You See Me

Chapter 2: Enter Lilith

Zimbabwean girls...no actually African girls in general would put up with anything as long as it has money. I hear the excited whispering of the women and girls in the camp. They are hoping that this Thai-Chinese suppose big-shot likes black girls. Their whisperings make me scoff, any guy that specifically likes black girls is a major red flag anyway and I don't like rich boys. Whether they are black, asian or white...they're all entitled assholes. I rap my stick again the Mazhanje tree. The fruit begins to fall and a few knock me on the head. I'm lucky that a snake hasn't fallen on my head before. I feel around the ground for them and put them in my bag. There must be no one back at the village right now which means that I can have a few minutes of alone time. My father is always on my back for being anti-social, but it's like he doesn't know what the term "introvert" is. Another thing is that the girls can be quite bitchy sometimes. They act like jerks making fun of my accent and broken Shona. A large portion of Zimbabwe's population lives abroad so it's possible that there are people out there who are going to have accents that they don't understand. They give me a break more than the other third culture kid because I'm blind. The other kid that grew up in Australia is really given a hard time by the others.

But at least for now I have a chance to be by myself with my mazhanje. The crazy, rich Asian dude coming from Thailand is said to be arriving tomorrow so I have a moment of peace before I have to hear the high-pitched fake laughs that will no doubt accompany anything that that guy says. I find my way to the huts and enter.

"Hey!" a voice yells. It's a deep male voice, a mix of a plummy British accent and a bit of an Igbo ting in it. Must be a Nigerian. Whats a Nigerian doing in my room.

"Who are you guys?" I ask and cross my arms. Did they get misdirected into my room?

"This is my...um hut," another guy says. He also has a British accent mixed with some other intonations that I can't quite place my finger on.

"Actually if you notice there's my reed mat here and my blankets here and also my clothes..."

"So...these blankets are yours?" The Nigerian says. "Where is our hut then?" I roll my eyes.

" I don't know and honestly I don't care but right now I kind go wanted to hang in my hut and I find two male strangers (Well I think that they're two unless the others are inhumanly quiet.) in my hut claiming it's their," I hear one of them sigh melodramatically.

"Look we just arrived here, is it possible to show us where we're meant to be then," the one with the strange British accent says. Great, it looks like I'm talking to the person that I actually didn't want to meet.

"Are you that Asian dude that's supposed to have arrived tomorrow? You have a British accent so I'm assuming that you learned some English etiquette and its' considered rude to be too early," I hear one of the guys suck in his breathe.

"Well I thought that it would be obvious that I'm Asiain the moment that you saw me," the Asian says. What was his name again. I scoff and hold back a laugh.

"You might want to know this now but I'm blind. I thought that would you be obvious when you saw my guidance stick," I lift up my stick and wave it around. By the sounds I'm hearing they probably have to dodge some potential blows.

"Okay sorry for intruding on your space," the Nigerian tells me. "We're getting out," I hear them scuffle out and release some breathe. What if they had been rapists? But then again, this is my hut. I lie down on my blankets, take a bowl and begin to eat my mazhanje. They're actually extra sweet. Just the way I like them...the opposite of my heart. After finishing them I lie down and take a nap.

When I wake up there is someone shaking me on the shoulder. They're telling me to wake up. It's my room-mate Karen or should I say hut-mate?

"It's our turn to collect water today c'mon," she tells me. I wipe the drool off the side of my mouth and get up. Karen is a white girl with an unfortunate name. Who knew that it would only take one cultural phenomenon to make entire generations of women want to change their name? Karen I think acts extra sweet so that she won't be labelled "that white girl", in other words...a Karen.

She holds my hand even though I can feel my way with a stick. "Did you know that the Asian guy is here a day early?" She asks me sounding excited. Strange I didn't think that she was the type that got excited by rich men. "Lily he is so hot! He looks like a celebrity, like he could be in a K-drama...."

"Actually he's Thai-Chinese right? So he would more likely be in a C-drama or Thai drama which both are known to be lucrative markets," I tell her. If I could see she'd probably be rolling her eyes.

"Why must you always be the antagonist?" She asks me.

"Because I was named after a demon queen," I tell her.

And that is true. My parents named me Lilith thinking that it was such a sweet and angelic name without knowing the story behind it at all. Lilith is the alleged first wife of Adam according to some Talmudic scripts. In the stories she refused to submit to him causing her to be banished from the Garden of Eden where eventually they invited her back but she was in love with an angel called Shamiel and that led to her becoming the wife of Lucifer somehow and the demon queen. So basically she was forever labelled a b***h for seeking her own happiness, refusing to be controlled by someone and pursuing someone that truly understood her. That's my type of heroine. It's weird that the word for a female hero is also the word for one of the worst drugs in the world. Feminism aside. It's ironic that my parents, two evangelical pastors would name me after a demon. Maybe that's why I am so impossible.

We reach the well and Karen helps me put my hands on the rope and lower the bucket into the well to collect water. We fill four twenty litre containers with water and begin to carry them back. Karen walks in front of me and leads me with her voice because I can't carry both of my containers as well as my guidance stick. Maybe I should cut her some slack. She's really such an angel. That Asian dude and his possible Nigerian butler kind of put me in a bad mood. I don't like unknown people invading my space.

We put the containers in the kitchen hut where there's already cooking going on. Did I sleep that long or are they cooking early in honor of the Asian billionaire heir. It's not my turn to help with the cooking today thank God so I can sit and read some of my books until the food is ready. Karen helps me put my guidance stick back on and I get one of my books from my suitcase. It's "the Vegetarian" by Han Kang. A literary masterpiece well-worthy of the Man Booker Award. I relate to it a little too much. The protagonist just wants to be able to live in peace and eat her vegetables. But everyone from society to her partner to her family didn't really love her but wanted to own her. Damn, I'm getting too deep again. I might cause myself depression.

I go outside. It's not yet six pm which means that there might still be some light outside.

"What are you reading?" It's the Nigerian speaking to me.

"Oh, the Asian person's butler," I quip. The Nigerian laughs.

"Actually my name is Patrick and I' m not his butler. I'm his friend.

"And I care because..."

"Because I want to apologise for invading your space before. Finding two strange men in your room would have made many people a little angry. Karen explained that you don't like surprises," he tells me. I change my mind. I'm so not being nice to Karen if she's busy giving out information about me to random people that come to the camp.

"I would advice you to not go seeking information about me," I tell him coldly.He laughs.

"You reminded me of Colin Firth's portrays of Mr.Darcy in the 1995 BBC miniseries when you said that," he tells me. I can't help but perk up a little. That's my favourite televised make of one of my favourite books.

"Did Karen tell you that I like Pride and Prejudice?" I ask him. She's probably seen me watch the 1995 version a bazillion times. She'd know that I watch anything that Colin Firth acted in with more zeal than I have whenever we have a sermon at church. The Nigerian laughs.

"You don't trust people do you? Actually I saw you reading and I know that majority of book worms often end up copying the speech of what they read. When I was going through my Enid Blyton craze I called the holiday the "hols" and had an obsession with ginger beer and visiting private islands to look for adventure,"

"I'm guessing that your favourite character was George from the Famous Five," I tell him. I can't help but smile a little. I had loved the Famous Five when I was younger and had been ecstatic when Disney had showcased "Famous Five" as a cartoon showing the descendants of the original five. The Nigerian tells me that I guessed right. He also like the gypsy-like character Barney from the Secret Seven that travelled and sometimes slept in people's pantries.

"They had a way of romanticising homelessness and irresponsible parents," he tells me.

"So, am I just going to call you the Nigerian or do you have a name?" I ask him. He laughs.

"How did you know that I was Nigerian?" He asks.

"Your voice. One develops a keen ear when they have unkeen eyes," I inform him.

"I told you that my name is Patrick..." he begins.

"What's your full name?" I ask him.

"Patrick Daniels," he tells me.

"Why do so many Nigerians have English surnames?" I ask him.

"Because colonisers and during that era if a black person had an English name they were treated better than other Black people," He tells me.

"Wow, such solidarity," I tell him. He laughs again.

"It's often one man for himself in this world," Patrick tells me.

"And yet you accompanied your friend across the world to a foreign country," If I could see I think that he would be nodding his head.

"That's true. But I'm not here for that long. And I would like to know that my friend is in good hands. So can you like look....um watch...um take care,"

"You don't have to pussyfoot around seeing eye words around me," I tell him. "Why are you asking me though?"

"Because since we got here every girls has been swooning over him and ready to wait on him hand and foot, but you pretty much kicked us to the curb that moment we met you. He needs someone like that. Someone who doesn't give a s**t that he's from one of the richest families in the world and is hoping to have to have his baby so that she can earn a child support bigger than what she'll ever earn..."

"Who said that I don't like money?" I tell him.

"Even if you do, you don't suck up to people in order to get it and he needs someone like that right now,"

"Thanks for the offer but I'm not babysitting anyone,"I tell him.

"What if I pay you?" He asks me.

"To be an antagonist to the Asian prince?" I ask him. "Well I could do that, I'd barely even break a sweat,"

"Awesome, how is one thousand dollars per week?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"No actually,"

"Hell yes, I can finally have a vacation," I tell him. "But I know that you're shitting me so I'll just keep this risen euphoria of what I could have possibly done with one thousand dollars in my bank account,"

"Don't underestimate me," he tells me. He goes on his phone and begins to talk to someone in what I believe to be French. I hear a ting on my phone.

"You have received one thousand dollars from Patrick Daniels Account Number XXXX XXXX XXX," my phone assistant tells me. I bulk.

"As you can see I was not shitting you. Please take care of my friend while he's here. Anyway, I think that our food is ready," he tells me. I feel his hand take mine.

"I'm perfectly capable of finding my way myself," I tell him. He laughs a lot. In Shona I believe that the word for someone that laughs a lot is nzenza meaning someone that laughs like a hyena, all the time and unnecessarily a lot. Not a good trait according to Shona. I free my hand and use my guidance stick to find my way.

For dinner it's rice and chicken. Wow, special food for the new guy. Rice and chicken like my mother has told me on multiple occasions when I left meat in my plate is known as a delicacy in Zimbabwe. When she was growing up they only ate chicken on Christmas and that would be their only Christmas present unless their parents had a few extra cents left over for a new dress or blouse.

I finish eating and prepare to help wash the dishes.

"Lilith, have you met Max?" I hear Karen ask excitedly from behind me. "If only you could see his face.He's so handsome," Okay, so this girl has a weakness for hot guys.

"Thanks for the compliment," I hear the Asian guy's, this Max's voice, beside her. I roll my eyes. To my surprise Karen tells me to feel his face and takes my hand and puts them on his face. I take them off like I've put my hand on a hot plate.

"f**k Karen seriously? I can't determine how good-looking someone is by touching them. My hands aren't eyes!" I turn away and scurry away. It takes me five minutes for me to realise that I left my guidance stick behind. f**k again. I don't know where I am.I just walked without determining direction. I stay calm and start to walk in the direction that I think I came from. After thirty minutes of me foolhardy convincing myself that I' m almost there I realise that I have messed up. Why do I have such an ego? This is not the place to get lost in. There are hyenas and lions....okay there are no lions here. What if I come across a body of water and get eaten like by a crocodile. A lion is unlikely to kill me but there are plenty of other things that would be ready to take my life.

I sit down when I feel a tree and sit against it. Damn, there are always myths surrounding the trees in the rural areas. There are certain trees that you shouldn't touch because they are sacred and I might disappear. Shona myths normally make me laugh but in the dark of the night it's not so funny and just way too real.

"Running away because someone put their hands on my face isn't the best idea when you can't see," I hear someone say. It's the Asian guy Max and for that moment I can swallow my pride and say that I am happy that someone found me.

"I don't like my space invaded," I tell him holding back tears.

"Well if I have your consent can you hold my arm and I can lead you back to the village. Everyone is going haywire looking for you. They even called your father to say that you're missing and he's on his way all the way from Harare,"

Oh, s**t, I didn't expect things to escalate that quickly. My father has been trying to get me to come to Harare and then go back to London for weeks now but I've refused. Considering that no trouble has befallen me until now he's let me, but knowing him he'll try to force me back home. I feel Max's arm against my cheek and take it. He helps me get up.

"Are you sure that you won't get lost?" I ask him. He shakes his head.

"My phone uses GPS to get accurate location and map usage," he says. Can't get lost except maybe in the tundra," I nod.

"So you've spent some time in England I guess from your accent," he mentions casually.

"Yes the hotspot for every foreigner from second and third world countries that want better for their children," Ben laughs.

"Well you definitely have the British abrasiveness and dark sense of humour,"

"Why are you here?" I ask him. I feel his muscles tense. That questions makes him uncomfortable. He has a secret. It's a running joke among the suburban kids of Harare that criminals could find refuge in our country and never get caught. Why else would a billionaire choose to come here except...

"My parents are working on some mines along with a Zimbabwean business partner. They thought that it would be good for me to get a feel of rural Zimbabwe because I'll be managing this flagship project and it will mostly be in the rural areas," he explains.

Wow, maybe I am reading too much. I shouldn't have thought that the guy had committed a crime from the word go. I get a huge scolding from the sister in charge when I arrive and Karen gives me some of her biscuits from Germany as an apology for making me touch Max's face without my consent. Okay, so maybe I might be a little nice to her. Those biscuits are delicious.