EACH time the lady and her husband drove past one particular junction in Lusaka, which had traffic lights, she never failed to notice this bull of a man who just either sat under a tree nearby or stood by watching vehicles drive past.
His clothes were dirty though not torn while his hair had turned into long unkempt dreadlocks.  He was filthy by all standards yet she could not help noticing and even commenting to her husband that his madness was a sad and bad waste of beauty.
“This mad man must have been very handsome, you know,” she remarked. The husband also took notice and agreed that he was tall, hefty anddefinitely good looking.
“He must have been an asset to his wife,” he said jokingly.
One evening, as they drove past the junction, the lights turned red and they stopped.  The mad man walked slowly but confidently towards the passenger window where the lady sat.  He had a bright smile on his face.
Not sure what he might do once he got nearer her, she started to wind the window up but not before he had noticed and had politely told her not to fear him.
“Osayopa mummy munisiileko cabe ya Fanta. Banzanu banipasako buns iyi (Do not be scared mum.  Just leave me some money for Fanta.  Your friend has given me some for this bun),” he extolled.
“Mupase (give him),” commanded the husband as she reached into her handbag to search for something to give.  She picked out a K5 and handed it over.
“Aah, mwagwila nchito mummy mulungu akudalitseni (Thank you mum and may God bless you,” he said as he took the note and pocketed it.
They drove off and chatted briefly about how polite and friendly the man actually was, both lamenting why madness had struck at such an apparent useful person.  In subsequent days whenever they passed by, the lady seemed to take more notice of him.
Whenever he was afar or not paying attention to the vehicles, she would say “There is our man,” or “Mr Handsome is satisfied today, he’s not begging,” or any other comment.  On one occasion, for three consecutive days as they returned home, the lights turned red on the lady and her husband, forcing them to stop.  And for some reason, he ignored all other vehicles and came to where the lady sat asking for help.
“Give me anything, mummy, even chicken and chips I also eat,” he said in Nyanja as he saw a packet of chicken and chips from Hungry Lion. She obliged and let go of the leftovers of what had been her lunch at work.
“Why don’t you beg from others?” asked the husband smiling at the mad man.
“Bena na Asatana sapatsa (Some are devils; they don’t give),” he said calmly.
As they drove away, the two agreed that whatever his levels of insanity, this man seemed to remember them well and they didn’t mind assisting when they could.  Over time, the husband started calling the mad man his wife’s boyfriend and she too didn’t seem to mind calling him her boyfriend.  There were times indeed when he would look at them and pay no attention at all.
“I suppose his demons are active your boyfriend is not coming to talk to you,”” said the husband.
“Aini (indeed),” replied the lady in agreement.  “He can’t come and greet his girlfriend!”
Over time, they moved into their own incomplete house in a different location and so stopped seeing the mad man.  They never even talked about him as in fact the only time they ever talked about him in the past was when they found him by the traffic lights.  Then one day, the husband travelled to Kabwe to attend the burial of one of his relatives, so she drove herself to work.
By coincidence, a friend asked to be dropped at a spot near the junction where the mad man camped.  After leaving her friend, she inevitably found herself stopping by the traffic lights, behind two cars.  She caught herself actually itching, anxious to not just see the mad man but have him talk to her.  She frantically searched for a bigger kwacha denomination to give him if he did come to her car.
When he saw her, he came to the passenger side and attempted to open the door.
“Lelo muli nokha kasi tipita tonse mummy nkaone uku mukhala (You are alone today so we are going together I see where you stay),” he said calmly though appearing excited.
“No, no, no you can’t come with me!” she said panicking but sure she was feeling confused about his request.
Deep inside her heart, she and her husband had developed a liking for this mentally disturbed person, both wanted to be nice and friendly, even helpful all the time but his request to come along…! Gee!
“Musaniope mummy sindine nyama ya kuthengo (Don’t be scared of me mum am not an animal from the forest,” he said as he confidently unlocked the passenger door from inside through the window she had opened for this friendly discussion.
The lights had turned green and interested passers-by and drivers of vehicles that were behind her noticed what the mad man was doing.
Some honked.  Others laughed.  The call boys whistled and shouted various things including “Nkhunzi lelo iyenda (The bull is going today)!” “Yangena mu motoka ya mzimai nkhunzi ona, ona, ona (The bull has entered a lady’s car, look, look, look)!”
It was a moment of confusion for the lady, passers-by and other drivers.  Nobody could tell what he would do and why he had entered the vehicle.  When the hooting became incessant, she engaged gear and drove away, with the mad man sitting quietly, comfortably and very contented in the car.
Some call boys ran along her car, anxious not to miss the drama while a coloured man drove past her and asked “Need help ma’am?  I can kung fu that bastard for you in no time at all!”
She didn’t want him Kung-fued or hurt in any way.  He was mad but he was a friend; a family friend that she and her husband had both come to like.  It was just unfortunate he had jumped into her car and she didn’t know how to get him out but definitely no one should beat him. She would not allow it.
“Nooo!” she screamed back at the coloured driver.  “I am safe, sir.”
“Are you sure ma’am?” he persisted, driving parallel.
“Very sure, sir!  He is our relative,” she lied.  “He’s harmless.”
The coloured man sped off and as she increased speed, the call boys stopped chasing and suddenly, it was all quiet again.  She was alone with this mad man, not sure at what point to drop him and what would happen.  Her heart was throbbing in confusion.  What if he refused? She wasn’t strong enough to physically throw him out but neither did she want anyone harming him.
“Baja a khaladi amati apande ine (That coloured man said he wanted to beat me)?” the man suddenly spoke, cutting through her maze of confused thoughts.  “Sanidziba ine ngati munthu aniyambila dala ndine woipa ngako (He doesn’t know me.  I am a very bad person when I am provoked).”
“Don’t worry, nobody will touch you,” she assured, turning away from the stench of unbathed sweat on his body, accumulated over weeks if not months.  What numbers of lice would he leave in the car…?  What other problems was she headed into today, really?
“Ine bopusa ningobaphwisila viphwisi pa mphuno akugwa okha uko gaaadaaa (I just fart farts into the nostrils of stupid people and they go falling on their backs on their own without me touching them!” he said releasing a little laugh.  “Ndine wamukali ngako ngati waniyamba. (I am a very bad tempered person when provoked!”
She once again assured him that nobody would attack him but that she could not take him with her to her home.
“Pulizi mummy nanilole nkasambeko cabe (please allow me to just have a bath),” he pleaded.
“Mungabwele uzanitula nikasamba zilibe kanthu (You can drop me back here after I bath, there is no problem.”
The lady was getting more and more confused.  The man was making an innocent appeal for nothing but a bath.  He was filthy but nice and friendly.  He was even assuring her that she would drop him right back at his camp afterwards!
The trouble was that she was completely alone at home, both her children already living on their own and herself living by themselves with her husband, who at this time was in Kabwe.  Could he become violent?  Could he refuse to be brought back?
A voice in her told her ALL would be well, that if he turned nasty, there were always ways of calling the Police or other help.  Another voice told her this was Jesus and if she didn’t help, he would return at judgement day and tell her that she refused to let him bath, nothing but bath!  She accelerated and made for home, prepared for anything, a bit of her heart thumping at the thought of seeing this man bathed and clean, even if he was mad.
Another thought came through her mind.  Would any barber accept to cut his hair?
“First we ask a barber if he can cut your hair, sir?” she asked.
“Osaniitana kuti sir yai.  Ine dzina langa mummy ndine Nkhunzi (Don’t call me sir.  My name is Nkhunzi (The Bull)!”
And he said his hair was the headquarters of lice, so why not cut it indeed. So she stopped by a kanthemba barber and sweet talked the young man into shaving off all the hair on the mad man’s head.
“Sazatibaula Rasta uyu mummy (Won’t he burn us, this one, mum?” asked the barber.
“He’s not mad,”” she assured.  “He’s just a destitute.  We are related so just relax.
And then as suddenly as the adventure began, the lady and the bull were home, ALONE.
“Madzi woyamba nisambe nekha laculukitsa dothi koma sopo laciwili abwele anisambeko kumsana ai (The first water I will bath myself because I am too dirty but the second, come and scrub my back, eh)?”
(To be continued)