Two Hangmen, One Scaffold Book II: In The Hangman�s Shadow

Chapter 20

195 C Chapter 20 fter supper, Matipa sat tacit in a sofa, thinking. One thing was clear in her mind; she wasn’t going back to adulterous Pastor Ojo Ojele’s tabernacle in Kadoma, whatever the eighth verse of the second chapter of Jonah implied or meant. Outside, an owl hooted continuously. Her continued stay in the compound roused more chagrin by the day. As it were, many people had died and the general perception obtaining was that Bomani would slaughter more people one way or the other. The controversial eulogist had said it. Tomorrow, 11 December, she would find a suitable place in the local graveyard and dig a grave. Whoever tried to stop her would meet her wrath. Then she would look for a goat to buy whose head she would bury. With Peza symbolically buried, perhaps turmoil would leave her mind and she would be able to think more logically. Perhaps after the burial she would consider leaving Sakis Mine. Who was this Binga Jochoma? Could her husband by some chance be the man the soldiers wanted to arrest? Bomani started a simple chain that led to the police. The police informed the army. It continued to puzzle her why Bomani Kumanda came looking for him, and why he had the temerity to set a person on fire and kidnap Peza. Somewhere in their two rooms had to be something enciphered about Akar Muja, something that would demystify everything, or at least prove whether Akar Muja was indeed Binga Jochoma. There just had to be some document or something that revealed his identity. Where would she start? Although she was familiar with every item in the house, when she went through a mental inventory of everything in their two rooms, she saw that she wasn’t quite familiar with the things stuffed in two sacks in the bedroom. After making sure she had locked and latched the main door, she went into the A 196 bedroom and overturned one of the hessian bags on the floor. Dust stung her nostrils and she doubled and sneezed, her eyes watering. She sat on the edge of the bed and unhurriedly sifted through the things her husband had treasured ever since she had known him. Old novels, dictionaries and magazines, from editions of Readers Digests, Home & Garden, Newsweek and Time to mining bulletins and geological maps of Zimbabwe were in a jumble of loose printed papers. Two glossy Italian tourist guides were among the items. She went through the items, one by one. She came across a leather-bound diary eight years old, perusal material. The name on the diary was Akar Muja. Most of its pages were blank. Its scattered entries, hardly decipherable, were a disappointment. The entries were in Akar’s hand but they were in a coded calligraphy. Scientific, mathematical and religious symbols amid small drawings between words completely impeded her understanding. One thing was certain; the man had something to hide and had to have a good reason for it. She put the dairy on the bed and looked at the maps. Finding nothing interesting in them, she continued sifting. Then she came across a bunch of rolled architectural plans and blueprints. Some were titled The Louvre, others The Musée du Louvre. The translucent papers showed the floor plan of a complex building with interconnected rooms. In a wide courtyard with the drawing of a pyramid on its centre, Akar had written entrance with a blue pen and scribbled the words blend well. The maps seemed to be saying something to her. For the sake of revisiting them, she spread the maps on the bed and resumed sifting until she came across a small spiral-bound notepad. The Eiffel Tower decorated its cover. All its pages were blank except one in the middle where her husband’s hand had written: 197 Louvre Admission 9.50 Euros. Open every day except: Tues 1st Jan 1st May 11 Nov Christmas. Hrs 9 am to 6 pm Until 9:45 pm on Wed & Fri Matipa was perplexed. Surely, there was something furtive about her husband. Akar was neither an architect nor a builder. Manifestly, he had a peculiar interest in a place or building called The Louvre. Paris appeared to have fascinated him, an aspect of his she hadn’t known. When the storm cooled, if ever it would abate, she would be glad to hear about...