Run Free

RUN FREE

Richard Mabala

E & D Vision Publishing Dar es Salaam

Smashwords Edition

E & D Vision Publishing Limited P.O.Box 4460

Dar es Salaam

E mail: info@edvisionpublishing.co.tz

Web: www.edvisionpublishing.co.tz

Run Free

Copyright by Richard Mabala, 2013

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 978 9987 735 24 2

ISBN for Print Version: 978-9987-735-10-5

Illustrations: Godwin Chipenya

Foreword

Since 2008, the Children’s Book Project for Tanzania (CBP) has been supporting novel writing and publishing in English with the aim of promoting the learning of English for youth in upper primary and secondary schools. In a country where English is not widely used outside the classroom, efforts need to be in place to support its acquisition through intensive and extensive reading.

The Burt Award for African Literature is aimed at producing books which show the local situation, depicting familiar environments to arouse the interest and enthusiasm of the reader. This way students can develop the habit of reading and enjoying interesting stories while improving their English skills and, therefore, their ability to learn other subjects taught in English. It is indeed the expectation of the project that the Burt Award for African Literature will contribute to success in other subjects.

CBP wishes to thank the panel of judges for their dedication and integrity, CODE and Mr. Burt for broaching and supporting the project and all our stakeholders, including writers, publishers, librarians, teachers and students. Their participation in various ways has made the project a success.

Pili Dumea

Executive Secretary

The Children’s Book Project for Tanzania.

Baba Clara

Unveiling

Hello reader,

This is the story of Rehema and Clara. I know their story because I was with them both almost from the beginning, when they were little children. Of course, I wasn’t with them all the time, but when you get to know people well, you can guess what goes on. You can hear them talking in your head. I even asked them to write their side of the story, as well as Patrick. Rehema and Clara agreed with no difficulty but Patrick was more difficult. Finally, he too agreed, but only if I promised to let him keep his words exactly as he wrote them. So, while this may not be a true story in every word, the actions are true, the feelings are true. Sometimes, I wish they were not true at all.

You see, Clara is my daughter. My only daughter. The apple of my eye and the dream of my life. Clara is so beautiful and so talented. From the beginning, I was sure she would be a big success in whatever she did; that she would compensate for Patrick, my son, who is a big disappointment. At the beginning, Rehema was her friend, even though they were so different in their lives and dreams. Even their running was different, even though it brought them together.

I used to watch them as they ran together. They liked to run down to the main road from our homes, mine and Baba Rashid’s, up on the mountain. On the way down, Clara was always faster. Of course, she was older by two years but that was not the reason. When Clara ran downhill, she seemed to be flying. She was never afraid, she ran as if she didn’t care about what could happen to her. She was just happy to let go. In fact, she laughed all the way down the hill. Rehema would not be far behind but she would not laugh. You could see the concentration on her face, the fear, that maybe she would fall down. Her face would be creased as she tried to choose the right place to put her feet as she ran.

On the way down, Clara seemed to fly

When Clara reached the bottom she was always laughing whereas Rehema would just smile a little, happy to have reached the bottom safely again.

But just wait until they ran uphill on the way home. That was a different story. It was a steep hill and the road was full of bumps and potholes - dusty in the dry season and so slippery in the rainy season. Sometimes, I think Rehema ran uphill faster than she ran downhill. Again you could see the concentration on her face. She lowered her head and gritted her teeth, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, again and again and again. She never stopped; she never slowed down until she reached the top.

Rehema and Clara were like sisters

Then she would stand and laugh at her achievement. Clara would try to keep up with her for a while but in the end, Rehema would always leave Clara behind. And at that time, when they were still young, Clara always seemed to give up if she was left behind. She would call out to Rehema.

Rehemaeee, Rehema, don’t leave me behind. Rehemaaaaa! As soon as she heard that cry, Rehema would always turn around and go running back down the hill till she reached Clara. Then she would start climbing up again with Clara until they reached the top. Rehema was always running, no hill, and no obstacle could stop her.

My Clara and Rehema, they were really like sisters. Why could it not have remained the same? What pushed me to do what I did? But let me start at the beginning.

Baba Clara

Run for fun!

From an early age, Rehema was a runner.

Even when she was very small, she ran everywhere. In the morning, as soon as she woke up and her feet touched the ground, she took her toothbrush and ran outside. Her mother would be up and about already. Rehema did not pay attention to her mother’s chores, instead she ran to each group of animals, the chickens, the goats and the one cow who gave them milk.

Good morning hens, she sang.

And the hens replied, Cluck, cluck, cluck, as they ran helter-skelter around the coop.Rehema always laughed at their simple confusion. She peered into the coop to see if one of them had laid an egg in the night.

Then she went to the goat shed. Good morning goats, she shouted.

And the goats replied. Meeee.Meeee, moving towards her in expectation for something.

Then, always at the end, she ran into the cattle shed.

Good morning my beautiful cow,she would shout happily and touch its head lovingly when the cow lowered it to her level. ‘Mooooooo’ the cow would reply as it looked at the little girl with its soft brown eyes. Moooooooo, it would say again, lifting its head in expectation for some grass.

Then Rehema quickly brushed her teeth, sometimes using toothpaste, sometimes without. Then she ran back into the house for breakfast and waited for her mother to bring them porridge. She was so tiny then. And light as a feather. I think everyone thought that one day when she grew up she would slow down, but it was the opposite. As Rehema grew older, she ran even more. Her brothers were happy because they were never sent on errands. If they needed tea leaves from the shop, they called Rehema and she ran to the shop and back before the water boiled. If they needed tomatoes from the market, they called Rehema and she ran to the market. She ran everywhere.

Just wait till she starts school, the neighbours said. Then she will slow down. And it is true that when she started school, she began to have some problems.

Of course, she was always first to arrive at school because she ran all the way from home, but in school the teachers were not so happy because her running disturbed other pupils.

Rehema slow down for a moment. Why are you always running? You will cause an accident one of these days, one of her teachers warned.

So Rehema tried to walk. But her toes itched, her feet itched, her legs itched and finally she had to start running again. Even when she was punished because she ran and collided against the Headmistress by mistake as she came round the corner of the classroom, she could not stop running.

But finally, after six whole years in primary school, six years of running every day, someone realised that Rehema had a special talent.

She really was a runner.

During her first years in school, there were no sports classes at all. Don’t ask me why. When I was in school, we were always told that if your body is fit, your mind will be fit as well. So we had sports classes and I am sure they were good for us. But then, along came someone who decided that sports prevented pupils from studying. So he gave the order ‘no more sports!’ and that was the end of sports in school. I suppose we are not prepared to disagree with politician ministers. They can wake up and make any order they like, even if some decisions they make seem questionable. Maybe it is because when big politicians become Ministers, they can make decisions without consultations and no one dares to question them.So the talents of Rehema and all those other children got forgotten until another Minister came and allowed pupils to play sports again.

That was when people realised that Rehema had a special talent. By then she was in Standard Seven. Of course, she won the school races and was chosen to run in the district primary school championships. All of us who were there will never forget that day. Rehema was so small. She was surrounded by runners who were much, much bigger than she was, but when we were looking at all those big runners, suddenly Rehema appeared as if she had come through their legs and ran away from them all. She won the race easily. After that day, she was all ready to run in the regional championship. But …. Ah, that