Alvin, was missing. No one knew his whereabouts.
The day was warm and the sky blue with a streak of gray in the foreground. Birds were flying overhead as they sought new pastures for more food, or as they went from forest to watering holes. There was a dam near the school, a short walking distance.
On many occasions my friends and I walked that distance for fishing. Although the dam was not far we were forbidden from staying too long in is waters, or late in the evenings there. There were rumors about ilomba being raised in the dam by some unscrupulous witch or wizard. Wizardry was not uncommon although no one could point out a single practicing witch or wizard.
Alvin was born in 1962. At four, he was a very handsome boy and attractive. We fondly called him boogy cheeks. He had the most disarming smile and inviting eyes. They oozed love. Both family and strangers found him attractive. It was not uncommon for a passer-by to ask whose son he was. By today's standards he would easily win a village contest for the most adorable child. Alvin was already at the point of getting ready to start schooling.
Boys and girls played together in the village yard. Those from teachers' homes played together in the school yard, often joined by kids from the local village, old enough, who strayed far enough away from their parents to join them. They picnicked together and played family games for as long as they could. That usually lasted only a couple of hours at the most, as one mother was bound to come looking for their baby.
Six or seven was not considered a baby. At that age some kids went out to look after goats or to fetch the cows. They were old enough by village standards for a girl to accompany mother to fetch relish from the fields.
My father was a teacher at Hakwambwa Primary School from 1965 to 1970. During one of those years it happened that while he was busy teaching in class, his child disappeared.
Mother was the first to notice. She was alert and knew instantly that something drastic had happened.
It was broad daylight and all the kids were playing together on the school playgrounds. Alvin was with them. But then, he was gone. Everyone asked said they did not know what happened to him or where he might have gone.
At ten, I saw everything going on and heard many things that were said and the people who did or said them. Although it is many decades ago, memories of Alvin triggered a flash back as though it happened yesterday. Something else that happened more recently brought these memories to me.
In 1991 my young family lived in Helen Kaunda compound, Lusaka when our daughter, aged two and a half, went missing. It was late afternoon as she played with friends outside the fence to our rented house. The mother was in the house and I was working on the car, near there. My wife came to me with the look of fear and despondency I never saw before. "She is missing! Rosah is gone!" She cried, and dropped into my hands.
"Where was she? Who was with her? What happened? ... " a stream of questions rushed all over me like a swarm of ants, crowding my mind with fear and dread. How could this happen to us? Our daughter! I was paralyzed in my heart and totally unable to think as we all rushed inside the house. We paused in front of the cupboard inside the house. Nothing meant a thing to me. Everything was hopeless.
I do not know who prayed, my wife or I. It is more likely she prayed because she has always been more spiritual than I. Immediately after that we went outside and split into two directions searching and calling at the same time, "Rosah, Rosah ..." as we went. We met on the other side of a narrow stretch of this sprawling compound. Houses were so close to each other and cramped together so that it was impossible to tell where she might be hidden. We already concluded that she was abducted.
My nightmarish image was that she had a cotton swab placed in her mouth and put to sleep with formalin or something terrible like that. At the same time there was hope that Rosah would be found if only we could have more time of daylight. As it was, the sun was going down rapidly and before long it would be too dark and too late. When we met on the other side of the troubled island of houses I doubt my wife could recognize me, neither could I. We were like rugs of cloth, hanging on thin threads of hope of finding Rosah.
What would happen if we did not find her? What would we do? Where would we go?
Later, when reflecting on that situation my mind went back to the dark days my parents experienced. On day one, with only half a day to search, Alvin he was not found. Evidently, the boy was not merely sleeping in a certain place in the house, he was not in the school playground at all.
My father sent a young man named Jonah, a cousin of mine, to inform the headman who rushed to our house immediately on receiving the news.
Another boy took a bicycle and started off on a one day journey to Nadongo to inform my Uncle, mother's brother. Another message was sent to my father's brother in another village a short distance from my Uncle's village.
Village Criers were sent out into the outlying villages loudly announcing as they went, "The headmaster's son is missing, His name is Alvin. If you find him please bring him home."
Notices were posted at cross-roads for any information that might lead to the finding of Alvin. The notice read: Head teacher's boy missing. Answers to name, Alvin. Please take him home. That first day ended, chickens returned to their huts and the household too.
We had three dogs who barked throughout the night. When they seemed to calm down, one of them would spring up and start over, only to be joined by the others. They gave themselves no rest, as though they understood what was going on or the stakes. I did not really sleep. I tried closing my eyes but my mind would not shut down or rest. I kept looking through the window on the wall of our bedroom as if for a sign that Alvin was safe wherever he was.
There were three big boys in the home; two of them were on errands to far away places. I wondered what they would have said about the missing brother. Would they say he was taken by a wild animal and eaten? Would they say perhaps, Alvin was taken by a snake and swallowed alive, and whole? What would they say? I would have to wait until they came, they knew better how to explain things like this.
I saw my mother. I heard her sobbing and crying throughout the night. She never slept. The night prevented further searches for the missing boy. I did not hear my father's voice, neither did I actually see him. I knew he was in the house all the time, throughout the night. They were together. What was he doing? What was he thinking? What was he planning to do?
The second day was a Saturday. My Uncle and his companions traveled from Nadongo on foot, by night, arriving just after noon on the second day. The group of women, mostly of mother's age, arrived much later in the evening. Although they were tired from walked through hills and valleys they were fully alert and engaged with the situation at hand. The whole community took part in the search for Alvin.
The entire school was put on unofficial break; no one could sit in class to teach or learn. While every teacher and student placed their minds on the issue at hand. The villagers came to my father's house offering their condolences and some offering their advice.
My Uncle was visibly angry. When he arrived he was heard throughout the village shouting his name and threatening death to the person responsible for the disappearance of the boy. "Ndime Hacinzi, naa tamubazi bakali, kono mulababona." (ChiTonga, literary translated: I am so and so (series of personal names), if you do not know angry people, you will know them this time." For all the time I saw him he was standing and pacing up and down around the house, like a mad man. His eyes were red and and threatening and his face painted in utter warfare. The stick he carried in one hand appeared larger than life.
I knew my Uncle from previous times we visited in their home in Nadongo. He was a kind man and caring too. I loved him very much. The other time he came to our house and spent the best part of a month. He was always jovial and sat down to drink his beer under the tree without anyone giving him any problem. He was a happy man. His wife and children were back in their village. He loved his sister and cared for her and her children. I sat down to discuss different matters with my Uncle. Never once did I feel threatened by his appearance or actions.
This time I was looking at a different man. I realized I did not know my Uncle. He suddenly became the big, powerful creature, the picture of a protector gone wild, one who will not be pacified, one who will do anything for his children and his sister's children. I felt safe and secure under this cover of protection.
People kept coming to our house and leaving afterwards. They came to find out what happened. They traveled from far and near, wherever the news of the missing boy reached.
A teacher from Keemba primary school came to see my father. He told him about another instance of a missing boy earlier in the history of another school near Hakwamba. The end of that boy was as mysterious as the day he went missing. Although his clothes were later recovered his body was never found. My father learnt that it was not the first time this was happening in the area. That only intensified his and mother's fears.
In the afternoon of Saturday, all the boys were instructed to go out into the villages along paths Alvin might have followed and also to the dam, looking out for any signs of his presence or clothing there. We combed the area and later returned in our twos as we went out with no good report.
My Uncle and my dad's brother left that same evening shortly after the women from Nadongo arrived, to find a witch-doctor. The witch-doctor would reveal the boy's whereabouts. That was certain to happen, they believed.
They returned when it was already very dark in the night and said nothing to anyone. They were quiet for the rest of the night as if they had sworn to a pact of secrecy. The shouting and ranting that went on when they arrived stopped. They were speaking in low tones and evidently plotting some big strategies for finding Alvin.
To be continued... what happened to Alvin, what happened to Rosah? Would you like to know?
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