John goes out early and finds our guest standing on the side of the road with her suitcase. He stops to say hello and gets a very curt response. She is going to catch the bus to Harare and is waiting for her friends to pick her up. ‘My friends have let me down,’ he says with her straight line mouth. She does not say anything about her stay or even goodbye.
The cottage smells overwhelmingly of a strong, sweet scent. I feel like opening all the doors and windows to get rid of both the smell and the presence of this woman who has stagnated here for the always open if there is someone at home. I could not stay in a room with the curtains closed all the time, especially during the day. One of the peculiarities of Africa is that people often keep windows and curtains closed. I don’t know how many times I walk into a classroom to find every single window shut and it’s at least 10 am. Then there are people who lock the doors all the time. I just don’t get it.
About three years ago, a man stayed with us for a few nights. As soon as I had shown him into the cottage, he set about closing the windows, drawing all the curtains and even locked the interconnecting doors between rooms. I don’t know what that was all about but it certainly made me feel claustrophobic.
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