The art of donating clothes

There’s something mystical about clothes. For most people, there is that one apparel you inexplicably fall in love with and feel like putting it on all time, every time.

In that case, you and the apparel become one and the same!

There was one man ‘with a good job’half a decade ago in Blantyre’s Nkolokosa Township who was always in a red cap for one cellphone network provider and a green t-shirt for a competing network!

In a couple of months, the cap and t-shirt were so ‘exhausted’ from the ‘slavery’ they were subjected to.

Every weekend, if you took a stroll around the location, the man was in the same colours!

Komatu ndinawagulira malaya ndi zipewa zina kuti adzisinthira [you can’t believe I bought him some caps and T-shirts to change into],’ one day the wife ‘mourned’ as her friends qpointed out her hubby’s fading outlook.

When it hits that level, no matter how much the clothes lose their flush, the owner will still take upon them with glee and glamour.

For men, it is even worse and some wives have no choice but take it upon their spousal pedestals to put an end to the matrimony of their husbands and the clothes.

So, you wake up one morning and ask around the home for ‘that pair of jeans’ but surprisingly your inquiry will land on deaf ears.Your search in all likely places yields nothing but more mystery on the disappearance.

Now you know how most of your once beloved shoes, ties, shirts or trousers escape from your bondage!

But such disposal should be an art and obviously, not all women have mastered it!

I am driven to this conclusion after a recent ‘scene’ at my friend’s residence.

We arrived there in a group of four and the first to meet was the host’s wife. She was calmly enjoying her moments, sat on an opulently manicured lawn.

Bambo lero akhulupirika kusamala maluwatu lero [hubby is for once busy nurturing flowers],’ said one of us.

But the wife stoutly informed us of her better half’s sudden trip early that morningto his home village to attend to a relation’s sickness.

We swapped gazes at her blatant ‘lie’.  Just moments ago, as we got to the house, we had seen the man go round the house, pushing a wheelbarrow full of green grass and branches from the lawn and shrubs he was clipping.

We had then agreed not to disturb him and instead let him go dump the load so we see him on his return.

Musamanamizire matenda inu. Lumbani tamuona akukataya zinyalala kuseliku. [That’s a bad joke. We just saw your hubby on his way to dump some trash]’ I retorted.

It was not long when a man in ‘familiar clothes’ appeared pushing an empty wheelbarrow.

Days later, the friend told us the wife had donated ‘all tired clothes’ to people needed them most, but not without a price!

Apart from this old man who periodically pops for casual work; tending to flowers and some small household jobs, other clothes had already won the friend a bad name as their new owner, a plumber, had a few days prior to our visit been spotted a few houses away so sozzled and misbehaving.

The people who recognized the clothes, including a church elder, had already confronted the friend and reprimanded him for the act! n

 

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