Although Morningside is over eighteen kilometres from Rhodesville Estate, love-smitten Moyo hits the highway Sunday morning. No better way to spend the day than resolve this enticing affair with Sheline, the lady who's making it tough to concentrate at work.

But it shouldn't be hard to win Sheline over. He has a car with which to take her around town, one of those activities Morningside ladies enjoy. Refusing to wave him goodbye the last time, and avoiding eye contact, she must be taking him for a struggling taxi-driver. By now her mom would have corrected that impression.

With Sheline he'll make his proposal flawless, wasting no time to express how he feels and avoiding perambulating. But then he knows little about her. Maybe he should sneak around until he gathers enough details before launching a proposal she can't decline.

While joggling which of the two approaches will work, Moyo muses through old attempts, during which Richard's recommendations come to mind.

On a day his girlfriend stood him up for three hours for which she offered no apology, upon which she left him for another person, Moyo then approached his friend for ideas on how to win a decent lady. He was almost in tears, throwing hands in the air. "A flat in my name and a car to drive around, yet the ladies aren't coming. What's wrong with me?"

"You've got to take things easy, dude." Richard's grabbed Moyo's shoulders. "Ladies won't flow with you when you interact with them as if you're having a business talk. Relax your mind. Enjoy her company and stop being too hard. They like confident men who are in control."

"But I smile most times."

"I'm not talking about those mannequin smiles of yours. Develop a true sense of humour and catch your fun when hanging out with them. Improve your listening skills and read a lot. That way, you'll have interesting topics to discuss, not those fuel-scarcity problems and bad economy gist you bore them with."

"Oh."

"Yes. Step up the game, boy. You have a car to cruise and some change in your pocket. Just adjust your lifestyle a bit and work on your appearance. Things will smoothen out."

"Okay, coachie."

Such pep-talks led to increased social engagements: visiting cinemas, eating out and attending public functions.

Moyo also picked up the habits of reading foreign magazines and watching epic movies, following which he met Victoria, a lady he dated but who was head and shoulder above him. He would later deem her arrogant and money-guzzling when the larger share of his wages got spent on Brazilian-wigs, skin-lightening creams and costly cosmetics.

Besides, she had no career focus or any plan in life. After living with her for four months, he needed no counselling to show her the door. He ditched two other ladies afterwards.

What Moyo desires in a lady is ambition and appeal, a forward-looking babe with whom he can achieve his dream of becoming a businessman. One who'll blend well with his family members. Particularly, her monthly demands shouldn't leave a big hole in the pocket.

Sheline should be that person. The chance meeting with her must be a blessing from above because it happened on a day he reserved for wife-hunting. "God smiles on me at last," he says, peering into the rear-view mirror.

Reassessing the issue, with such a beautiful young lady in that Morningside neighbourhood, guys will swarm around her, asking for a date. Where can a golden fish hide in the river? Well, whether she's dating or not, he'll sort that out soon.

Moyo parks the car on the service lane of Western Street, some considerable metres away from Sheline's house. He alights from it and scans the terrain, watching for passersby while he recalls details of his last visit here.

The lad lingers for an hour and more, savouring the cool breeze the vegetation offers, hoping to find someone to tell him more about this lady who's riding roughshod on his heart's landscape.

In the entire time, only two people walk past.

Why didn't I ask for her phone number? Did I choose the wrong day to come here?

When no one shows up after two hours, he leaves, only to show up again during the week after work, parking the car at a different spot, by the bush path, at a vantage point where he can glimpse activities in front of Sheline's gate. Unlike last Sunday, the street is busier today. Cars ply the road in their numbers, residents walk around and visitors trudge the terrain.

Focussing on Sheline's house, Moyo sights a man and a lady knocking on the gate. On a closer look, they cut the images of choristers or Jehovah's Witnesses. His heartbeat picks up pace, thinking Sheline will soon emerge. But after three knocks and no response, the two visitors move to the next house.

Moyo then catches sight of four guys in the distance, as they breeze into view, talking and laughing while listening to music from a mobile Bluetooth speaker. Likely to be high school leavers or freshers at a college, those aren't serious contenders. Some pant-sagging folks won't give him undue headache over a lady he's yet to speak to.

Conceding that winning Sheline over won't be easy, Moyo hits on an idea: what if he approaches these guys? They might give him insights into Sheline's ways. Sure.

Moyo waits for the guys to draw close before crossing the road to meet them. Upon exchange of greetings, he asks about Sheline. They frown up, claiming no knowledge of anyone by that name. They won't even wait for a second longer before sidestepping him, walking away.

Next, Moyo waves at a teenager riding a bicycle on the walkway. "Hey!"

"Hello, sir." The lad pauses and hops off the bicycle.

"Do you know the young lady living there?" Moyo points at the first house on the street.

"Yes, Sheline."

"Can you please call her? I have a message for her."

"Aah!" The youngster turns his face sideways. "That one doesn't come out much. I'm sorry I can't help, sir."

He cycles on.

If residents aren't cooperating how can Moyo meet Sheline? College guys are perhaps jealous he's here to meet a lady they have on their radar. The younger ones are timid. Maybe mature women can help. Those should know a responsible man when they see one.

As if listening to Moyo's thoughts, a plump middle-aged woman emerges from the bush, coming from the next street.

"Excuse me, ma'am." Moyo hastens towards her.

"Yes, can I help you?" She pauses.

"Err...sorry to bother you. I'm Moyo and I work here in Bulawayo. I just want to know about a certain lady that lives over there." He points a finger. "I've been trying to —"

"Trying to do what?" Her face contorts as both hands lands on her hips. "Haha! Here you are – those deceiving our girls, uh?" She raises her voice, flailing her hands. "Oh, you're one of the fake men who come here with borrowed cars to mess up little girls." She claps repeatedly and then lunges forward. "Leave our daughters alone, shameless, faceless men."

Ill at ease at the brash remarks, Moyo recoils. If men have been stalking young ladies in this neighbourhood, he's definitely not one of them. Or have they noticed his presence on the street just these few days?

He finds his voice: "No, you're getting things wrong, ma. I'm not one of—"

"You're still talking, uh?" She charges at him with widening eyes. "If you're not here to deceive our girls, why are you outside? Why don't you go and knock on her mother's door?" She flares her nose, flapping eyes at him from the head downwards. "Look, I've marked your face. Maybe I should even report you to Sheline's mother. We don't need useless people like you here."

The tetchy woman walks away, swearing and cursing, hitting her hips hard.

Her exit brings relief – a relief which brings a window of opportunity for Moyo to reassess himself. His bleached sneakers and faded blue jeans now look inappropriate for this occasion. But that's because he's just back from work. Even if his car isn't one of the latest brands, which most mothers tend to respect, his dressing isn't so bad as to deserve those terrible words. Why should anyone call me useless?

Fresh doubts creep into Moyo's mind about his capability to win Sheline over, or if she might even consider him good enough. But he waves the doubts aside. Mere tirades won't cow him. Instead, his resolve to see Sheline doubles. The woman is only expressing the importance mothers in this area attach to their daughters' relationships.

While she strolls on, peeping behind occasionally, Moyo enters the car, grabs the steering wheel and revs the engine, all the while watching her in the distance, eager to see if she'll make good her threat to knock on Sheline's gate and report his stalking.

No, she walks away.

Moyo exits the street.

The trip back home is reflective. Seeking help from people living around Sheline won't help him. Morningside residents have issues bothering on distrust. But before that nosy woman spoils his chances by portraying him a lout, he must make bold moves so that Sheline won't slip.

Saturday afternoon, making a resolve to meet Sheline by all means, Moyo dresses up as though he has an appointment with the city Mayor. He leaves Rhodesville for Morningside yet again, but this time he summons the courage to knock on the gate. He ought to have made this move from the outset instead of sneaking around since he's not exactly a stranger.

As he heads towards the gate, he finds it open, to his surprise. Are they expecting a guest or some house-clearing activities are going on? He braves the odd, crosses the gate and walks through the lawn up to the doorstep. It's no use going back now.

After knocking twice, Sheline opens the door slightly, peeps through and then closes it, on recognising the visitor. An eerie silence follows, during which Moyo's heart pounds, thinking she won't return. But the lady soon opens the door and steps out.

"Good evening," she greets with a straight face.

He flashes a smile, thinking she'll ask him in. "Good evening, Sheline."

"How may I help you?"

The smoothness of her face; her Afro hairdo; her attire – a fitting banana-yellow, sleeveless gown – all help to numb him.

When he won't talk, she sticks out her neck. "Hellooo, Mister."

Those words are for the winds. Moyo wheezes into a trance or so it seems. He sees in her a girl of about twenty-one, one who completed her Grade 12 a year ago. Is this the young lady on whose account he was called a useless man? The one who made him hang around the street like a teenager? Love is indeed powerful. It makes one act strange. Even so, why should he find it hard to talk? Isn't he the same guy who chats with big men while dispensing fuel at Emerald Station? Why should a young lady be a problem?

Conscious not to give a wrong first impression, he must beef up. "I didn't come here to see your mom. I'm here to see you."

"Really?"

"I'm sure you remember me."

"Yes, I do – the good Samaritan that brought my mother home the other day." Her brows rise as she looks away.

Gladdened by her words, he feels encouraged. "Won't you invite me in?"

"No. Since I'm the one you want to see, we can talk here."

"Okay, fine."

Moyo turns his face away, thinking how best to express his feelings to the confident young lady whose timid looks on their first meet now appear on the horizon.

She sizes him up. "What brought you here, Mister?"

Moyo's head buzzes as he struggles to talk. This moment, which he had visualised would be as easy as proposing and watching with relish while she consents, now seems tough.

Sheline's sweet voice, confident mien, bold-face and overall comportment dampen his anxiety. "Err...I just wonder if you're still studying or about to...I was finding it difficult placing you."

"I completed grade-twelve a few months back and I'm waiting for my result. Journalism is what I have in mind to study at the university."

Heartened by her openness, he probes into her background. She has no qualms telling him that she's Audrey's only daughter. And they've been living here for years.

"Do you have a Shona name? Sheline sounds like 'she lies'."

A lopsided smile appears on her face. "I also answer Simangaliso, the miracle child."

"Simangaliso? Hmm. There must be a reason for that name. Do you mind sharing?"

"Well, my mom had me when she was above forty, so the midwives said it was a miraculous birth. No one believed."

"Oh, I see. You didn't say anything about your dad."

"He's late."

"Oh, sorry."

Her quick response places Moyo in good stead to speak his mind. "Marry me, Sheline. For five years I've been looking for you."

With brows furrowing, Sheline closes the door behind her, folds up her hands as she stares at him curiously. Then she smiles, frowns and then slacken her lips. Finally, she looks away. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me well, Sheline. I'm not mistaken when I said I've been searching for you for years. We may not have known each other for long, but my instincts can't deceive me. Don't be surprised I'm saying so; I mean every word I say here."

He blinks repeatedly, looking solemn.

"You're the one I need at this stage of my life. It's you and no one else. Give me a chance, please."

Sheline's eyes narrow at him. She then chuckles. "What manner of man proposes to a lady based on instincts? You don't even know me."

"What does it take to know a mama's girl? It's clear you lived with Mama all your life, and she must have taught you the virtues of a real woman. See, I'm not asking you to give me a reply right away. But I want to let you know you're the one I want to spend the rest of my life with."

Moyo stops talking and makes a face as if a heavy burden just flew off his shoulders. To confirm his motive, he brings out a small piece from his hip pocket, and on confirming his phone number, passes the paper to her. He turns around to leave.

Sheline stays rooted to one spot, looking at him with widened eyes as he leaves the compound, enter his car and drive away. Evidently, he didn't come to check her mom as initially thought. This lad came here to propose. She spares him a thought.

This isn't the broad-chested and fair-complexion man she sees in her dreams. Definitely not the tall and handsome, caring and romantic, rich and adorable man she wished for all these years. This simple Bulawayo man doesn't even have any of those qualities. Yet he opens his mouth to say he's been searching for her for five years.

To make matters worse, he hurled a paper with abandon, as though she needs to reach him at all cost. Even if she's to consider a suitor, a new one for that matter, will it be this insensitive one? He comes across as being too arrogant or too determined. Or even both.