Chapter 1: The Unfamiliar Question
The playground was a canvas of vibrant hues, painted with the laughter of children and the whispers of the wind through the leaves. I was ten, a little girl with dreams as big as the sky and worries as small as the ants beneath my feet. That’s when Tendai, the cousin of the boy who would one day steal my heart, approached with a question that would echo through time.
“Rudo,” Tendai called out, his voice a familiar echo across the schoolyard.
I looked up from the ladybug I had been observing, its tiny legs tickling my hand. “Mhoro, Tendai,” I greeted him, which means “Hello, Tendai” in Shona.
He had a peculiar look on his face, one that I couldn’t quite decipher. “I have a question for you,” he said, his eyes searching mine. “Do you have a crush on Kuda?”
I blinked, the term ‘crush’ foreign and strange on my tongue. “A crush? Chii izvozvo?” which means “What is that?” in Shona.
“It’s when you like someone… more than a friend,” he explained, a hint of mischief in his smile.
I pondered for a moment, then shook my head. “Aiwa, hapana,” I replied, meaning “No, nothing like that.”
He nodded, seemingly satisfied with my response, and ran off to rejoin the soccer game, leaving me with a new word and a curiosity that would only be satiated eight years later.
Fast forward, and I was eighteen, with the wisdom of years yet lived. The jacaranda trees still stood, but now I was looking at them through younger eyes, the past and future colliding in a single moment.
“Tendai,” I said as he approached, the same question lingering in the air. “Ndine chimwe chinhu chekukuudza,” which means “I have something to tell you.”
He waited, expectant.
“This time, my answer is different. Ehe, ndine crush pa Kuda,” I confessed, admitting “Yes, I have a crush on Kuda.”
The words hung between us, a bridge across time, and I couldn’t help but wonder how this single truth could alter the course of our lives.
As we stood there, the world around us continued unabated. Children shrieked with delight as they chased each other, oblivious to the monumental shift occurring in their midst. Tendai’s eyes were wide, his mouth agape, as if he were trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces.
“Why are you telling me this now?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
I smiled, a knowing glint in my eyes. “Nekuti zvinhu zvachinja,” I said, which means “Because things have changed.”
And indeed, they had. With the knowledge of an eighteen-year-old, I could see the threads of fate weaving a different pattern around me. I could feel the weight of my words, heavy with the potential to rewrite history.
“Rudo, you’re not making any sense,” Tendai said, his brow furrowed in confusion.
I reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Tendai, trust me. Sometimes, the heart knows things before the mind can catch up. And my heart knows that this time, everything will be different.”
He looked at me, a mix of skepticism and awe in his gaze. “Saka, chii chichaitika ikozvino?” he asked, which means “So, what happens now?”
I took a deep breath, the scent of jacarandas filling my lungs, and smiled. “Tichazviona,” I replied, promising “We will see.”
With that, I turned and walked away, leaving Tendai standing under the shade of the trees, a witness to the beginning of a new story—one that spanned across the years, connecting past and future with the simple truth of a young girl’s heart.
