toast-eating twin. That way she never has to tell a lie. But I have told her it makes no difference because she is aiding and abetting me, which just makes her a silent guilty party.
“And the witch?” Mum said.
I probably forgot to mention that Mum also thinks that Nokokulu is a witch. Mum who is a doctor – who spent years studying science to become a doctor. She thinks our neighbour Fred’s great-granny is a witch. Sort of.
Dad is on my side in the Witch versus Science debate.
He didn’t say anything this time, just clutched his head as if he was in agony.
Mum looked embarrassed, like Madillo does when she’s said something ridiculous. I think sometimes she lets things like that out before thinking about them.
“I was only joking,” she added quickly.
She should have just kept quiet and let the whole thing pass with a mere head clutch.
“No you weren’t,” Dad said. “You actually think that here, on Twin Palms Road in twenty-first century Zambia, we live next door to a witch. Which part of our medical degree was taught under the heading Witches and Other Magical Things? I must have been asleep that day.”
“I just think there are some things that science can’t explain, that’s all. It’s not a sin,” Mum said, leaving the room. A good way to end an argument, I suppose, leaving the other person with no one to argue with any more.
Dad looked at Madillo still munching away. “This is all your fault, you know,” he said, grinning. “My wife, your dear mother, never thought anything like this till the day you came home from Fred’s and announced that we now live next door to a witch. It was the day Nokokulu came to live with them, do you remember?”
Madillo nodded.
If Madillo is involved in a less than truthful occasion she just nods or mumbles. I can tell immediately. All she wanted right then was for Dad to leave the room in case he went back to the subject of us going over to Fred’s. She wasn’t even defending her witch theory.
Dad shook his head. “So what are you going to do at Fred’s?”
This time she couldn’t keep silent as it was a direct question.
“Nothing much. Usual stuff,” she replied.
Dad is very easily satisfied by answers that aren’t answers, so he just said, “Oh,” and left the room. Probably to hunt down Mum so he could carry on the argument.
Mum always tells him that he should listen to us with more than half an ear, which is an expression I still cannot quite picture. But in this case she was right.
If it had been Mum asking the question she would have wanted to know what “nothing much” meant and what kind of “usual stuff”. But, luckily for us, not only was she embarrassed by her witch comment, but her mind was also on other things. Sad things.
BULL - BOO
Doomed Archaeologists
On the way to school today we stopped to wait for Fred at his gate and Nokokulu was in the garden. She didn’t say anything, just waved at us with a maniacal grin on her face. I first discovered the word “maniacal” when I was trying to describe Sister Leonisa and Dad suggested it. I suppose it’s not really fair but it does describe Sister better than any other word does.
Madillo grabbed my arm. “She knows. She knows what we’re planning – you can see it.”
“She always looks like that,” I said. “How could she possibly know?”
“She has ways and means,” Madillo said quietly, still holding onto my arm.
At that point Nokokulu said, “Ha!”
Just that, nothing more. Madillo may well have been right. Nokokulu’s voice had a triumphant sound to it.
Fred came running down the driveway, his shoes in one hand and his lunch in the other. He is always late.
“Sorry, sorry, I’m ready now,” he said as he waved goodbye to Nokokulu with the hand holding the shoes.
We started walking, and Madillo said, “Fred, I think she knows our plan.”
“No, she doesn’t,” he said confidently. “If she did she would have said something. She’s no good
“And the witch?” Mum said.
I probably forgot to mention that Mum also thinks that Nokokulu is a witch. Mum who is a doctor – who spent years studying science to become a doctor. She thinks our neighbour Fred’s great-granny is a witch. Sort of.
Dad is on my side in the Witch versus Science debate.
He didn’t say anything this time, just clutched his head as if he was in agony.
Mum looked embarrassed, like Madillo does when she’s said something ridiculous. I think sometimes she lets things like that out before thinking about them.
“I was only joking,” she added quickly.
She should have just kept quiet and let the whole thing pass with a mere head clutch.
“No you weren’t,” Dad said. “You actually think that here, on Twin Palms Road in twenty-first century Zambia, we live next door to a witch. Which part of our medical degree was taught under the heading Witches and Other Magical Things? I must have been asleep that day.”
“I just think there are some things that science can’t explain, that’s all. It’s not a sin,” Mum said, leaving the room. A good way to end an argument, I suppose, leaving the other person with no one to argue with any more.
Dad looked at Madillo still munching away. “This is all your fault, you know,” he said, grinning. “My wife, your dear mother, never thought anything like this till the day you came home from Fred’s and announced that we now live next door to a witch. It was the day Nokokulu came to live with them, do you remember?”
Madillo nodded.
If Madillo is involved in a less than truthful occasion she just nods or mumbles. I can tell immediately. All she wanted right then was for Dad to leave the room in case he went back to the subject of us going over to Fred’s. She wasn’t even defending her witch theory.
Dad shook his head. “So what are you going to do at Fred’s?”
This time she couldn’t keep silent as it was a direct question.
“Nothing much. Usual stuff,” she replied.
Dad is very easily satisfied by answers that aren’t answers, so he just said, “Oh,” and left the room. Probably to hunt down Mum so he could carry on the argument.
Mum always tells him that he should listen to us with more than half an ear, which is an expression I still cannot quite picture. But in this case she was right.
If it had been Mum asking the question she would have wanted to know what “nothing much” meant and what kind of “usual stuff”. But, luckily for us, not only was she embarrassed by her witch comment, but her mind was also on other things. Sad things.
BULL - BOO
Doomed Archaeologists
On the way to school today we stopped to wait for Fred at his gate and Nokokulu was in the garden. She didn’t say anything, just waved at us with a maniacal grin on her face. I first discovered the word “maniacal” when I was trying to describe Sister Leonisa and Dad suggested it. I suppose it’s not really fair but it does describe Sister better than any other word does.
Madillo grabbed my arm. “She knows. She knows what we’re planning – you can see it.”
“She always looks like that,” I said. “How could she possibly know?”
“She has ways and means,” Madillo said quietly, still holding onto my arm.
At that point Nokokulu said, “Ha!”
Just that, nothing more. Madillo may well have been right. Nokokulu’s voice had a triumphant sound to it.
Fred came running down the driveway, his shoes in one hand and his lunch in the other. He is always late.
“Sorry, sorry, I’m ready now,” he said as he waved goodbye to Nokokulu with the hand holding the shoes.
We started walking, and Madillo said, “Fred, I think she knows our plan.”
“No, she doesn’t,” he said confidently. “If she did she would have said something. She’s no good
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