My lies are the whole truth

REGULAR readers of this column will recall that a few weeks back we visited that Singapha lady. We saw the creative Singapha invite friends for prayer sessions at her house so that she could show off her newly acquired double-bed.

Several readers have remarked that Singapha is not alone in coming up with imaginative ways of announcing her good fortune.

“I remember,” a reader told me, “the events of one Saturday afternoon when I was 12. Mother arrived from our rural home and updated us on developments there. Father pulled me aside and instructed me to come and see him later at the local beer garden. He got me to rehearse what I would say.”

(I will continue to narrate the anecdote in the reader’s own words.)

Just after sunset, I tiptoed towards the corner father and his cabinet usually met. Six of them set on benches, forming a semi-circle. A two- litre plastic mug was frothing in front.

Father looked surprised to see me. He sprung up to his feet and walked towards me.

“What’s wrong son?” he asked.

“Nothing serious,” I said. “Mother just arrived from home and says Mpevukazi has given birth to a female calf.”

“Oh,” father yelled, clasping his hands together, “that favourite cow of mine has done it again. Let’s see, I now have six calves and 30 fully grown cattle.”

“You are a man among men,” father’s friends murmured with admiration. One of them even stood to pat his back.

“It is nothing guys,” my embarrassed father said, spreading out his hands. He thanked me and waved me off.

“You did not have to come and tell me such a minor thing.”

“I don’t get it,” I confronted father when he came home. “You always stress that I tell the truth all the time, but today you made me tell lies. You only have 15 cattle and three calves. Why . . .”

“Son, when it comes to livestock, all the members of my cabinet tell lies. They double the real figures of their possessions. We men assess our worth by the number of cattle we own. If I give out the true figures of my livestock, I would be wrongly assessed. Telling lies levels the playing field. So, my lies are the truth.”

I am not a philosopher dear reader. I leave you to decide if this man was right or not to lie.

Another reader told me about her fashion conscious and competitive friend called Mary.

This fact may not be found in any history book, but Mary was the first person in Zimbabwe to own a microwave. Her sister sent her one from the United States at a time when this kitchen appliance was commonplace even in that country.

A day after the microwave was received, Mary organised a garden party to celebrate a Master’s degree her sister had acquired. Some questioned how the sister had done this when she was a full-time waitress. “If you are bright and willing to work hard, anything is possible over there,” Mary told the doubters.

For all her boasts about “excellence in everything I do,” the serving of food at Mary’s party was poor. Guests were served rice and potatoes but had to wait a long time before gravy and meats were dished.

As if this delay had not been long enough, Mary launched into a long prayer. By the time the guests started to eat, their meals were cold.

“Sorry about the delay my friends,” a confident looking Mary announced. “I will see what we can do about it.”

She took one of the guest’s plates and walked to an oven on one of the tables. No one at the party had ever seen an oven like it.

“It’s a stove without the heating plates,” one guest remarked.

Mary laughed. “It’s called a microwave my dear.” She popped it open and placed the plate in. She switched the oven on with a flourish and it whirred for thirty seconds.

Like a magician pulling out a rabbit from the hat, Mary retrieved the plate and gave it back to the guest. “Goodness me!” the guest exclaimed, “the food is warm”.

“The wonders of a microwave,” Mary said with a triumphant smile. “Come on guys, queue up and I warm your meals. I can even warm two plates at a time. This microwave has specially tuned metal racks making it possible to put one plate over the other.”

In 10 minutes, all the guests were eating warm meals.

“Someday,” Mary later said to her friend, “the microwave will be a common kitchen item but all of the people who are here this afternoon will be saying: “we first saw it at Mary’s place.”

Personally, I love the Singaphas of the world. They give welcome laughter to this otherwise too serious world.