Character Interview with Nomvula
Tell me a little about yourself.
Well, my name is Nomvula, and I’m ten years old. I live in the Addisen township, a long bus ride from Port Elizabeth, South Africa. I’ve never been to the city, but I hear it’s amazing—tall buildings and robots everywhere. I really like it here, too though. Everyone is friendly, except some of the kids who like to tease me about my golden eyes and my sick mother. It’s okay, you don’t have to look me in the eyes if you don’t want to. No one does.
Err, they’re quite…striking. So my sources tell me that you can fly?
People can’t fly, silly. I mean, I used to pretend that I could, but that was way back when I was a little kid. I know the difference between real and pretend now that I’m almost a woman. Who told you about that, anyway?
We have a mutual friend, a Mr. Tau?
Oh, him? He says a lot of things that aren’t true. My ma says he’s dangerous. We shouldn’t talk about him.
Well, what should we talk about then?
Mmmm. How about food? My Mama Zafu, that’s my auntie, is the most amazing cook! She takes care of me mostly, since my ma is so sick. Her beef stew just melts in your mouth. Have you ever tried it? It’s beef shins and onions and carrots and tomatoes, plus basil, rosemary, and thyme from her herb garden. Goes great with a tangy slice of beer bread fresh out of the oven. Mr. Tau makes wonderful beer bread, the best I’ve ever had.
I thought you said we shouldn’t talk about Mr. Tau.
Well, we shouldn’t, but if we don’t tell my ma that we talked about him, then I think it’s okay. I won’t tell her. Will you?
Of course not.
Good. Because Mr. Tau is amazing. He’s an artist, you know. He carves figures out of wood and sells them in the city to tourists. He also tells great stories about the olden days when all there was of the world was a giant scab of lava, then there were walking, talking tree mothers brought to life by animal spirits, and then warring demigods, and then–
Did any of those demigods fly?
Well, sure, some of them. The ones descended from eagles could soar, high up in the air, with wings that sprouted from their backs. They flew so high, they felt like they could touch the sun! They did tricks in the sky, clouds cool against their skin. And from up there, they could see everything–the land, the ocean, and sometimes they flew so, so far to the next township over, where the kids wouldn’t tease them and make fun of them because their strange eyes or their sick, sick mother. Hey, why are you looking at me like that?
Nomvula, I hope you don’t mind if I ask this again, but can you fly?
People don’t fly.
Yes, people don’t, but do you?
(Silence)
Sorry, can’t answer any more of your questions. I’ve got to fly. I mean go. I’ve got to go. Walking. Ma’s probably starving in her shack, wondering why I haven’t brought her bowl of pap to her yet. Oh, you know, here’s a great recipe for beer bread, if you’re interested. It’s really good. You’ll love it, I promise. Okay, thanks, bye!
