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He still has her cellphone number so he calls her.
She is not at the Visagies’ house in Strubensvallei but
at an Irish pub in the Florida suburb of Roodepoort where
she has been holding a meeting with some of the mem-
bers of the Society of Widows. She does not seem to
remember who Don is, but the mention of publicity for
her society is good enough for her to promise she will
wait for him at the pub, even though her meeting is over
and the other members of the society are leaving.
Don knows that Irish pub. He has been there before
with Tumi after she met with a visiting casting agent at
a nearby hotel. It is only fifteen minutes away, so he goes
straight there.
Aunt Magda is sitting alone at the bar nursing a glass
of wine. As soon as she sees Don she gives him a broad
toothless grin.
‘Now I remember you,’ she says. ‘You’re the open-
coupe newspaperman who’s going to get his friends to
put me on TV.’
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‘ Ja, but first I’ve got something serious to discuss
with you.’
‘What can be more serious than getting me on TV?’
‘Were you at the Visagie house this morning? You
live there, don’t you?’
She begins to sniffle pitifully. She no longer lives
there, she says. Ma Visagie kicked her out. After all she
has done for that family with her mass action. Ma Visagie
was jealous because the women of the Society of Widows,
which she founded with her sweat and blood, believe in
her and not in Ma Visagie. It is the very society that put
pressure on the magistrate to release Shortie Visagie
through its mass action. The very society that will con-
tinue to put pressure on the magistrate until Stevo
Visagie is also free. And now when Ma Visagie sees that
they are on the verge of success she kicks her out of her
house without Stevo’s knowledge. Stevo would never
have allowed that. Stevo is a good boy, unlike Shortie who
did not even raise a finger to stop Ma Visagie from kick-
ing her out. Shortie is a traitor. The magistrate released
the wrong brother. Shortie is the one who should have
stayed in jail instead of Stevo. It is clear to her now that
Shortie also wanted her out of the Visagie home. And she
doesn’t even have money to go back to Cape Town. She is
grateful to one of the sisters of the society who has given
her temporary accommodation. She may have to return
to Cape Town before Stevo is free, thanks to the ingrati-
tude of Ma Visagie and Shortie. Sniffle. Sniffle.
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Don buys her more wine. The barmaid gives him a
coquettish smile and wants to know what he will drink.
He will have a beer just for appearances. He is uncomfort-
able about drinking during the week, especially so early
in the day. He is one of those types who are not casual
drinkers. When he drinks he drinks to get drunk, and
only on weekends when he is in the familiar surround-
ings of Soweto.
‘Do you know the grey Mercedes Benz tipper truck
that Shortie drives?’ he asks.
‘What’s Stevo’s truck got to do with it?’ she asks, sud-
denly becoming alert.
‘I just want to know where I can find it. There’s
money in it for you.’
‘What do you want with Stevo’s truck?’
‘I want to rent it,’ he says.
She looks at him suspiciously.
‘How do you know about the truck? No one ever uses
it. Where did you see it? What is this all about?’
But before he can respond she asks to be excused
while she goes to ‘powder her nose’, as she puts it. The
barmaid thinks it is her chance to get close and personal
with him. She leans close to his face, her cleavage hover-
ing over his beer.
‘So, where is your modlara girlfriend now that you go
out with a toothless magogo like that?’ she asks with an
impish smile.
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191
‘Who says I’m going out with her? We are talking
business here.’
‘I know . . . I know . . . you want to hire her son’s truck.
I was just joking, man.’
‘You have no business listening to other people’s
conversations.’
‘I am a barman. That’s what we do.’
Well, if she is a barman at all she is a very beautiful
one, without a single trace of ‘man’ in her. And she is for-
ward too. Now Don remembers her from the last time he
visited the bar with Tumi. She is the girl who said to
Tumi, ‘Girlfriend, you must take me to the places you go
to so that I can also find a beautiful man like that.’ Tumi
answered curtly, ‘You don’t find a guy like this—you
create him for yourself.’ Though she was annoyed at
being addressed as ‘girlfriend’ by a mere barmaid, who
was also ogling her man, she was obviously flattered that
the barmaid recognized her fine taste in men. He always
looks so good and well groomed and handsome. That is
why Tumi likes to show him off at her functions and par-
ties. He is her arm-candy.
‘And I am free after ten if you have the time,’ the bar-
maid adds.
Aunt Magda returns to save him from this maneater.
Any other day he would not want to be saved, especially
with Tumi away in London. But today his mind is full of
more important things than wanton pleasures.
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‘I don’t see any powder on your nose,’ he says. OK, it
is a lame joke and Aunt Magda doesn’t get it. But she
seems to be mad about something.
‘You lied to me,’ she says. ‘You went to Strubensvallei
to attack Shortie.’
It turns out instead of powdering her nose, she
phoned the Visagies, trying to ingratiate herself back into
their fold, and told them about this guy who was making
enquiries about Stevo’s truck. Although Ma Visagie
refused to speak to her, Shortie told her about the
confrontation.
‘Do you know what your Shortie did with that truck?’
Don asks her. ‘He nearly killed the magistrate. That truck
is an attempted-murder weapon.’
‘ Ag tog, the magistrate who sent his brother to jail?
Not Shortie. He may be a dofkop but he is no killer. I’m
sure it was an accident.’
‘An accident? He fired shots at her car,’ says Don.
‘Listen. Those people don’t care about you. They kicked
you out of their house.’
‘Stevo cares. Stevo always cares,’ she says with
emphasis, as if she is not only trying to convince Don but
herself as well. ‘I’m not going to sell Stevo out. I’m not
impimpi-ya-mabhulu.’
Don cannot help laughing. She is getting her
isiXhosa vocabulary from one of the freedom songs that
used to be sung during apartheid, and the words mean ‘a
police informer’ or ‘spy of the Boers’.
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193
‘Listen, I’ll pay for any information that you give me.
I’ll pay you well too. Your friends have left you high and
dry. I’ll look after you.’
He gives her a fifty rand note. At first she is reluctant
to take it but greed or hunger gets the better of her.
‘Now, I want you to tell me where I can find that
truck.’
‘It’s always parked outside the yard in Strubensvallei.’
‘It was not there. Do you think they hid it in the
backyard?’
‘It can’t be in the backyard. The gate to the backyard
is too small and there’s no way you can park a truck there.
It’s just a swimming pool and stuff there. Did you look at
the Visagie scrapyard at Strijdom Park?’
‘That’s where it must be. Don’t tell anyone you spoke
to me about this.’
‘I’m not a fool, mister. I love life too much to do that.
It’s you I’m worried about. Sooner or later when you don’t
need me no more you gonna rat on me.’
‘I give you my word. I am going to call you again. We
need to talk some more.’
He is pleased with himself as he drives back to
Weltevreden Park.
A red Volkswagen Golf is parked where the Fiat Uno
used to be. It is the magistrate’s rental car.
As soon as he enters, Kristin Uys—who is sitting in
front of the television with a glass of wine—says, ‘What
took you so long? I was worried sick.’
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‘About me or about you?’ asks Don.
‘You are supposed to be my bodyguard.’
‘Listen, Ms Uys, I want you to go to the Honeydew
police station right away and make a statement about all
the threats and harassment you have been receiving.’
‘You cannot give me orders,’ she says.
‘Don’t you see this has become very dangerous now?
You nearly died this morning. These guys mean business.
They won’t stop until you are dead. We know who did
this, but the police won’t even investigate unless you
yourself lay a charge.’
‘OK, OK, I’ll do it.’
‘I am taking you to the police station now.’
‘Oh no, you’re not taking me there. I am the magis-
trate. I’ll call the detective to my office tomorrow and
make a statement.’
14
THE CURSE OF THE ZARA MAN
Tumi is unpacking very expensive designer dresses,
pants, tops, shoes and underwear from a number of
leather suitcases. After admiring each item, and holding
it against her body to estimate how it fits, she arranges
them neatly in the closet and in the drawers of her
dresser. The closet is overflowing already and she has to
press some dresses and coats together in order to create
more space. She needs a bigger house just for the clothes,
she thinks, or at least a bigger bedroom with a walk-in
closet. If things continue to go the way they did in
London she will be able afford a mansion in Sandton
soon. However, she is not in any hurry to move out of this
love nest that has given her and Don such memorable
moments.
She is exhausted after the long trip, but as soon as
she hears the door open she brightens up. She knows it is
Don because she called him when she was at the airport
and he said he would come immediately as his charge is
at work.
‘Tumza!’ calls Don from the living room.
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‘I’m here, baby,’ she responds.
He dashes in and sweeps her into his arms. They kiss
passionately for a long time.
‘I really missed you, Don,’ she says breathlessly, and
then breaks away excitedly.
‘Guess what I brought you,’ she says.
She rummages through one of the suitcases and
brings out an orange jersey.
‘A jersey?’
‘It’s a Zara Man, baby. You can’t get it in South Africa.
You’re going to look like a real Black Diamond in that.’
Black Diamond. He hasn’t heard those two words for
days. Maybe weeks. It is strange how they make him feel
very uncomfortable now. As if Tumi has uttered curse
words. He does not understand why he should feel this
way because he does want to be a Black Diamond one day.
He badly wants to live up to her expectations. He knows
very well that he represents Tumi’s long-term aspirations
and he doesn’t want to let her down. So, it is quite silly to
get the heebie-jeebies at the mere mention of such beau-
tiful words.
He takes the Zara Man, feigning enthusiasm, and
holds it close to his chest. It is a beautiful jersey. You can
see it is great quality just by looking at it. But orange is
not his colour. He will get used to it though. After all, he
got used to lemon and violet and pink Versace suits when
all his life he wore dark-coloured clothes—black, navy
blue and brown. The lightest colour he ever wore was
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197
grey. He was not a suit-man either. But Tumi changed all
that. She said she didn’t want him to look as if he was
going to a funeral every day. Bright clothes make for a
bright disposition, she said. And a bright disposition
makes for a bright future. And now he loves his Versace
suits—they are part of his image. Eager gazes from the
ladies made him realize that indeed Tumi was on to
something with those pastel-coloured suits.
Tumi knows best.
‘Wear it, baby,’ she says.
But before he can put it on the doorbell rings. He
rushes to open the door. It is the old lady from Number
37 and she has brought the cat.
‘I saw Tumi arrive and then you and I thought you’d
want your cat back,’ she says. ‘Snowy is such a dear. Tumi
tells me you’re looking for a home for her. I just want you
to know that I’m ready and willing.’
‘Not yet, ma’am. Tumi didn’t quite get it right.’
She is disappointed. She says if ever he changes his
mind he should remember that Snowy already knows her
and is quite comfortable at her home. He promises to
remember that and thanks her profusely for looking after
the cat.
When he returns to the bedroom he is cuddling the
cat. He has missed it while he has been away. There is a
cat at the magistrate’s house but, let’s face it, it is not
Snowy. It has got used to him now and likes playing with
him but it is also given to wild habits. It often disappears
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through the cat flap and spends the whole day chasing
birds outside. One night it dragged a live rodent into the
house and played with it in a most sadistic manner, tear-
ing at it with its claws and teeth, bit by bit, until it died.
And the magistrate enjoyed the whole spectacle and
stopped Don from intervening. Snowy is much too civi-
lized for that kind of behaviour.
‘You made me into a liar to the old lady,’ says Tumi.
‘We didn’t agree on anything like that, Tumi,’ says
Don. ‘You made that decision without me.’
‘I want to see you in the Zara Man, baby,’ she says,
regaining her earlier zest.
Don puts the cat down. But it struggles against being
placed on the floor. It is as if it suspects that this guy will
desert it again.
He wears the Zara Man and it looks good on him. He
was hoping it would be too big or too small, but it is the
right size. Tumi never gets it wrong when it comes to the
size of his clothes or his shoes. She stands there, arms
akimbo, admiring her man.
‘Just the right colour for you,’ she says with a broad
smile. ‘You look good in it, my beautiful Black Diamond.’
But the cat spoils her joy. It leaps at Don and claws
its way up his left arm, ripping the Zara Man in the
process. Tumi shrieks in horror.
‘This is the last straw, Don,’ she screeches. ‘The cat
must go. Now!’
‘Surely it was an accident, Tumi.’
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‘This is a Zara Man, Don. A Zara Man! The cat must go.’
‘If my cat goes, I go too, Tumi,’ he says sulkily.
Of course, it is an idle threat. Where would he go? He
would not be so stupid as to leave a beautiful woman like
Tumi for a cat.
‘You go too then. You go with your damn cat.’
He takes Snowy to Number 37. The old lady thanks
her lucky stars, thinking that Tumi was right after all—
they are looking for a good home for the cat. She is dis-
appointed when he disabuses her of that notion but
agrees to look after Snowy for a little while longer.
He does not go back to the apartment to say goodbye
to Tumi but gets into his car and leaves. It’s too early to
fetch the magistrate from the Roodepoort magistrate’s
court, so he’s got to kill time somewhere. He had bud-
geted a few hours for cuddling the cat and making love
to Tumi but now the Zara Man has spoilt everything. That
silly Zara Man was nothing but a curse!
He is very close to the Honeydew police station so he
might as well go find out what is happening with the
magistrate’s case since she finally did call the police to
her office and made a statement. She warned them very
strongly though, that she did not want any publicity
