It was at this party, this sultry party on a sultry night with wet-blanket air thick with the tang of lemons, this party with steadily depleting and magically refilling trays of almost-cool Primus weaving in and out of the crowd, this party with its golden rings of pretty girls and flashy boys sitting in chairs under the trees in the garden, it was at this party when his life stood still, slid sideways, tilted around, stopped and sped up, all at once.
But then, there, he was Mzee. An approximation of Moses, because even twenty-six years ago, as a fat, unwrinkled, chub-chub of a baby, he was old for his age. Sage. Wise as Moses. Mzee.
Maybe ‘old’ is not the right word. Surely it isn’t. Because he is lively, alive, mischievous, quick with a trick or a joke, so fashionable – au-courant – and skinny-juicy-sexy. He has cheekbones that could slice cheese and rich lips which God surely intended for others to bite. No one can be this fat with life and juice and joie-de-vivre and be bony-hipped at the same time unless young. Old is not the right word.
And with the naming of Mzee, again and again and again each day, his family and friends are confirming his responsibility. His maturity. His ability to see beyond the end of his nose, to take the long view, and see himself – no, really know himself – in the midst of his family. A result of his family. The future of his family. Unlike his friends, his brother, even his father and his polygamous uncles, and legions of young men-boys across the hip-hop, pop, rock-listening world, he is not a man concocted in the imaginings of a mirror, all smooth-skinned post-shave pride and prejudice (he doesn’t shave often enough for that, it’s true). An exultant Me! who springs whole from the head of himself, beholden only to himself – no. He is not that young man, this Mzee.
The call. Came just after midnight. Just the time for the not-coming home, on my way home, will you be home, you better get home, where are you and why aren’t you home calls.
You need to come home. They are leaving. Kabila has sent them home. There will be trouble. This is a different call, altogether.
Still, he wears his easy charming smile of square almost-white teeth and a gap between the front ones that in other places – in Canada, The West, the US, maybe Europe too but not Britain – looks unfixed, unfinished. There, here, such teeth beg to be enmeshed in a web of steel, wire, elastics, and time; beg to be taken firmly in hand by an expert in these matters. There, then, the gap is sexy. Maybe because it does indeed signal that the wearer, the flasher of quick-slow smiles, needs to be taken firmly in hand but by another kind of expert. The pretty girl kind. The hopeful. The kind who believe they can fill in the blanks, bridge the gaps.
Surreal. Shadows tilting this way and that, falling over the eyes of his acquaintances, friends, neighbours, as though they are shielding their eyes from what is coming. Now.
Only one country away, four years ago, Tutsis – his family members, friends – were being murdered by their neighbours, friends and even family who fell on the other side of the ethnic tree.
And now Mzee is not Mzee. Now, he’s a Tutsi. He’s possibly not even Congolese anymore. He’s always heard that (“there are no Congolese Tutsi”) or suspected he heard that or deliberately ignored that he heard that, knowing that this is, of course, not true. At least at this particular minute, or in the minute before the call.
Before life as he knew it – easy, regular, familial, set up for smiling at pretty girls who like his very good job and even better car – ended.
wow. sexy, thought provoking and sad. made wars that seem so far away – both physically and psychically – seem much more real.
[Reply]
Kelly Diels
replied:
on February 6th, 2010 at 9:21 am
@ami | 40daystochange, you have no idea how much that means to me.
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Some awe here. What was that??? Am I blushing? Am I faint? Will there be more?
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there will be more. I’m trying to decide if this is a book proposal for *gasp* PRINT or if I’m going to run a bit every week…
[Reply]
K-Diels,
This is really phenomenal. You’ve got amazing writing talent, the kind of talent that makes other people want to find their talent.
I mean it’s crisp, creates an environment all its own, and completely brought me into the reality of what you created.
Thoroughly enjoyed it… if you’ve got the smallest incling to take this some where… do it.
Not to mention the topic’s one that’s needed to be made personal for a long time.
Peace and elbow grease,
Me
[Reply]
Kelly Diels
replied:
on February 6th, 2010 at 2:03 pm
@Chase Brumfield, I am very inclined to do something with this. This is loosely based on a story my ex told me. We’re working on a fictionalized version of his life. I’m just trying to decide what the best venue for the story is.
[Reply]
Lots of cleavage in here. Powerful cleavage.
[Reply]
Kelly Diels
replied:
on February 6th, 2010 at 10:49 pm
@Dave Doolin, Thank you. Glad you said so. Always glad you do.
[Reply]
Wow, just wow. Brings to mind Nadine Gordimer.
[Reply]
Kelly Diels
replied:
on February 6th, 2010 at 10:49 pm
@Lianne, holy shit. As in Nobel Prize Winner for literature (I just googled that, full on admit it)? I WILL TAKE IT.
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Again, I bow before you filled with humble servitude. HOW do we get you even more noticed by the print powers that be?
My favorite part?
“No one can be this fat with life and juice and joie-de-vivre and be bony-hipped at the same time unless young. Old is not the right word.”
That’s me so of course, I love it.
[Reply]
Kelly Diels
replied:
on February 7th, 2010 at 5:05 pm
@Kelly, maybe it starts with (a) finishing something and (b) writing a proposal? I could do those things. They are on the list. It is a very long list.
[Reply]
Kelly
replied:
on February 7th, 2010 at 6:09 pm
@Kelly Diels, Well. Yes. There is THAT and I hear ya darling. I have 6 blogs.
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I followed Dave over here. Your writing is luscious and exquisite. Kudos from a Burnaby neighbour.
[Reply]
Kelly Diels
replied:
on February 7th, 2010 at 5:05 pm
@Karilee, thank you. I used to live in Burnaby (South and North) so hey! Neighbour!
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I have friends who left Kinshasa in 1998 when this stuff went down. Very interesting! What next?
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This post made me drool and inspired me further to keep writing, to keep going for my dreams as an artist. Hear my story here: http://mymommymanual.com/how-to-keep-following-your-bliss/
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