Who Was To Blame

By Mateso Kazembe

Kabudula had been on the hospital bed for months and his body was cruelly wasted. He was frail and engulfed in enormous pain. Stubbing pains had bivouacked in his chest and a constant numbing pain was in his legs. His entire body was present to him in a variety of aches and severe pains.

Doctors had already confessed to him that there was utterly nothing they could do. Even friends and relatives who visited him had such terror in their eyes. As they offered their “get well soons” their facial expressions vividly revealed to him that just a matter of days remained before he died.

He was HIV positive. The circumstances that had seen him contracting the virus were phenomenal. Five years previously when he was at college, there had been a certain lovely girl, called Berita, who without equivocation was an exquisite work of nature with the profile of a finely honed hatchet.

Kabudula fall in love the moment he set his eyes on her. He asked her out for weeks, suggesting lunch, drinks or just a mere chat, but his attempts were barren of results. Every effort he applied went down the drain, as Berita kept saying no. And more disturbing was the inattention she gave her. On many occasions, she would take a swift look at him and look away without the slightest hint of recognition in her eyes.

These unfolding events disturbed Kabudula’s equanimity. Many-a-time, he wanted to quit, but he just could not get the wonder of her exquisite beauty. A raging void in his heart ached for her to fill it. He was desperate to win her.

However, Berita confessed openly upon his insistence for a date that he was not a type of a guy he would go for and Kabudula felt like a drowned rat. Her vividness damaged his personal pride and bruised his heart greatly.

And to cap his desolation, Berita fall in love with Chinge. Chinge was a son of a certain business tycoon and nothing about him was attractive expect for his money. He, as well as being vain as a peacock, was a spindle legged, bigheaded bumptious student whose love for ladies was a mere sham. He had a reputation of using and dumping them at will. Most students detested his vile habits and supercilious demeanour.

Kabudula painfully suffered his fate silently. He could not fathom why Berita had opted for Chinge of all people. In every respect he was the better man. Even money-wise, he could compete with Chinge. Finally, he came to believe that ladies were fastidious.

Months passed by and his wounds refused to heal. He could not gather his bruised thoughts and look forward positively. He could not forget Berita. Rather than hurting her, he liked the girl and wished her well in life praying for a second chance that finally came in very peculiar circumstances.
It was on a muggy Saturday evening when Kabudula left for the classes to study for a History exam that Monday. He splurged into his favourite class, not realising Berita was in the same class. In fact if he had known she was there, he would not have gone in. Kabudula preferred this room because it was not a darling to most students. It was close to the college bar and TV rooms. When Berita saw him, she gave him the mildly annoyed and momentarily glance that she had perfected to ward off him and looked away.

But Kabudula absently trudged to her desk to say hi. But, Berita’s response came as though from someone whose chest was in a vice. She also had difficulty breathing as she looked at him.

Kabudula remained stationary, confused. He knew Berita well. This was not how she talked to him. She looked uncomfortable. He figured that something was wrong. Then in a moment, Kabudula saw Berita hiding something-a green book

“What are you hiding from me?” he asked reaching for the book but Berita pushed him away and in the process the book collapsed to the ground. His heart made a tumble when his eyes caught the title of the book. Memories flooded into his mind quickly. It was a History book that had gone missing from the lecturer’s office some months before. The lecturer had put up notices pleading with whosoever had taken it to return it. But the plea was unheard and because of its missing we had ceased learning the History course.

“I can’t believe this,” he said out of breath, shattered, “This can’t be true. Oh my. You’ve transgressed the bounds of decency. You serpent!” he added accusingly.

Tears welled up in Berita’s eyes.

“Don’t tell anyone, please,” She begged helplessly and desperately with a sorrowful mien. “My grades goaded me into this.”

“Stop niggling dear, I have finally nabbed you,” Kabudula said accusingly beginning to enjoy every moment. “I can’t grant amnesty to nincompoops like you.”

“Kabudula, please,” She flopped down on her knees begging. Her cheerful appearance was gone. She was sweating at every pore and on the brink of tears. “I’ll do everything, just ask…”

“What do you mean everything?” he asked in feigned incomprehension. He wanted to shout victory. This lady, had felt was untouchable but she was now hankering for his sympathy. What was he to do? Report her? Well, he felt that was not the best option. The cup had come within the grasp of his fingers and he decided to pull the trigger right away. He asked her for a one-night stand and got Aids in the end.

He had been the happiest man on campus to peg such a beauty, but that happiness was replaced with despair when he tested positive.
Who was to blame for his predicament anyway? Was it Berita, love or himself? Kabudula felt that this was a question he would take with him to the grave unanswered.