narratorAUSTRALIA Volume One

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  The following week, I heard rumors that Zimbabwean students’ visas were being cancelled. My tutor brought it up in class. I thought about Yonah. And my story. He could not just leave.

  He had not.

  I met him and a friend of his at Kudrom Park. As is the thing with rumours, a little detail had been left out ... Zimbabwean students whose parents were in Habemu’s government. His father was in the opposition. It would have been unfair on him. It was not fair on any of those students either. They are not the politicians; their parents are.

  Yonah’s friend has a warm sense of humour and a distinct, point-making yet non-insistent tone in his voice. He told me how ‘not so upset’ he was for those students.

  ‘They live like royals. Their parents send them over here while other Zims suffer back home. Even if you have the money in Zim now, it does not help anymore coz thez nothing on the shelves. I know one of the fuckers. He lives in Melbourne. That guy drives a Merc. Well, used to drive.’

  He smiled and mumbled something to Yonah in their native language. From the look on his face, I gathered they knew the student in question and, perhaps, did not like his father very much.

  ‘At least Kenya is peacefully corrupt. Well, no Kenyan student I know drives an escalade around here,’ I murmured.

  ‘A politician’s pay in Kenya is perhaps not as huge as the planet. Come to Zim. You will be shocked.’

  ‘Are you kidding?’ I said in laughter. ‘They do earn quite a lot. Last time I checked, they did not even pay taxes.’

  ‘Look at it this way ... you can go home without worrying about guns on the street and passport confiscations.’

  I notice Yonah is staring at me. A new kind of stare. Cute.

  My mobile phone buzzes. A text message from Marija. It has five exclamation marks at the end – Nyanyai, my girl. Work available. Hotel Esprit. Call quick. Chop-chop!