Monday, October 12, 2009

Putting on Faces

This is the story that won Gothataone Moeng first place in the short story category of the 2009 Bessie Head Heritage Trust competition. Enjoy!


Putting on Faces

It was her screams that woke me; pure, unadulterated terror in her voice.
“Let him go! Please let him go,” she was screaming. I stared at her, transfixed and feeling strangely betrayed. Patricia had warned me, I suppose. She had said,
“A Zimbabwean? To look after your baby? Ausi, are you sure?”
Then she told me all the horror stories: about how one Zimbabwean maid had absconded back home, leaving a six-month old baby alone, after stealing virtually everything in the house. She repackaged and retold her favourite story of the Zimbabwean maid who had put somebody’s baby in the oven after months of mistreatment and no pay.
“Just imagine, what kind of person roasts a baby to punish the mother?”
But my desperation convinced her; my three months of maternity leave were slowly drawing to an end. I needed someone. She had contacts; her brother had a Zimbabwean girlfriend who had an aunt whose daughter badly needed any kind of work.
She had seemed like a nice, respectable lady when I met her at Patricia’s. She was young, slim, and had dark skin much like my own. She was clean; she didn’t stink of stale sweat like most of her compatriots with their cheap Chinese clothes and the red-brown dust clinging to their ankles.
She sat comfortably on Patricia’s new sofas, and when my tongue refused to wrap itself around her Ndebele name, she laughed my attempts off and said,
“Call me Auntie.”

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