Let Us Cross to the Other Side

A story by MUZHINGA KANKINDA

Seated in the corner of a fishing trawler, sailing on violent waves, the little girl tucked her dull and brittle hair behind her ear. She made eye contact with her father. Locked in a painful gaze, father and daughter ruminated. The girl’s eyes pleaded for an answer––When will our strife end? Her cracked lips begged for food and water, yet there was none. 

Her mother, seated beside her father, read her mind and encouraged her with an affectionate look. 

They were miles away from Masisi, a town in Kuto, her war-torn home, and certainly miles from reaching their destination where they hoped to find peace. The girl’s father placed his hand on the girl’s head, pained by his daughter’s suffering. “Hush, Tatenda,” he said softly. “We’ll be there soon.”

Tatenda nodded and forced a grin, revealing a line of stained yellow teeth. She’d always dreamt of leaving her home country but had never imagined it would be like this. For this journey, the family packed the little they could carry in a hurry, leaving behind everything they knew and loved. The boat was crowded, and the trip promised storms, pirates, thirst, hunger and terror. Still, Tatenda believed her father, even though beneath the belief, she wondered if they’d ever find this new place he called peaceful, or if they would be forever lost at sea.

We’ll be there soon––her inner voice echoed and urged. Soon, I’ll be able to live a normal life and go to school again.

After many days at sea, everyone became downcast. The excitement of escaping death vanished, replaced by crushing fear of the dangers and uncertainties ahead. Tatenda saw despair in the elders’ eyes. If the elders, who are blessed with intuition and wisdom, are disheartened at a time like this, is there hope? Tatenda’s question drenched her with despair. Perhaps death would be their only saviour this time around. If only the ethnic tensions would cease in Kuto.

She turned to her father. He avoided her gaze, and her eyes watered, no longer able to blink back the tears. But then she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned. A boy, about her age, was standing behind her. He looked frail and exhausted, and his clothes hung loosely on his skinny frame. His dark skin was covered in dirt, beneath it, a littering of scratches and bruises. His hair was matted, and his eyes dull. When he shuffled to her side, it was as if every drag was a struggle. Yet he managed a weak smile.

Tatenda smiled back and offered him the leftover raw fish they’d caught on the journey. He turned her down with a thankful head shake and lifted the hand holding it to her mouth. Tatenda simply stared at him until he accepted it. Eventually, he took a nibble. He followed that with a stretch of his hand to her mouth, encouraging her to join him. Between those bites, a friendship was formed. 

The boy’s name was Jabari. He, too, was escaping from their country with his mother. Every day after, the two children found solace in each other’s company. They’d sit in the little corner of the boat to share their stories. 

Jabari told her about his beautiful home back in Kuto. “I lived on the farm,” he told her as he recalled his old home–– a farm, where the animals lived in harmony with the land and the seasons. The cows roamed on the lush pastures, the chickens chattered and pecked in the barnyard, and the pigs splashed in the mud. Jabari, his parents, three elder brothers and one sister, savoured those simple joys of life. They’d rise with the dawn, have a sumptuous breakfast, and then go about their chores. While his father and siblings worked tirelessly to care for their crops and livestock, he and his mother would cook meals for the whole family. Then in the evenings, they would huddle around the fireplace and share stories, songs, and games. “The farm was our heaven, and we cherished it with all our hearts because it was home”

“You had a lovely home, Jabari,” Tatenda said, when the boy paused, staring at the horizon.

“Until that day. We didn’t know that a dark shadow loomed over our happy world. There was a cruel war that was about to break out and destroy everything. We did not know that our last days of happiness were numbered. We were attacked right there, on our farm. I watched my father, brothers, and sister die––” Jabari stopped, his eyes, tearstained.

Tatenda patted his shoulder, and he turned to her, looking hopeful.

In Jabari’s face, was resilience and courage, despite his situation. He had not tasted a decent meal or felt clean water on his skin for days, yet there was hope on his face. He faced every challenge with determination and grit, never letting his hunger or fatigue show. Here was a boy who had learnt to survive but also to dream. Seeing Jabari like this injected Tatenda with hope again. She decided to fill him with more hope. She became his confidant and was the only one who could make him smile. Jabari found solace and courage in Tatenda even when he felt like giving up. Just like him, she had a way of seeing the beauty in everything, even in the dark and stormy sea that separated them from their homeland. She told him stories of their future, of the places they would visit, of the people they would meet, the dreams they would fulfil. She held his hand and was his light, his anchor, his friend, and just like that, they became each other’s strength.

But then, a vehement wind hit the tiny boat, and Jabari’s mother, the one who had fled with him, fell into the waters. Jabari almost jumped into the sea, but Tatenda’s father caught him. The other men and women tried to rescue her, but their attempts failed. The woman was taken by the current, sending her to be a feast for aquatic life.

Afterwards, Jabari fell ill. All his courage and hope vanished with his mother. He wanted to stay strong, at least for his new friend, because when he looked into Tatenda’s eyes, they pleaded with him to stay. But in the skies, his family beckoned him to leave this world filled with selfish people who only wanted to benefit themselves. As his family stretched out their hands to him, Jabari recalled his father’s words. “Everyone is eyeing our country’s natural resources. The gold, especially,” he had told him. “I’m afraid, there will come a time when selfish people will invade our land, join hands with some of our people and plunder our land to nothing. I hope by that time, you and your siblings will have lived your lives to the fullest.”

Lost in a reverie of his father’s memory, Jabari heard someone call his name. The voice was distant, but it grew louder as he regained his senses. By now, almost everyone had surrounded him, looking at him with pitiful eyes.

Tatenda’s father asked everyone to give them space as if he knew that the boy was about to leave. When everyone had dispersed, Tatenda let Jabari rest his head on her lap.

“Be strong, Jabari. We are almost there,” she said, tears streaming down her face. 

He slowly and weakly moved his hand to wipe her tears away.

“Tatenda?” His voice was faint. “I didn’t live my life to the fullest, but I hope you can.”

“You can too, Jabari. Just stay strong.”

“But they are calling out to me. My family is calling out to me, Tatenda,” Jabari replied. Every utterance was a struggle; every word, a depletion of his vigour. “I see our home, Tatenda. I see our heaven, and I cannot resist.”

“No, please! Stay with me. We made plans for our future.”

“I’m sad to know that I will not be in that future, but I’m happy that I’m finally going home. Stay strong, Tatenda. My last prayer is that you reach that future and do everything we planned to do.”

He died nestled in her soothing embrace for the last time.

Tatenda watched as her father and the rest of the men dropped his body into the deep, and wept profusely. The others joined her in weeping. Jabari was their strength and courage too. Sadly, he died without knowing this. The tragedies and losses made Tatenda question her faith and humanity. Is there an end to our suffering? Then she looked at her father, and this time he did not avoid her gaze. He took her into his arms and embraced her tightly. Her mother, who mostly kept to herself, joined them and also broke down.

It was four long weeks before they finally reached their destination, Vilwick, and Tatenda couldn’t be happier. Government trucks came to and fro, transporting them to a refugee camp.

“Here,” her father said, “We will have food, shelter, and most importantly, peace and safety”

It was the best news she had heard in a month.

“Will I also be able to go to school?”

“Yes,” her father replied. “Your mother and I will work so hard so that you can start school again.”

“Thank you, Tate, Mama!”

*

Life in the camp was difficult. There was little or no food to cater for everyone. More so, the Camp was not the home they dreamt of having. Tatenda’s parents had lots of expectations. They wanted a good place to live, a job, and a school for their child.

As if these problems weren’t enough, all the refugees faced hostility and violence from some locals. Their presence was resented because some of the locals thought they were a threat to their lives and jobs.

“Go back to your God-forsaken country!”

“You are here to snatch our peace!”

Days crawled by, and the scorn and insults grew to a point where Tatenda’s father decided that they had to leave for greener pastures.

A businessman, Bandile Amogelang, one of the kind ones he had met at the camp, offered him a job as a farmer. The man was a philanthropist. He often visited the camp with food, water, and books for children. Bandile was intrigued by Tatenda’s determination to go to school and decided to take the family in. His farm was in the countryside. There were not many people there, so it was a peaceful abode for the family. Soothingly, the farm was like the one Jabari had told her about and even more. It was in this place that Tatenda would change the course of her life. With the help of Bandile, her father enrolled Tatenda in a community school.

Despite the immense difficulty, Tatenda resolutely adapted and immersed herself in her new society. She also sought therapy to confront her experience, which manifested as anger and melancholic swings that sometimes inclined her to avoid her parents and other people who triggered memories of the past. This avoidance impacted her learning and social interactions. But with a mind as sharp as a sword and unwavering determination, she triumphed over the trauma and the obstacles, ultimately becoming an A-student.

Tatenda’s journey extended beyond academics. She cultivated skills in sports and visual arts, and despite facing rejections, she managed to forge meaningful friendships. Among them was Vusi, Bandile’s son. In her heart, she imagined him as Jabari’s reincarnation, a comforting way to cope with the pain of his loss.

“Live well as Vusi, Jabari,” she told him one day.

“I am not Jabari,” Vusi replied with frustration, but she only smiled at him, melting his heart.

“Tell me why you call me Jabari, Tatenda?” 

“It is your nickname,” she said to avoid the topic.

“No, Tatenda. I know there is something more to it than just a nickname.”

“You remind me of a dear friend, Vusi. He was your age, I assume,” Tatenda said. “The day he died, a big piece of my life went with him, but I no longer feel empty since I met you. You are that big piece, Vusi. You fill the empty void and how else can I interpret it except that Jabari lives again.”

Nothing like that happened, Tatenda. If he was my age, then it means we both came into the world at the same time.” Vusi explained, but when she frowned, he smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t call me Jabari. I accept it as my nickname and promise to live well.”

“Jabari and I made lots of plans for the future too,”

“Are you asking me to fulfil those plans with you as well?”

“No, You are not Jabari. Your path isn’t his, and his path isn’t yours. In a way, Jabari fulfilled his destiny, you and I must fulfil ours too.”

“Good answer,” Vusi praised her. “However, I will always support you in everything you do because you were born to do great things, and I would like to be a part of that.”

“Thank you, Vusi,” Tatenda replied happily and looked up at the beautiful sky. “Thank you, Jabari.”

Keen to change the fate of her country, Kuto, Tatenda went to Law School years later. This was part of the plans she’d made with Jabari. During her time at school, she often told her story in peace and conflict forums and earned awards for being one of the youngest advocates of peace and justice. Tatenda also volunteered as a tutor for other displaced children. In her third year, Bandile fell ill. He was diagnosed with Leukaemia, and this put his family in a tight fix with medical bills. It was a hard decision to make, but Bandile’s family eventually cut Tatenda off their budget. Now she had to fend for herself in school. Her parents also did not have much to spare after their salaries were reduced overnight, but they did not disapprove of it. They understood all too well why the family decided to take these measures, and they hoped Bandile would survive. It was also not hard for Tatenda to receive a scholarship with her credentials.

Sadly, Bandile died the following year, leaving his family, especially Vusi, devastated and lonely.

He hardly ate or went out with friends anymore. He preferred to be indoors or in solitary places that made him lonelier and sad. He became absentminded and could hardly concentrate in class. Vusi’s behaviour became worrisome, and looking at him, Tatenda remembered Jabari. Vusi’s blank gaze and vapid expression were similar to that of Jabari when he lost his mother. He hardly talked when they were together, and he always stared into the distant sky, hoping he could fly away.

At this point, Tatenda knew she had to help him recover, or else he would leave just like Jabari. He was studying Economics and Political Science and would lag if he continued to be depressed. Taking it upon herself to revive his broken spirit, Tatenda thought of various ways she could help him recover. Then she thought of sharing her story with him—from her pains to her joys. She realised that she would be able to reason with him if she told him her story and made him realise that no matter how bad the world was, it still gave people a chance to be happy, even just once.

Tatenda visited Vusi’s University every weekend, and they spent time together. Although Vusi did not say it out, Tatenda had become his source of relief. She would tell him beautiful stories about Kuto, and finally, she told him about the escape to Vilwick, incident by incident. Vusi always listened attentively, and with time, his expression evolved from curiosity to empathy. Tatenda had had a hard life, and it was all because of the selfishness of people out there. These people were cruel enough to start ethnic tension and wars all because they wanted the gold and diamonds of Kuto. They didn’t care about the thousands of people who lost their homes. They did not heed the cries of the people dying from injuries, and starvation or the children that were orphaned when their parents were murdered. No, they never cared. Vusi frowned slightly and nodded, leaning forward slightly when Tatenda’s voice broke with sorrow. There was a lump in her throat, but he felt it too, and a tear rolled down his cheek. He was moved by her story and wanted to comfort her. Vusi moved closer and embraced her, while she wept. What he had gone through could not surpass her pain, yet she was still living and fighting the odds. Imagining how much she’d suffered, Vusi gained a sense of responsibility over her. He vowed to protect her in his heart and never let her face any trouble in her life, and to do this, he had to live.

“I want to be there for you now, Tatenda,” he told her as they walked back from their secret hideout. “I promise I will protect you for the rest of my life.”

“You sound as if you won’t get married just to take care of me,” Tatenda said and laughed.

“I will marry someone,” Vusi told her as he cradled her face. “That person is you.”

“You are emotional right now. You pity me, and that’s why you’re saying all this,”

“What if it’s not pity, but love and responsibility?”

“I might consider marrying you then,” Tatenda revealed. 

“Then I will work hard to show you that I love you,” Vusi declared and hugged her tightly.

Five years later, Tatenda graduated from Law School with first-class honours. In her valedictorian speech, Tatenda spoke about achieving peace and justice for all. To the sea of proud parents, friends, teachers, and fellow graduates, Tatenda said,

I’m from Kuto, a country in Central Africa. I am honoured to be here today, graduating in the class of 2023, and I'm proud to speak to you about global peace and justice. I am a woman who has witnessed the horrors of violence and hatred, who has lost friends and family to senseless conflicts, and who has dreamt of a better world where everyone can live in harmony and dignity. I am not alone in this dream. I know that many of you share it too. But how can we make it a reality? How can we overcome the barriers that divide us and build bridges that unite us?

The first step is to recognize our common humanity. We are all human beings, with hopes and fears, joys and sorrows, and strengths and weaknesses. We are all children of the same planet, the same Creator, and the same destiny. We are all worthy of respect and compassion, regardless of our race, religion, culture, status, or nationality. We are all connected by the bonds of love and friendship, by the ties of history and heritage, and by the aspirations of freedom and justice.

Therefore, we need to hear each other’s stories, understand each other’s perspectives, and empathise with each other’s feelings. We need to communicate with honesty and openness, with humility, and with kindness and generosity. We need to acknowledge our differences but also celebrate our similarities. We need to learn from each other, grow with each other, and support each other. More importantly, we need to cooperate for the common good, and for the benefit of all people and all nations. We need to collaborate on solving the problems that threaten our peace and security, such as terrorism, war, and ethnic conflicts. We need to compromise on finding solutions that respect our diversity and uphold our values. We need to commit to building a culture of peace and justice, where human rights are protected and promoted, where conflicts are resolved through dialogue and negotiation, and where violence is rejected and reconciliation is embraced. This path requires courage and determination, patience and perseverance, vision, and leadership. It requires love, empathy, and selflessness. As such, we must challenge ourselves and others to question our assumptions and prejudices and to change our attitudes and behaviours towards ourselves and others. We must do all this to be effective peacemakers and justice-seekers, not only in words but in deeds. I have chosen this path, and through it, I shall be able to bring peace and justice to all who have been wronged, dead or alive because I have come this far because of others’ love for me, and I salute them. I salute my countrymen, my extended family in Kuto, My friend Jabari and his beloved family. I salute Bandile Amogelang, Vusi Amongelang, and their entire family, and lastly, I salute Tate and Mama. Without them, I would not have reached this far in my aspirations. Thank you for your attention, and I hope you can join in on this quest.

To a standing ovation, Tatenda stepped down from the podium, feeling a surge of pride and gratitude. She scanned the crowd, her eyes desperately looking for the familiar face of her boyfriend, Vusi. She spotted him in the front row, smiling at her, a wave of emotion washed over her. Tatenda lifted her hand to her lips and blew him a kiss, a gesture both playful and sincere. Vusi caught it and pressed it to his heart, his eyes shining with affection. She knew he was her biggest fan, and she was his. Just then, her eyes shifted to the entrance of the hall, and there she imagined Jabari, weak and pale, but there was something different about him this time—he smiled at her, and she smiled back before his image was replaced by that of her classmate. 

She walked towards her parents, waiting for their hugs, but in her mind sat the question, Did I imagine Jabari?