FISHING IN A WATERPOT

The Promotion

The days rolled by as I returned to my normal work routine. As for Grace, I had already changed my phone line and remained in Kuwadzana, where she did not know my whereabouts. Nomatter and I spoke frequently, discussing the plans her family had for us and making our own plans about how we would overcome whatever obstacles lay ahead.

One day, as I was walking through town, a car suddenly stopped beside me and hooted. Inside was Grace, dressed beautifully. I looked at her and felt my heart drift away. It wasn't that I loved her enough to marry her, but the lust I felt for her made me overlook the troubles that were falling upon me, like a man who already owns a pot but still covets another.

"Get in, you bastard," she shouted playfully, flashing her beautiful white teeth.

Even though I was attracted to her, I felt compelled to tell her the truth about our situation. I wanted to tell her that with her beauty, she could find a man much better than me—a man of her own social and financial class, not me, a mere constable, like a hare inTrwashhubuuhbjbjjjjTmorybook whose journey depends on someone turning the pages. But the moment I entered the car, all those thoughts vanished.

For a moment, I was tempted by the wealth she described. But I replied that the joy of love does not come from worldly riches but from the treasure that comes from the heart—the kind of love Apostle Paul spoke about.

Grace asked why I had been avoiding her and becoming difficult to reach. I told her that work had tied me down like an ox yoked to a plough. She then suggested that since it was my day off, we should go out to Mutangadura for drinks and a braai. The moment she pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniel's, all my previous plans collapsed.

We ordered Savannas, Smirnoffs, and Castle Lite beers, and the car sped down Samora Machel Avenue. Soon, Samora Machel became Mutare Road as the Mercedes pulled toward Mutangadura.

I could see that Grace was in seventh heaven. She laughed in a way that showed she felt loved whenever I was with her. We even made duck faces while she took selfies. At one point, the car almost left the road because she was busy taking selfies while driving. Meanwhile, I had started drinking like a thirsty beast that had just emerged from the desert.

When we arrived at Mutangadura, the place was packed with people. Loudspeakers blasted music throughout the venue. We joined others at the braai stands. By then, the alcohol had made me sleepy, so I leaned back in the car and drifted off.

I woke up to find a plate of grilled meat, tomatoes, and cucumbers placed in front of me. Small pieces of chili decorated the edges of the plate. I began eating greedily because alcohol always increased my appetite for meat.

That was when Grace returned accompanied by a senior officer from our workplace. This man carried enormous authority—he was the Deputy Commissioner General of Police responsible for Administration. This happened to be his regular leisure spot. I knew him from the police outpost.

Grace introduced me to him.

"This is my boyfriend, the one I've been telling you about, uncle. He's the one Dad told you about—the one you should help."

I immediately stood at attention, even though I was not in uniform, and saluted.

"Good evening, Sir."

"Relax, my son. You're family now. If you have Grace, forget all the formalities of work."

He stretched out his hand, and we shook hands like men. I was stunned. Here I was, shaking hands with the second most powerful man in the entire Zimbabwe Police hierarchy.

"My son, before I forget, where would you like to work? I'll help you get a better posting and rank. Give me your force number, rank, and initials so I can write them in my diary."

"083566V, Constable Pamire Alpha, Sir," I answered nervously.

Grace laughed at how awkward I was.

"Don't worry about all the 'Sir, Sir,' my boy. We're here to enjoy ourselves."

We chatted for a long time, and by then, I was thoroughly intoxicated. The old man himself was also enjoying the drinks, accompanied by a young woman who was clearly not his wife. Grace whispered to me that the man was a notorious womanizer. The woman with him was about Grace's age. That, apparently, was how old men enjoyed their wealth.

Grace and I partied until dawn. As we drove back, we argued along the way. When we reached the police roadblock near Mabvuku Turn-Off, the officers signaled us to pull over.

I had not realized that Grace was heavily intoxicated. The moment she stepped out to speak to them, her drunkenness became obvious. The police officers knew they had caught someone.

"Driving under the influence of alcohol. Take them in and start preparing the docket when they sober up."

I considered revealing my police identity card, but one officer remarked,

It sounded like someone had already suspected that I was a police officer. When I saw another officer I had trained with pretending to inspect another vehicle while avoiding eye contact, I knew he had tipped them off.

I pretended to wander over to the sergeant and quietly said,

"I'm one of us."

He replied coldly,

"I already know. That doesn't stop us from arresiting you. No one is above the law. You should know that as a police officer."

"Madam here is the daughter of Gumedhe. Please let me call Honourable Gumedhe and inform him we've been arrested. Could you please give me your rank, name, and force number? Well, I can already see you're a Sergeant."

The moment I said that, I saw fear flash across his face.

"Have a safe journey, Boss," he said immediately. "But next time, don't let ma'am drive. You drive."

I pressed the accelerator hard, and the car responded eagerly.

I dropped Grace at her home, still heavily intoxicated. I found her parents having their evening meal. They were so happy to see me that they embraced me. Her mother also seemed relieved to see their daughter arrive safely with me.

"I received a call from Goodson saying you were partying at Mutangadura. At first, I was angry because I thought Grace was there alone. But when he said she was with you, I knew she was in safe hands."

When they mentioned "Goodson," they made it sound like they were referring to their son Peter, when in reality they were talking about the Deputy Commissioner General of Police. What a family!

Before I left, they even lent me a vehicle to drive home.

When I finally got home, I realized that I had spent the entire day without speaking to Nomatter. I called her, and she told me that the following week she would be coming to stay in Harare with a relative.

That news made me happier than I could express.

I pinched myself and felt pain, proving that I was not dreaming.

What I did not know was that I was walking straight into a double trap.

On Monday morning, I was shocked when I was summoned to the Officer-in-Charge's office. I polished my boots, checked my beard in the mirror to make sure I looked presentable, and knocked.

"Come in."

I entered and closed the door behind me.

The officer stood up and extended his hand.

"Sit down, my son. Congratulations!"

I was completely confused and had no idea what was happening.

"You have been promoted. You are now Sergeant Pamire."

He smiled broadly, revealing teeth stained dark from years of chain-smoking.

"But that's not the only reason I called you. We've just received a radio message from Police General Headquarters stating that you have been transferred from the Uniformed Branch to the Criminal Investigation Department, Fraud Section. I wish you all the best in your future endeavors. You are to report immediately."

"My boy, if this is luck, then yours is extraordinary. Few rookies receive such a transfer."

I left the office carrying the transfer radio message in my hand.

I was now serving at Harare Central CID and had been promoted as well. Grace Gumedhe had truly opened doors for me.

I was also excited because Nomatter would soon arrive, and I intended to do exactly what I had always wanted. If I was going to marry anyone, it would be Nomatter.

What I did not know was that I had already sunk myself deep into the mud.