Today we have for you a new work from another of our talented CWMA students, Vera Brenner. We have MA students from a multitude of countries, which helps our creative community to expand to every corner of the world. We hope you enjoy this taste of our multicultural experience!
by Vera Brenner
The white lady from England returned three times a year to live her private adventure
with him for two weeks.
When they met seven years earlier, he thought she was his way out. She would
marry him and take him home with her. After a year he started to ask her.
‘Next time, maybe,’ she said.
He wandered along the beach. The sand under his bare feet was cold and mixed
with pieces of glass and plastic garbage. It smelled of faeces, dead fish and rotten
seaweed. Here, he and the other young man were waiting for the one white lady that
would free them from poverty. Free them from Mozambique. Free them from Africa.
Europe – it seemed like paradise to every single one of them.
Most lived on the beach, in shelters made from cardboard, in old boats, some
lived in caves. She’d bought a small apartment where the two of them lived when she
was in town. When she wasn’t, he rented the apartment and himself to other tourists on an hourly basis. Some stayed longer. But most ladies now preferred the fresher versions of himself: the young black seducers with their unused, muscular bodies in tank tops. His family back in the village would starve if he didn’t make it to Europe soon.
They had medicine there, for free he heard. A week earlier he’d discovered the first
lesion on his head. It was still covered by his hair, but when the signs became more
apparent, he wouldn’t get any white lady to sleep with him for money anymore.
He stared at the sea, which to the white ladies seemed to be some picturesque
sight. A red wooden plank with some washed out blue lettering appeared for an instant on the top of a wave, before it crashed down and shattered on the rocks.
He had to try again. He bought her favourite flower, a water lily and changed
into his nicest dark blue collared shirt that made him look more European. He entered the apartment and put on the dominant grin that she loved so much. She was sitting on the balcony in a saclike, white linen dress, reading one of those love stories she always carried around.
‘Marry me,’ he said.
‘Yes.’ She looked up and smiled. ‘Let’s have a romantic ceremony on the beach.
Next year in summer.’