Manunu (Lesotho 3)

Manunu sat nursing his beer, he looked across at me and smiled. We had started drinking much, much earlier in the evening. I had no idea what the time was now and they way I felt at the moment, I couldn’t give a damn.

“Manunu, what ever happened to Precious, that women you were seeing?” Manunu smiled, he didn’t talk much at the best of times and he did not seem enthusiastic to clarify the issue. Aow!, She is no longer here in Lesotho, her father is not well. She was a powerful woman that one . . . he sighs and then chuckles and shakes his head, lost in thought for a moment. He takes another sip of his beer, still chuckling, looks at me and asks me and what happened to your lady, Trinity?” I catch my breath, I hadn’t thought about Trinity for some time and yet it is almost as if I have not stopped thinking about her at all. My memory of her is very vivid, no doubt helped by the alcohol that I have consumed. I realise that I have deep in thought for a few minutes, I look up and I see Manunu is watching me. He smiles and nods his head, “Ja, you still miss her, hey?” I find myself smiling as well, there was no fooling Manunu, he knew she had meant a lot to me. Then the opportunity in Spain had come up and she would have been a fool not to have taken it and that is what I had told her. So barely six months into our relationship she had up and left for Europe. We still exchange emails and we are still good friends. “She might be coming for Christmas,” I said looking at Manunu again. He looked at me, peering over his glasses, which were perched on the end of his nose. “Do you think that is advisable?” I’m not sure, part of me wanted it to happen, a hankering back to what we had shared before, but another part of me was very unsure of what might happen when she came. Was I being naïve, did she have similar feelings for me or was she just looking for a break from Europe’s winter weather. Was it realistic to think that we would be sleeping together again, that we might reach some of those heights of ecstasy again. He seemed to sense or know what I was thinking and told me that I was dreaming again. He held his hands together at the thumbs and flapped his hands, like two wings and then we burst out laughing. I reached into the cooler bag and pulled out another two bottles of Castle lager, his face lit up as if this was a special treat and not just another beer.

I tossed another few logs on the fire, it had snowed yesterday and as beautiful as it was outside on the mountain slopes it was bitterly cold. I have made up the spare room for you. He nodded his head and said that it would be dangerous to try and go down to the farm now anyway, he thanked me. We discussed the football from last week. I was an Orlando Pirates fan and Manunu supported Kaiser Chiefs. We had organised a barbecue the last time they faced each other, with Kaiser Chiefs the triumphant warriors of the day. Lesotho remained in South Africa’s shadow when it came to sports and economics. Both Manunu and myself were not native to this country. Having visited here since I was a young boy, I felt a definite sense of comfort and belonging. So much so that I already knew that I would retire here one day. I mentioned this to my guest and he expressed surprise that I would even consider or think of going anywhere else. This country is in your blood now you will not easily walk away from her, she will haunt you if you do. I thought about what he had said and realised that it was true. Many a day I sit with my head buried in books and don’t even spare a thought for my surroundings. But then again there are days when you just can’t help but drink it all in. The views really are intoxicating and can just take your breath away. What about yourself, what are your long term plans? Manunu took out his pipe and kept himself busy filling it with tobacco, eventually he lit up, filling the room with small clouds of airomatic rum and maple tobacco, his favourite. He looked at me intensely and told me that he hoped to build a cottage further along the trail, near the mountain pool area. The matter had been discussed with farmer Swanepoel, who now kept some money aside each month in a special savings account. The erf had been purchased from farmer Van der Merwe. More importantly Precious was very keen on the idea of living above the rest of the community. He hoped that those days were not too far off. His work as foreman for farmer Swanepoel would continue but he would stay in his own house. And yes, God willing, there would be more mouths to feed soon. A few goats for milk and meat as well as a few staple crops for cooking, would go a long way to making him self-sufficient. Those are my plans my friend and it looks like we will be neighbours.