. Sibanda and took the other three back into the living room. Japera and Zuka stopped talking as she entered.

  Japera smiled at her and took a glass. “So, as I was saying, if the MDC had proof that the captain’s death was an inside job, they’d have already gone public to discredit the ruling party.” He started pacing again. “And Tafadzwa would have been shown to be innocent.”

  “Which is why we need to do this differently,” Zuka said.

  “Your different ways are too dangerous,” his father said. “I can’t promise you protection any longer.”

  “I don’t need your protection, never asked for it.”

  “Your mother—”

  “My mother lived in your world, old man—that world is over.” />
  Mr. Sibanda stood over his chair a moment. He made no eye contact with any of them. Before Katura could get his attention, he was gone. He slammed the door behind him.

  “We need to go to The Cave,” Zuka said after several moments of silence.

  Japera glanced over at him, then drank down his water in one gulp.

  “It’s a bar, a hangout for MDC. The problem is, you’re not in the party, but those guys know a lot about these things and might be able to help.”

  “But wouldn’t showing up at an MDC hangout seal our fate?” Katura scooted herself closer to her brother. “If we were seen, we wouldn’t be able to deny affiliation very convincingly.”

  “She’s right,” Zuka said. “Probably a bad idea.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flask, raised it to Japera, then poured the honey brown liquid into his empty glass.

  Japera took a sip and smiled at Zuka. He then took a large gulp before turning back to his sister.

  “Face the facts, Katura.” His face flushed for a moment as he took in a deep breath. “Our fate, or at least Tafadzwa’s, is already sealed. What other options do we have? Let him get hanged for murder? We can at least listen to these guys.”

  Katura’s lower lip began to quiver. She looked away from him.

  “Where is this place?” Japera asked.

  “There’s no signs or address. And they won’t let you in without a known member to vouch for you.” He raised the flask to his own mouth and poured.

  “Tonight?”

  Zuka nodded. “I’ll meet you at Thabani’s around nine. He needs to go with us. We may need his skills.”

  Japera finished his drink and signaled Katura to follow.

  CHAPTER 6

  Jane winced and shielded her eyes from the sudden onslaught of the bright African sun. It contrasted sharply with the past thirty-two hours she’d spent inside stuffy airplanes and crowded terminals since leaving San Francisco International. She tried to shrug off her exhaustion by inhaling deeply—the warm air was a welcome relief to her lungs after so long in an air-conditioned environment. She scanned the landscape beyond the runway.