Matha wrapped her arms around Cookie from behind, hugging her away from Ba Nkoloso before she could strike him. But Cookie kept shouting from the prison of Matha’s embrace: ‘And you stole my sister. Now the whole world is laughing at us! Space Programme!’ She spat. ‘They called my mother a whore and now they are calling my sister a fool! Why were you lying to people, telling them she is going to Mars with a cat—’
‘Twelve cats,’ Matha corrected matter-of-factly.
‘That one?!’ Ba Nkoloso pointed at Matha, his black eyes glinting as he guffawed at the ceiling. ‘Matha Mwamba is launching nowhere. She is carrying two! She is above take-off weight!’
There was a terrible silence. The party averted its eyes. A few guests began to mumble about how late it was getting.
‘Your sister and her boyfriend? They have dishonoured our Space Programme,’ Ba Nkoloso went on. ‘That is why it has collapsed. We could not face our sponsors with a pregnant girl! The rumours have squashed us. And so now it is time for African liberation!’
But Cookie was no longer listening. Her mouth hanging open, she slowly turned within the ambit of her sister’s arms until she was facing her. She looked into Matha’s eyes.
‘A baby?’ Cookie asked.
Matha nodded, then glanced over Cookie’s shoulder. Cookie craned her head to follow her gaze. Ba Nkoloso had moved on. He was rebuking a Just Rocket for neglecting the Space Programme, while also trying to recruit him for the new African Liberation Centre. Cookie looked past them at Godfrey, who was still in his chair, asleep, dream-sealed from the room. She turned back to Matha. The sisters kept their arms around each other.
‘Godfrey doesn’t know yet,’ Matha said quietly.
‘A baby!’ Cookie exclaimed.
‘Ya, it’s a bit worrisome.’
‘A baby,’ Cookie whispered. Then she turned her head to one side and vomited.
* * *
Later that night, when the party was over, Matha and Godfrey had a fight. The beds were back on their feet, a catastrophe of dirty plates and glasses on the floor between them. Across the way, Nkuka was passed out on her bed, limbs splayed, wig askew. Matha watched her sister snore for a while then turned towards Godfrey, who was on his back beside her. Having napped through most of the party, he was now wide awake, composing a new song in loops, trying to get the notes right.
‘Godfrey?’ She leaned up on her elbow.
Godfrey smiled at her but did not cease his ellipsing hum.
‘I think if we ask, Ba Nkoloso will forgive us and give us jobs at the Liberation Centre.’
Godfrey frowned at her. She stared at the scar on his neck, the shape of a bullet.
‘Zambia has its independence now,’ she said. ‘It is only right to help our neighbours in the struggle for freedom. And we need a proper job now if…’ She put her hand on her belly.
Godfrey’s hum stopped. ‘I have a proper job.’
‘What,’ Matha snorted, ‘the Just Rockets?’
He looked at her, hurt crumpling his brow. ‘Think of Hugh Masekela,’ he said earnestly. ‘He was just another trumpeter until he went to America. Now he has his own sound…’
‘You think you are going to go to America?’ Matha laughed.
‘Isn’t that what Ba Nkoloso used to say? That only the Americans understand what it means to dream and that is why they would get to the moon first. And he was right!’
‘Oh gosh.’ She eyed him. ‘You didn’t believe in those space dreams, did you?’
‘Maybe I believed, maybe I did not,’ he shrugged. ‘But the idea of it was a work of art! It was inspiring for Zambians to dream about going to the moon. That is how real change happens.’
‘That is how craziness happens! The goal was to make real change, political change. Revolution! Not art! Missile rockets, not Just Rocketing around like some African Jimi Hendrix—’
‘You are one to talk about craziness! With your mother? And your Bashikulu N’gulube?’
Furious, Matha jumped out of the bed, stepping right onto a greasy plate. With nowhere else to go, she stomped off to the communal kitchen where she paced for a while, fuming, waiting for Godfrey to come after her. But he didn’t. Eventually, Matha fell asleep seated at the table, her cheek resting on her crossed arms like a lazy student.
* * *
She woke up to her sister sitting across from her. Cookie looked freshly bathed. She was wearing a polyester suit and a full face of make-up. She took Matha’s hand and calmly explained that she