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Isdore Guvamombe Reflections
This is not fiction, neither is it a script for an African movie. It is real and a good lesson for many men, too. Back in the village in the land of milk, honey and dust or Guruve, what is said over the dead lion’s body cannot be said to him alive.
While this villager would not have penned this instalment three moons ago, today he can safely talk about it. It is over!

Only when you have crossed the river can you say the crocodile has a lump on his snout.

Some 16 years ago, while this villager was staying somewhere outside Harare, there was one of those silly things men do and the villager hooked up with a woman and a few days later, naturally, his blood got hot and whatever happened, you can guess.

As fate would have it, the woman disappeared from the scene and the next time this villager was to hear about her was through a maintenance court order 15 years later.

There was a default court judgment and this villager’s employer had been instructed to deduct maintenance.

Shocked, inquisitive and doubtful, the villager went on an investigation spree and the route was to go for paternity tests.

To just wake up one day and discover you have a 15-year-old daughter is really shocking, especially when you are a public figure who never left the country for nay greener pastures.

The name on the child’s birth certificate bore no villager’s surname but the court papers did. Fetid!

Meanwhile, the civil court still insisted that while the villager was not served with papers properly, he would maintain the child until paternity tests showed otherwise. At the same time, the woman involved played several tricks to avert the tests and, worse still, to have this villager see the child in question.

Six months into the case the villager eventually managed to force, through the courts, paternity tests. The deductions never stopped.

Just after the tests, she upped the deductions on the basis that the child was now going to secondary school. One morning while the villager penned his copy at work, some young man popped up, claiming he was the villager’s son-in-law and that the child the villager was maintaining, was actually his wife.

The man claimed he stayed next door to the girl’s mother at Ushewekunze Housing Co-operative in Harare South.

She had eloped with him and had never gone to secondary school.

True to tradition, this villager requested that the boy brings his parents and indeed they came.

They were actually proud to have such a daughter-in-law and were preparing to pay lobola.

By their own admission, the villager’s “daughter” had eloped just two months into the maintenance.

The mother kept it under wraps but kept on receiving maintenance. She had actually been given her share of the lobola.

When approached, the mother, who only talked to the villager through the phone, admitted the child had been married off three days before turning 16 but insisted she must continue getting maintenance because she had taken care of the child for 15 years without a cent from the villager.

As fate would have it, three days later the paternity test results came and hey, the villager was pronounced not to be the father of the child.

The woman’s story line changed. She was very sorry. It was a mix-up. She had been married for 14 years and divorced because the husband kept on insisting the child was not his. In confusion, she had counted back the years and picked up the villager as the potential culprit but there had been two others.

It was back to court again, this time around the villager wanted to recover his money. Granted by the court and with Messenger of Court in tow, the villager left for Ushewokunze.

The search started . . . After a few hours we got the shack. Lo and behold, it was a real shack. Nothing to attach! Four children played in the mud outside. It turned out the woman had two pairs of twins, besides the villager’s “daughter.”

This villager, who has never expected honey from a fly, decided enough was enough! Back in the village no fly gives you honey. It was God’s case no appeal. It is the story of this villager’s life.

By her own admission and by neighbours’ admission, she was an epitome of poverty. The story line of her life changed. The two pairs of twins belonged to different fathers. She was always begging for food from the neighbourhood. She was poverty herself.

This villager, who has never expected honey from a fly, decided enough was enough! Back in the village no fly gives you honey. It was God’s case no appeal. It is the story of this villager’s life.