The Happening Girls - Part Two

Being 22, I much knew what getting into intimacy was all about. I didn’t need a dictionary to make an explanation to me. I tried to give myself all the reasons why I didn’t need to sleep with Oga Timo, a man who was the size of my father.

There is one interesting fact about girls and money. Girls will always be girls when it comes to money. Maybe I am wrong, but at the thought of the living shadow I had been, I needed that money to show off especially to those that made my life miserable. I had to show them that I was the happening girl of the time. I shut my eyes and never minded of what was going to happen in the next minute or be it an hour of my life. The other me wanted to just escape and go back to Zomba and live my normal life, but that was one greatest mistake I was going to make. If you were in my position then you would clearly have a view of what I meant.

Accepting to sleep with Oga Timo in exchange with K300, 000.00 was the least I could do. My innocence went along with it on that very night. I had lost my conscience and my pride as a woman. I had tested the better side of life. I had had the chance to get hold of a huge amount of money which I had never held all my life, and there was no countdown for regrets.

Going back to Zomba from Salima seemed like a longer trip. I couldn’t just wait to get in campus and boast. The whole budget plan had already been set out; I needed to change my wardrobe, my hairstyle as well as my diet.

I got myself all sorts of expensive clothes including shoes and bags, make up kits and a hair re-do. I had completely made a transformation that got people wondering. Those who used to laugh at me tried to get closer to build a friendship but I had no room for them. “Everyone deserved to know where they belong and their limits...” that was how I blushed them off. There was no way a pigeon and a dog would ever get to be mates as they are not of the same breed. The only people I got to be close to were Wanga and Pauline; they showed me the way I could swim out of poverty and be a star in no time, and so I considered them real friends.

I became Oga Timo’s little pet as to what he called me. He was giving me lots of money and took me to different places. There was no way I would give up on that rich man. He bought me a laptop worth thousands and a Sony Xperia XZ3 Infinity, the kind of phone I had desired to get ever since I was in my first year. He made me a passport and we flew to South Africa, Angola, Rwanda and Lesotho together. He promised a lot of more international trips than those. He promised me more than my hands could hold, and I was flattered. That was my blesser! I would trade him for nothing. It was my once in a lifetime chance to live such a life. I grew up in misery and there was no way I could die like that. So I started doing some savings for the future.

I had to take a single step back and visited my parents. Whilst my father and my siblings celebrated my success, my mother kept reminding me of the wolves that were out there salivating just to end one’s life. She refused to believe the lies I told her that I was doing a part-time job around town. She insisted on saying that she knew her daughter so well even when she was telling lies. Even when she nearly wept saying I should confide in her of where I was getting the money from, my conscience didn’t beat a bit. I was stable and had nothing to tell her. Who would do so, anyway? Is there anyone out there, so brave enough to tell her mother or even her family that she is making money out of sleeping around with men old enough to be her father? I wasn’t just ready to say anything like that to my family. I only wanted to make them happy and give them hope that there was a chance out there of us to do better.

I left my mother in a sober mood. I didn’t blame her. She was a woman and she knew better. She was aware there were many forces out there that would drag me into doing anything for money. She was also aware that there were hungry men ready to eat out younger girls like me so I didn’t blame her for it all and there was no way I could regret my actions.

I was then in my final year and still doing extremely well in my studies. I had kept the promise of working hard to get to where I wanted. The friendship between Wanga, Pauline and I kept on blazing. We were still like flames and everyone knew us as the ‘happening girls’, jumping from one club to the other, and making weekdays international trips wasn’t really a problem to us.

The only problem arose later. I started having fevers and I felt weak. I had then managed to build a house for my parents and established a poultry business for them to run for the sustainability of the family. That was the least I could offer them for being part of my life but my mother and I were never as close as we used to be. I avoided interacting with her whenever I visited them for the same reasons of finding myself telling her the whole source of my money. I wanted to keep it a secret and a secret it would be.

The last time I remember to have been healthier was just a day after my dissertation defending day. I clearly recall how I collapsed on my way to my room. I felt dizzy, nauseous and had rapid heart palpitations. My whole body got so weak and I couldn’t make a single move. I watched myself fall to the ground. I could hear echoes of people shouting for help to lift me up. When I regained my consciousness I realized I was on the hospital bed with Wanga and Pauline beside me. I didn’t want to be told what had happened for I had a little memory of what went on. That was the beginning of my next chapter of life. I was on admission in the hospital for a month. The only thing the doctors could diagnose me with was a high fever.

When everything got so worse and all breaks in me got loose I was transferred to Queen Elizabeth Central Hospital in Blantyre from The Zomba Central Hospital. Upon getting there I was immediately moved up to the Intensive Care Unit. My condition was in no way better. I only passed urine and stools using the passage tube. What life had I made for myself? Was this what I called happiness? Was this how my life would get to an end? I had a lot of students from my school visiting me; some came in peace and had pity on me but others came to add the pain I experienced altogether with the guilt and shame that had built in so well.

The graduation day was fast approaching and there was no single sign of me getting any better. Tears kept drawing lines on my whole face. Why had I never listened to my mother? Why didn’t I give my conscience a room to save me from this whole agony? Was this how Tiyamike, ‘the happening girl’ was going to cease?

More pain built in when the cause of my sickness was finally known. I had contracted HIV/AIDS out of greed and selfishness. Regrets filled me all over and the only song that came all through my mind was The Kamuzu Barracks’ song ‘Zandiolotseni’. I needed salvation, I needed to repent. I needed the manifesto of the Holy Trinity in me as my end was near.

On that Saturday morning, after getting the Holy Communion and confession and whilst hammering to my favorite sickbed song, I sighed my last breath. With no pains I closed my eyes into the longest deep sleep with tears flowing out  my weary eyes. It was a greater loss to my family including my sponsors. I had just wasted my four years in vain. And then again of all the days, I had just died on my graduation day. That was how I, Tiyamike, ‘the happening girl’ got wasted, roasted and melted.