Death of a Girl

Victoria Wetsho was driving on a long dirt road in Palapye when her cell phone rang. She was coming from her grandfather’s farm 50 kilometers outside Palapye. Her last destination would be Mahalapye, a village 43 kilometers away. It was late on a Sunday afternoon, and on her left the sun was dying. Slowing down, she fumbled the cell phone from her handbag which was on the short gun seat and swiped the screen to answer. ‘Hello’ she said. ‘Where are you?’ ‘I’m coming from grandpa’s farm. What’s going on?’ ‘It’s about your friend Arona. Get here as soon as you can.’ Darkness was closing in, and by then she was off the dirt road, driving past the gas station on the left, and getting onto the A1 highway towards Mahalapye. She looked at the fuel gauge which indicated she had enough fuel to drive at least another 100 miles. Pulling over by her parent’s gate, her brother’s two dogs, Manny and Mandy, came wagging their tails and wiggling their entire bodies. Even though they seemed always happy to see her, Victoria was terrified of dogs. When she was fourteen years old, her parents discovered that she had cynophobia. Systematic desensitization led her to exposure therapy when she was sixteen years old. The methods were not a hundred percent effective, but they did help her to some extent. At twenty years old, her brother Daniel still found it funny that his sister had a fear of dogs. When she finally moved out of her parent’s house, the debate about having dogs in the homestead was over. Daniel would finally have the dogs he had always wanted as a child. Victoria waited by the gate to make Daniel dealt with the dogs before she could go in. She was driving her father’s 1995 Toyota Tacoma which was sky blue in color. Her father had surrendered the truck to her when she was 18 years old and she has never let it out of her sight since. Inside the house, Victoria found her parents in the lounge watching the 7pm news bulletin. Greeting them, she sat on the sofa that had been there all through her childhood. ‘Tea?’ her mother asked, and Victoria shook her head. ‘Beer?’ her father asked, and she smiled. They all laughed. The old man dashed through the lounge towards the dining room where a large grey fridge stood and came back a minute later with two St Louis beers in his hand. He handed her the other bottle and sat back down. ‘What’s going on Mama?’ Victoria asked after taking a swallow of the freezing cold beer. ‘I spent most of my day at Mma Marua’s place today. Her daughter: your friend has been rotting in her bedroom for two days now. Nobody knew she was back home until today, when the reek of rotten flesh was unbearable.’ “I am sorry child, there is no easier way to say that.”           “My God!” Victoria cried. “I wasn’t aware that she was back here!” “Nobody knew, her mother says there was no note. She thinks you might know something, Vic, I want you to go over there, see if you can help with anything.” “Okay mama.” “We were just about to have dinner, join us before you go.” The old woman said. “I can’t eat now, mama.” It was a ten-minute drive to Arona’s home. Victoria drove slowly through the pools of water following the recent rains. The night was still and dark, even darker on account of the cloud cover. The only sounds audible were of dogs barking in the distance, and the Tacoma splashing rainwater on the potholes as it made its way through the starless night. The air was warm, and the Tacoma windows were drawn to let some air in. At the Marua residence, a bonfire was lit by the Kgotla just outside the main gate. Old men sat there in their traditional cowhide chairs and talked wise. No need to greet them, it was late, and the fire was not large enough to show who was who. She walked through the gate and followed the walkway. There was another bonfire just ahead, this one belonged to the women. She listened to them chat without serenity and she knew they were in lament. Victoria went ahead to the main house, where somebody had led her to Mma Marua. Sitting down next to the old woman, their eyes met, and Victoria would have sworn she had never ever seen so much pain. Mma Marua was never quite a happy woman for as long as Victoria remembered. She took over taking care of Arona after her daughter died. Arona was only fourteen years old. Old age had not ravaged Mma Marua yet, she was a strong woman, strong enough to accept the loss of a daughter and a husband, strong enough to raise a troubled teenager who was failing dismally to deal with a loss. Arona was never the same after her mother died of suicide, got even worse when her father was not interested in raising her, and was battered when her grandfather died. Life was an emotional roller coaster for her. They say pain changes people, it sure as hell changed Arona. As a teenager she fought depression, therapy clearly did not work, and what she became in the end was not recognizable to anybody who knew the real her. Victoria came in and became the friend, the sister and the therapist, but even then, nothing changed. In the end, Arona got in a circle of bad people and became exactly like them, or worse. That night Mma Marua begged Victoria to try and find some information, anything at all that could give her some peace. She left the Marua household with a screaming and confused mind. She knew she’d find a remedy over a drink, so she drove to the Countrystar bar. Her father would kill her if he knew, but for the first time in her life, she was willing to go against rules. Trouble had brewed, and she was smack in the middle of it. The Countrystar bar looked different. She noticed it had gone under renovation. It no longer looked like a haven for dangerous thieves. Not that her father would be impressed if he heard. A bar was a bar and none of his children should be seen there. For a beer lover, you would think he would not have a problem with hanging out at bars. At the bar, the first person Victoria laid her eyes on was a guy named Otsile. He sat on a bar stool by the counter and looked far gone. He wore a white t-shirt, a pair of blue jeans, and white sneakers, like the country boy he had always been. He had no cap on like he would normally do. He was a big guy, six foot five, and his broad shoulders made him hard to miss. Victoria took a few steps towards him when somebody called out her name. Turned out to be her cousin Pepe, the black sheep of the family. In his hand was a pint of beer, he smiled widely as if to illustrate his level of happiness. “Hey Couz, I thought your old man doesn’t entertain you coming around these places!” He said with a huge grin on his face. “He doesn’t, and I’m not exactly innocent.” “That much I know, but dang girl, you grew some balls!” he exclaimed. “I sure did.” She said and they laughed away. They parted and Victoria joined Otsile for a much-needed chat. Otsile stared down at his glass of ice and whiskey. His eyes were bloodshot, and the large man that he were, was on the verge of breaking down into tears. Victoria slid on the bar stool next to him and asked the bartender to bring her whatever Otsile was having. ‘’You look like shit.’’ She turned and said to Otsile. ‘’I feel like shit.’’ He said. There was silence. Victoria’s drink came and she gulped down the strong Irish whiskey. “What happened to her?’’ Victoria asked, breaking the silence. ‘’I don’t know what to think anymore, she died before I could know anything.” “Wait, what are you saying?” “She broke up with me about four weeks back, never gave a solid reason. I know for a fact that I haven’t done anything to upset her. Victoria took another sip and swallowed hard. “So, you guys had broken up for good? No silly games this time?” She asked Otsile. “A while ago she called my house at around midnight and said she was sorry, said she hated being without me. But then she was gone again, did not call, did not take my calls, did not respond to messages.” “Jesus!” Victoria exclaimed. “Wait…she did not say anything to you?” Otsile wanted to know. “Not a word.” “Surreal, I thought you guys told each other everything.” “I thought so too,” Victoria said in disappointment and anger. They sat in silence for a while. The music on the juke box was slow and depressing. In their glasses there was only ice, Victoria signaled the barman for one last round. He paused a bit as if to seek confirmation and Victoria gave him a nod. “I went to her house in the evening, her grandma said she was not around…. asked me if something was wrong, I told her I wasn’t sure. We did not talk much.” Otsile said, as soon as the barman came with the drinks. “So, she came back here maybe two or three days ago in the dead of the night, made sure nobody knew she was around, locked herself in and overdosed on something.” “Christ” “How come you did not notice that something was wrong Vic?” Otsile wanted to know. “I did, we were going to talk over a drink on Saturday night, my idea, and she said yes knowing she wouldn’t be able to make it.” Otsile was ordering another drink when Victoria interrupted him. In his state, he would not be able to drive. Without any debate, he accepted the offer to be driven home. Outside the bar were two trucks, the Tacoma and Otsile’s 2000 Yokun. The bar was closing, and people had left one by one. As Victoria drove away, she knew if the Tacoma spent the night in that parking lot it would be stripped before the night ended. She had to go back for it. It was an approximately eight-minute drive from the Countrystar bar to Otsile’s house. The gravel road was bumpy and uncomfortable to drive on following the rain. Completely blacked out on the chair, Otsile looked so nonchalant and for a moment Victoria wished she were him. At his gate she tried waking him up. It did not work. The main door swung open and his old man came out. “I’ll take it from here.” She waved at him and headed on out. The dark night swallowed her as she walked back to the bar without a single fiber of fear in her body. The road seemed long and liberating. The air had begun to get cold, and even then, she knew that back home, her old man was seated on the front porch waiting for her. Perhaps that was the love that kept her going. The bar was already shut when she walked through the deserted parking lot. Her mouth was dry, but the Tacoma only offered a bottle of water. She gulped it down before driving away into the silent night.