Page 91 of Dear Henry, Love Edith
“Don’t you want your pumpkins?”
Edith spun and poked her head around the doorjamb. “Why? So you can tell me in this culture that’s a symbol of my eternal agreement to babysit your children? I don’t think so. Have fun with the pumpkins.”
“Have fun with your sister-in-law,” Kaya’s amused voice called back.
A week later Edith sat cross-legged on the dirt floor, sharing dinner and bashful smiles with Amahle’s brood of children. She didn’t know how long it would take for the newness of her presence to wear off. They stared at her with wide-eyed wonder, probably amazed at the limitless ways she managed to mangle their language.
Amahle, whom Edith suspected was with child again, thankfully extended Edith some grace. She always tried speaking to Edith in English, even if it was a bit broken.
“Good?” Amahle asked, pointing her eyes toward Edith’s bowl ofchakalakaandpap.
“Yes. Very good. Thank you.”
“More?”
“No. Full.” Edith rubbed her belly and Amahle quirked her brow. Dropping her hand, Edith tried again. “No hungry.”No hungry?Amahle wasn’t going to make much progressin her English if Edith continued speaking like that. Edith rose from the floor and started gathering the children’s bowls. “Let me wash these for you.”
“No. No.” Amahle waved her back. In rapid Xhosa, she gave the children their washing orders. “You, come.” She motioned for Edith to follow her. “Come,” she said again.
Edith followed Amahle to a small bench perched outside her grass-thatched rondavel. Amahle sat and patted the space next to her. Amazed the wobbly structure held Amahle, Edith wasn’t convinced she should add her weight.
“Sit.” Amahle caressed the surface. “My husband make this. He tell me, when gone, sit and think of him. I do.” She smiled at Edith, and Edith smiled back. “Sit,” she said again.
All right. Here goes nothing.Edith gingerly lowered herself onto the bench. When it didn’t splinter or crack, she released the breath she’d been holding.
Like many men in the area, Amahle’s husband had to travel to find work and was often gone for long stretches of time, working in one of the mines. Edith would have felt awful if she’d smashed a symbol of their love into the ground as soon as she sat on it.
Edith and Amahle sat in silence for several minutes before the children came outside. As had been the custom every evening since her arrival, they headed straight for the soccer ball Edith had brought with her. The sound of it skimming over the ground was as effective as any trumpet call. Soon other kids joined them, ready for the impromptu game that would last until dark.
“You?” Amahle patted the bench again. “Someone on bench thinking?”
“About me?” Edith gave a small laugh. “I doubt it. I’m pretty sure I burned that bench.”
Seeing Amahle’s furrowed brow and tilt of the head, Edith expelled a deep sigh and shrugged. “I couldn’t stay; he couldn’t leave.” She swiped her hands in front of her. “No bench.”
“You left?”
Edith nodded.
“To comehere?”
Edith smiled and nodded again. “I left to come here. Yes.”
Amahle tucked her chin and blinked several times before—“Why? You have man. You have bench. Why?”
“Oh, you know...” Edith turned her hands into fists and pumped them into the air. “Adventure.”
Amahle mimicked the same gesture. “Adventure?”
“Adventure.”
Amahle shifted her weight on the bench, appearing to contemplate Edith’s explanation. Shouts and cheers, spattered with a few arguments, sprang from the children. A few roaming chickens, not happy with the evening activities, clucked their disapproval from the sidelines. Above it all, the sun cast a faded-orange glow. Beneath it, in the distance, Edith recognized the tiny clump of squares and rectangles where the village hospital was located.
“Why here?” Amahle finally asked.
Edith swept her hand out in front of her. “All of this is an adventure for me. I’m happy I came.”
“Hmm. Mouth happy, but eyes...” She shook her head.
