In the shrubs he could hear a movement that made him skip out of his wits. Suddenly he stopped walking and turned to look at his side but could not see anything in the shrub. He held his breathe and kept his feet to the ground and remained there for the next few seconds, as if his feet were glued with concrete to the earth. The shrubs shook again, this time vigorously and he was not sure whether to remain there or run. Without a word of warning he began to run away. He ran in the darkness aware of the path yet unaware of where his footsteps landed. He did not know where his feet landed more than where they were taking him because he was drunk. He had sold his last pair of shoes to buy beer.
He ran for his life, holding his breathe to save it for the next layby. He ran out of the fear of the unknown, as fast as his feet could carry him. All the efforts he had been saving all his sixty-five years he unveiled at the moment to escape his tremendous fears. He had been running all his life and this was no new proposal to stretch his legs away from something to escape from. All that ever occurred to him was his safety and peace in his own comfort zone. Every challenge was a bomb about to explode for him and since he had no fire extinguisher in his guts to cool down the fire he ran away. Running was his medicine to an infirmity, a solution to a problem, an answer to a question.
Sekuru Chishuwo kept running. His mind had recorded danger after hearing the sound of a strange movement that was unseen, and immediately he realized that his safety was compromised. He jumped over horizontal logs and pushed away branches that hung in the road. He was an old man, but when he was running away from something, he was young again. His drunkenness had subsided to give room for self-consciousness. In the process of running, he came across a log which he jumped over with all his might and while his feet landed on the other side, he trampled upon a small sharp stone that pieced his sore right to the bone. He felt a sharp pain that shook his whole body down and he fell to the ground, hitting his face to the ground. He felt so much fear as his leg froze with pain. He stood up quickly with his left leg bent and not touching the ground and began to hope away towards the village.
He arrived at the doorstep of his hut and his wife was cooking sadza and ham.
Ambuya: Sekuru, what happened? Did they attack you again? I told you not to go back to the bar. Look now, you are a mess and you are bleeding.
Sekuru: No ambuya, it’s not that. I tripped over a stone and now my leg is bleeding.
Ambuya: Mai vangu shava! How did that happen? Why did you take off your shoes?
Sekuru: I sold them to buy beer.
Ambuya Chishuwo helps sekuru to sit near the fire and rushes to bring warm water and a towel.
Ambuya: Baba VaNdakudza you act like your grandchildren. This is not something an old man should be doing at your age. You forgot to bring the goat back in its yard. It’s still out there we have to go and get it before wild animals attack it.
Sekuru: I can’t walk Mai VaNdakudza. Go and get it on your own. Take the torch. I tied it in the shrubs along the path to the bottle store.
Ambuya Chishuwo grabs the torch and goes to look for the goat. While Sekuru remained in the hut sipping a cup of tea his wife had prepared for him, he remembers that the anonymous sound in the shrubs which he was running away from was made by the goat. Suddenly he pours his tea into the fire with anger and shouts, “Haibo!”