Paul Hardy - The Last Man on Earth Club

He paused, and swallowed, as though trying to settle his stomach.

“I went looking for them. And I found them. I became one of them. I mean to say… I remember these things. I remember doing this. And I remember him .”

“Who…?”

“The man in my dream. The one dressed as a woman.”

“Do you remember anything else about him…?”

“I married him.”

I couldn’t help my surprised expression. “Oh…”

“It was blasphemous! Disgusting! They would do this at the bars, two men would… they would have a ceremony in the bar, one of the men dressed up as a woman… I cannot say more…”

I felt he had much more to say despite his protestation, but did not press him.

“And all this time, the war in Horonga was going on. Good men were dying for their country and I was… fucking a man. Or was I? I don’t know…”

“Let’s keep moving. What happened next?”

“The bar was raided by police. She, he… agh! I keep thinking of that creature as a woman! He. He fled. And then I was posted overseas. To Horonga, of course, though the war had ended. I did not see her — him . I did not see him for many years.”

“Did he have a name?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me?”

“He called himself Mudiwa. A woman’s name. I do not know his real name.”

“Mudiwa will do.”

“The name is a lie. A disgusting lie. Like him.” At some point we were going to have to deal with his homophobia, but I didn’t want to push him too far while he was making so much progress, so I decided to move on.

“Okay, so we’re up to 143 RY on the second column. What about the first one?”

“I was still in Horonga.”

“Still fighting?”

“No. The war was brief. We held the straits and controlled sea traffic but Sanganyikan forces invaded from the north. We beat them back and occupied the northern shore of the straits; then we built a wall to keep them out. The Chifunyikans helped us with automated defensive systems. I left when they were being installed. I could have stayed and had a career in the army but… it was not what I wanted.”

“What did you want?”

“I wanted to make a difference. There were soldiers coming to us who could not read, who did not know the most basic arithmetic, and yet they were expected to operate the Chifunyikan biofeedback systems. Mutapa had become a backwater. Poor children were playing in mud while the rich amused themselves with imported video games. Our education system only trained the poor to operate machines in factories, but we needed to give them more, much more.” He sighed and looked at me. “Of course I do not have to convince you…”

“No, you’re right. Education is vital. I take it this is all in the first column?”

He looked back at the wall. “Yes. I left the military here. In 143. I took a teaching job at a university, I joined the Free Liberal Party, and the Mutapan Education Society. We campaigned for educational reform. I would even hand out leaflets in the street. And that was where I met Jendayi…”

His voice trailed off into sadness.

“Your wife?”

“Yes. My true wife.”

“Do you… remember her?”

“No. I still cannot recall her face.”

“But there are some things you do remember?”

“I remember how we met. I remember courting her. I remember our marriage. I remember our children… but there are no pictures. I see nothing. I only feel…”

The silence overcame him again.

“Do you want to stop?” He didn’t answer. “If it’s too much, we can come back tomorrow…”

He snapped his attention onto me. “No.”

“Kwame?”

“I do not want to do this. I must .”

“Okay then. If you’re sure.” I looked back at the screen. “So all this here, down to…”

“I was elected to parliament in 149.”

“149. Okay. So that’s you starting your political career. What’s happening in column two?”

“I remember many places. Many parts of the world. I think I was in uniform, as an engineer. Perhaps at Mutapan embassies. I am not sure. There are several years of this. And then it ended and I was a civilian again.”

“Do you know why?”

“I think… I think I was injured. I lost the strength in my arm after an explosion. I do not remember much…”

“You actually have that injury, don’t you?”

“Yes. But I was injured in the first column as well, in the fighting in Horonga…”

“So you had the same injury in both memory tracks?”

“I… yes. No. The wound in Horonga… I do not remember how bad it was. It could be the same. It could be.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

“Okay. So where did you go after the army? I mean in the second column?”

“I found work in Zimbabwe City.”

“And where were you in the first column?”

“Zimbabwe City again. The seat in parliament I wanted to run for was there. The Harande district. A slum. The Free Liberal Party had held the seat for decades — they handed out food and clothing in return for votes.”

“That’s interesting. On both sides you’re back in Zimbabwe again. Is that significant?”

“I do not know. Perhaps.” He looked at it: the year 148 RY, already full of notations. “UserKwame: add note to 148. Investigate proximity of memories in Zimbabwe City.” A note was added to the list.

“Okay, so on one side you’re a member of parliament, and on the other you’re working… where, exactly?”

“An electronics repair shop.”

“Not exactly close to the levers of power.”

“No. It was a humble existence.”

“Would you say the person in the second column was the kind of person that you in the first column would have been trying to help?”

“I… yes. In some ways. But he was a pervert. A disgusting creature.”

“Let’s ignore that side of things for now. Is he someone you would have wanted to help?”

“He could have been… an example. Of how the poor could improve themselves if only they had the education. He had all the talent to be a great engineer… but I suppose… I suppose his position in life made it more likely for him to… fail.”

“Interesting. I think these two people sound related in some way. I don’t mean family. But something is bringing them together.” He didn’t reply to that. He still didn’t want it to be true. “So. 149 onwards. You’re an MP in the first column and a repairman in the second. What’s going on here?”

He indicated the first column. “I was a member of the opposition party. I was good at embarrassing the government. It was easy: they were corrupt and stupid. They would say they stood for reform but their actions were always different. I introduced an education reform bill. They said it was too expensive. But we were spending millions on remedial courses for new army recruits — and the cost of teaching them properly as children was less than half of that. So the bill was passed. My party won the next election, and I hoped I would be appointed to the cabinet…”

“Whoa. Wait a minute. You’re speeding ahead. The next election is… let me just read this… 155?”

“Yes.”

“All the political stuff is in the first column. But what’s happening in the second column?”

He swallowed. This was what he had been dreading.

“I was searching.”

“For what?”

“Mudiwa.”

“Ah. Did you find her? I mean, him?”

“I found him.”

“What happened?”

“It was squalid. He was a prostitute. And a drug addict.”

“He wasn’t like that before?”

“No. But we lost touch after I left Matongu. It was too dangerous. He fell a long way and blamed me for it. He wanted me to pay him for sex. I was angry. He provoked me. I… I took him. And then I ran away. But I could not help it. I had to go back. The second time, I tried to help him, but he did not want my help. And he stank of khat. I hated him, I wanted to hurt him, I became a… customer.” He was almost grinding his teeth as he said it. “And when I went back again, I was arrested.”