Ekasi! A typical Day in a Zimbabwean hood.
A story set in the low density suburbs during the COVID pandemic.
It’s already midday and I’m wondering where the whole morning went. Usually, the main road is alive with the screeching and grinding noises from town-bound vehicles. The taxi drivers make it a point to echo the dawn of a new day by hailing their presence too. On a typical weekday morning, by 8 am the chaotic noises from the main road are my alarm clock. But lately, we have been on lockdown for a whole three months and I have seen no reason to be up early when there’s no clear end as to the order of the day.
If I’m not learning to code from online resources, I’m watching my favourite TV show- The Office in my room on my 16-inch monitor. I made sure I downloaded the whole TV show using my university WIFI on the last days of school before the lockdown. I stocked up on a lot of movies too. Buying phone data is a luxury nowadays. The tariffs are unbearably high; it’s just sad. Nkazie loves my show too. She lives two houses from mine, and we go to the same university. I’m a Computer Science major and hers is something to do with finance or economics, I think. The guys from around the neighbourhood thought she had an ego and was another of the cheese girls. Cheese girls are those girls that are born in the upper-middle-class and high-class areas which were formerly rich white people's suburbs, with big yards, bigger houses, and fancy English schools where they all speak with some twang, nasalizing accent. The general consensus is that they come from rich families and so, unlike everyone else coming from the high-density suburbs, they don’t mingle with the commoners. The high-density houses were formerly designated for black people during the colonial era. They are tightly close together with hardly any yard space for a swimming pool or kicking a ball. That’s a simple blunt characterization of what a cheese girl is and Nkazie is not one. She just did not know a lot of people I assume. I got to know her through a mutual friend and because we stayed close together, we became friends and started sharing movies and TV shows to pass the time during the quarantine.
When all the knowledge consumption is now hitting a brick wall in my brain and I’m bored of being in the house, I make my daily rounds to the shopping centre nearby. MaE has a small box-like structure by the shops where he sells Airtime scratch cards for all mobile service providers and electricity vouchers. Recently he has picked up money changing too. It has become a very lucrative business since the government decided to re-introduce its own currency under the bond-note umbrella. Many people still have no confidence in the new currency, so they prefer to exchange their bond notes for foreign currency, most commonly, the South African Rand and the US Dollar. I love hanging out with him just to pass the time. His spot always has up to five guys almost always, just chilling and hoping someone with a plan might indulge them. By plan, I mean they hope for a dash of wise waters to quench their ghetto youths' thirst. Once in a while, MaE sells cheap spirits that can finish in three gulps or less. On a good day, he buys his fellow comrades a good brand of whiskey and some juice to chase, and together, they laugh out their sorrows in the comfort of good local music faintly sounding from a Bluetooth speaker. Mind you, that speaker may be one of the things he has for sale in his tiny shop. His mother prefers calling him Emmanuel. “Why let a good name go to waste?”, I assume she’d think. She refused to conform to the Kasi derivatives. As for us, his gents, we prefer the spiced-up versions; MaE or MaEazy.
He’s very fond of me. He lends me money all the time. When I need data for internet bundles, he’s, my guy. We have a symbiotic functional relationship because when Mom sends me remittances via Western Union, I make sure to pay him back in time and he gets the fresh one-dollar and five-dollar notes. The small dollar denominations are scarce, and you can only get them from the bank or from international money transfer agencies like Western Union or World Remit. One time I needed change for USD $5, and I had to pay six dollars to get it. Yes, everyone is now a vengeful capitalist in this frail Zimbabwe economy that has failed its people. I also bring MaEazy the latest movies and tv shows and occasionally repair his computer when it has issues. I’m the resident computer guy in the neighbourhood. The gents assume that because I study Computer Science at the National University of Science and Technology (NUST) in town I’m now good at repairing their computer problems. Most of the time I use Google to troubleshoot their software problems but anything for street cred, right?
Today I picked up my camera, a Pentax K200D which my uncle in Australia had bought for my grandfather before grandpa departed the earth. I think I’m following in his footsteps. When I was young, he was the resident photographer in the village. He had drawers and bags of photographs he had taken at weddings, birthdays, church events, at home, and even at funerals. Ekasi, here, I’m the resident photographer too. I don’t see myself as a photographer though but because I have this old camera, I just find myself taking pictures whenever we’re out with the boys trying to figure out how to make the best out of these days that are void of any meaningful activity. As always, I’m taking pictures of the scenes Ekasi. I bumped into Nkazie by the shops and she was buying a 2kg packet of rice. I’m guessing she’s going to make lunch. I enjoy catching people in their default settings. Just lazing around in probably yesterday’s outfit and then she finds me with a camera in hand. The camera does nothing else but feed. I have an affinity for these kinds of images and raw setups because I feel like they detail the true feeling and aura of the Kasi outside what the people show to the world in their Instagram posts when they are bathed and looking glorious. And don’t get me wrong, when our Kasi girls are all dressed up with their make-up on and hair done, you wouldn’t tell who’s from the suburbs and who’s from the hood. Same reason why the gents Ekasi thought Nkazie was a type of cheese girl, she cleans up good, that’s the fact.
Roy stays in just one house opposite Nkazie. We also go to the same university but he’s a year below me. Bhawuza; that’s the name he has fatefully been graced with. The name Roy is short for Leroy and that is his first name, but you cannot survive Ekasi without a nickname. It’s like you don’t belong. The proclivity for the gents to derive names for just the sake of it is unmatched. Bhawuza is a derivative of the word bowser which refers to a huge mobile water tank truck. Now, the back story; so, the City Council has been notorious for cutting the water supply to people’s homes, a regular thing that they have been doing as a water rationing mechanism. They send out a roster of when the bowser will be coming to give people water so people can get ready their buckets. Initially, it was all chaos when it would randomly appear in our area. When we heard the piercing jovial screams from the kids playing outside; ‘Bhawuza, Bhawuza, Bhawwwwwuzza’ whilst they simultaneously sprinted their lungs out, we knew the bowser had come. This meant; running, grabbing your buckets and containers, and going to join the already large queue. The bowser would start pouring water into people’s containers until the sun eventually goes down. When it gets dark, it became survival of the fittest. People at the back would start trying to push to the front. Some people would even go back to their houses without getting any water. But not my dear friend. For some reason, he always had his potion. Actively under the cover of darkness, with just one light coming from the bowser itself, he managed. And just like that he had earned himself the title Bhawuza. The great thing about nicknames is they never die.
On my way back home, I always pass by his house, and we dish the latest scoop on anything happening. He’s not a fan of my show and I think he’s missing out because the show has many episodes to keep him hooked for a longer time. It’s effortlessly hilarious too. Best combo.
We converse about a lot of stuff with Roy. Conversations about the feminine species are also very dominant. Yesterday I saw a nice girl who I had never seen in the area. A significant number of the nice Kasi girls stay indoors and never come out unless when it’s peak hour. Peak hour is around 6 pm to 8 pm when the Kasi aunties and sisters are going to buy their fresh vegetables and meat for dinner. When it’s not lockdown, it’s also the time when all the students, fortunate working class, and hustlers coming from town start dropping off headed home. That’s when you see all the faces that hide indoors. I’m telling Roy about this girl because that’s protocol. You see, one needs to gather any background intel before making any moves. MaE usually has the dotcom on a lot of people. He’s by the shops so much that he’s seen many faces and people just love telling him about their lives obliviously updating his database. Sometimes we hit the gym; me and Roy. It’s lockdown so we’ve been trying to get some muscles to show off when the lockdown is over.
Just two houses from my house, on the right, lives Pa. He has a bench and some weights. These backyard gyms are common in the hood. Best believe, with only a weight bench for equipment, every day is chest day and some variation exercises but hardly any legs. If we’re not reviewing some Winky D music we’re sharing movies and Tv shows to watch. I have many a time fallen victim to watching a show because I wanted to be part of the conversations with the gents at the gym or at our impromptu gatherings. Money heist is the popular one currently. If you haven’t watched it just know you won’t hear the end of it. The whole Kasi is expected to be watching Money Heist. I have a cousin called ManBritso who lives in the neighbourhood too but a little distance from my house and Bhawuza. He also comes to get movies from me and get his computer repaired. He’s been getting all the latest Money Heist episodes from me.
After getting lunch and washing up, I walk towards ManBritso’s house. At this time the electricity has just been cut off for all houses in the area. Another normal occurrence in this monotonous lockdown. Our Kasi is huge. It’s like one city in America. Maybe Rhode Island state where the cities are relatively small. The city is then divided into many sections for power cuts or just zones for whatever needs they may be to organize the community into smaller groups. ManBritso and I are in the same zone. When there’s no electricity like this you can either choose to sleep or rather galivant around the area and just hope to find a group of guys sitting outside. The latter is usually preferable if you want to escape being depressed at home and there are high chances you won’t be disappointed in your endeavours.
There’s a corner house just before I get to ManBritso’s place. It’s a hotspot for our now regular but spontaneous meetups. Themba lives by that corner house. His neighbours with Banda. MaFifty is also based two houses from Banda. I call him Curtis, hailing after 50 Cent, the one and only. He loves dressing up in baggy clothes and flat caps like your typical hip pop artist. Even his walk is that of a wannabe rap god in a hip pop music video; with luxury cars, gold chains and watches, exotic women, and your MTV Cribs type-of houses. Gas lives right opposite MaFifty. He also goes to NUST but is a year younger than me. Bheki is his immediate neighbour. Bheki is light skin and tall. He has a young brother, and their mere existence is a cause for being picked on by Banda and Themba. And these are just the starring regular characters. I got to know them through ManBritso whose first name is Brilliant, by the way. They are all friends of friends and I see them all the time at the shops or when we’re fetching water by the bowser spot when it decides to come. In this lockdown period, all the boys in our zone are bound to know each other. It’s also common that we hang out and bond for over three months and not know each other’s first names. I heard that there are also two girls that are strippers who rent a house on this very same street. They work in Town in the only Strip Club that Bulawayo has. The gents say these girls are sex workers too. I first heard that from MaEazy. Then the boys confirmed it. And trust the boys to dish out all the Scoop.
Just as I’m getting around the corner, I see the squad has gathered. There’s never a specific agenda, we just sit there and discuss the social affairs of our dull uneventful lives. What is a guaranteed modus operandi, however, are the roast sessions. Everyone is going to get roasted. I usually got teased for having big ears. Gas was often teased for having a head that has many bumps. The more you come up with great punchlines to defend yourself the more you become undefeated. If your rebuttal is flat and gets no laughs you’re doomed. Everyone now knows you are easy to get to. If we saw you maybe at the shops trying your luck with a girl and got sacked, you’ll get it. Anything flies, it’s hood comedy and there are hardly any rules. One-time Gas got roasted, got mad, and almost picked a fight. Themba and Banda are roughly the same age and are best friends. They let the roasts fly this other day and it didn’t end well. Their tempers picked and they locked fists. On the following day, they were back to tag team against others. If you’re a new face in the area and may be trying to join in the fun, hellfire will rain on you. Even the little ones pick on you. The meetings can literally turn into anything. We could end up playing cards, roaming with ManBristo and Gas’ huge dogs in the Kasi as we own it. Two people can be standing outside their house gates, and in less than thirty minutes the group will have grown to almost 20 people.
Today is no different than all the other days. They’re setting up small goalposts using reject building bricks. Banda is measuring the size of the goalposts with his feet. One brick is positioned first, then he places both his feet one after the other in a straight line and then goes to the other goalpost. The same goes for the other side. The playing field becomes the road between the houses and the unused land. Ncube has a small vegetable garden on that small unused land. There’s also a ZAOGA church there. I think the whole perimeter of the land belongs to them because they have a new church structure being built on the other side of their current small church.
As for the aesthetic of the ground, it’s just dirt, unlike the main road which is tarred although pothole infested. I’m not going to play soccer today. I already cleaned up so I wouldn’t want to get myself all dirty again given the standard of our facilities. Instead, I do what I do best and document the superstars as they claim their favourite English Premiere League players and try to represent them well. On that field, there’s no Bheki, Banda, or ManBritso. You get Lionel Messi, Cristiano Ronaldo, and Neymar. One problem is that everyone wants to claim the G.O.A. Ts and that sometimes causes some duplicates or contests of who’s the better representation of, say, Kylian Mbappe.
Most of our corner conversations are soccer debates too. Themba plays in the junior league for a local division two team. ManBritso is just fit and has football intelligence. I guess the FIFA gaming tournaments also help. If not watching soccer games or movies, the gents host FIFA tournaments. Everyone with a laptop has the FIFA game. The joypads are the ones that are rotated around houses. There’s one guy; Eddy, they say he’s a menace at using the keyboard. He’s also a resident of the popular avenue in question. I’m a dismal gamer myself. When it comes to playing the beautiful FIFA game, I always lose so I genuinely don’t bother. When I play FIFA though, I prefer the PlayStation or Xbox to the computer. Once in a while, when Mom sends me money, I hire a PS4 from Gunfire. Gunfire lives down the same line with ManBritso. He’s older than the rest of us. He even has a wife and a baby but still goes to NUST to finish up his degree in Medicine. A couple of dollars and he lends the PS to me for a few hours. I summon Bhawuza, Tanaka; another friend of mine who lives just in front of the shops and goes to NUST too, ManBritso, and the other familiar gents and we test our skills at my house. Today, all those FIFA scores are being settled in the actual game.
Bheki and ManBritso got to pick the teams. Four on each side and the games commence. The rest of the guys also pick teams of three and wait their turn. The first team to score wins and then gets to play the next team challenging from the sidelines. It's not a timed game and, mind you, the goalposts are very small, and scoring is hard. No goalkeepers are allowed; everyone is an infield player. The ball can only go as high as knee height for it to count as a goal. ManBritso and Banda are on the same team. They’re a deadly combination in these streets. In just minutes they’ve knocked their first challenger out. They seek a bigger competitor who can fight for the throne.
If it’s lockdown and people are supposed to be in quarantine, how are we jollying outside you may ask? Well, when the whole world was closing, we did likewise. Or better said, we borrowed a version of those lockdown regulations. These regulations were largely enforced in town and hardly Ekasi. In a very short space of time, we grew tired of being indoors. We didn’t have electricity all the time. Neither did we have pantries overloaded with food and tanks overflowing with water and juice. We were bound to be outside, inevitably. The local supermarkets gradually opened. Liquor stores were only closed for the initial stages of the pandemic but then back door operations availed themselves to the expectant and inventive Kasi residents.
Curtis and Gas are on the same team. Their team is not a scary triplet. They’re just here for the vibes. Their first game goes as expected and they become the subject of ridicule. They’re also the unfavorites when it comes to throwing shade. ManBritso’s team is the favourite so far and they are cleaning up the floor with all these other teams. They only went out after their fourth win. But after an interesting three games where the underdogs battled it out to see who ranks second from the obvious rivals, the favourites come back to instil more discipline. The sun is almost bowing out for the day. The crowd noise has drawn more attention and even the women who usually sell by the roadside have gathered to cheer and spectate. Kasi soccer is flamboyant. Unlike the regular big leagues that are televised or the FIFA World Cup, here they make sure to serve the ball with flowers and beautiful seasoning. It’s what defines Kasi soccer. Bheki, Mr Handsome is also Mr I-decorate-the-play. His team has been getting the most applause even though they may not be the winning favorites.
For a game without any accolades, you want to collect all the bragging rights. If not the bragging rights, let the streets know you can dribble like Ronaldinho or Cristiano in his prime young years. The latter sometimes triumphs over the former. Everyone celebrates your prowess. Word gets around swiftly too. In the past, I’ve been to Kasi soccer competitions where the winning team gets a goat. In my granny’s village, they used to do that. The goat was braai meat for winners after the party as they consulted their bottles of liquor to wash down the only victory they may be awarded by the country.
Eventually, people started dispersing and heading to their homes. I capture the final moments of the beautiful African sun. The moment is phenomenal on camera. We take more pictures with the rest of the boys as we sit against Banda’s house boundary wall. The sky is turning black, and the thick darkness is about to penetrate the atmosphere. I check my phone. It’s seven o’clock. What exactly did I do today that I can say was productive? As if to save me from a depressive line of introspection, the street tower light gleefully comes to life. The sudden brightness is punctuated by infant ecstatic screams, ‘Amagetsi, Amagetsiiiiiiiiiii.’ If this day wasn’t good enough, at least my Samsung phone will relish a night of peaceful charging.
Ekasi/ Kasi: a neighbourhood in a city or area around a city occupied predominantly by Black South Africans or Zimbabweans.
Airtime: A voucher that's used to upload money on your phone in order to make phone calls, send messages, use the internet on your phone etc. The word “airtime” is most commonly used in South Africa and Zimbabwe.
Amagetsi: Ndebele term for electricity
Dotcom/Scoop: Background information about anything.
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Until next Monday, Peace and love ✌🏾💖