Layout 1, page 26
not too rash? Especially his very last statement—was it
not perhaps too reckless?
They eat quietly for some time. Actually, he is the one
who cleans off his plate. She is only playing with her food
with a fork.
‘I think this Visagie thing has stressed you out,’ he
says. ‘But there is no going back now, Kristin. We’ve got
to see it through.’
She agrees. They have to see it through. She hopes he
won’t think she doesn’t appreciate his sacrificing some-
thing of himself for her.
‘So, no more talk of resigning?’ he asks.
‘No more talk of resigning,’ she says.
‘No more talk of leaving town?’
She giggles like a little girl. ‘No more talk of leaving
town.’
BLACK DIAMOND
277
He kisses her. She kisses him back. She no longer
cares what anyone else watching thinks. There are mostly
young people at the takeaway counter and a few at the
tables. They are minding their own business and don’t
pay attention to the mature mixed-race couple. They see
a lot of this sort of thing in their ranks, especially here in
the suburbs.
Just then Jim Baxter breaks their embrace with a
telephone call. He wants to see Don first thing in the
morning.
Don gets a doggy bag from the waitron, as they now
prefer to be called, and takes Kristin’s food for his lunch
tomorrow.
The next morning Don goes straight to VIP
Protection Services after dropping Kristin at the court-
house. He is dreading what Baxter has to tell him. He
hopes he is not taking him off this case. Or perhaps he
wants to complain about the expense account. He has
been extravagant lately, paying Aunt Magda and the pros-
titutes and taking Kristin to sample some of the nightlife
of Johannesburg. Baxter should have no cause to com-
plain about that because the Department of Justice will
foot that entire bill—it is part of the expense of looking
after the safety of the magistrate.
He rushes down the corridor anxiously to the
CEO’s office. He knocks timidly and enters. Jim Baxter
welcomes him with a stern look. Four men are with him.
Don knows that two of them are members of the board
of directors, and the big white-haired man with a
ZAKES MDA
278
militaristic pose in a black suit and dark glasses is the
chairman of the board.
‘Mr Mateza!’ says Baxter.
This worries Don even more. He has always been Don
to this man, just as the man has always been Jim to him.
‘You wanted to see me, Mr Baxter,’ says Don, almost
out of breath.
‘We are taking you off the magistrate’s case,’ says
Baxter confirming Don’s suspicions.
‘Why? What have I done?’
The men laugh. Don breathes a sigh of relief.
‘I thought you’d be pleased, Mr Mateza,’ says Baxter.
‘Anyway, you can’t be CEO of VIP Protection Services and
the magistrate’s bodyguard at the same time.’
Don is at a loss for words. The chairman of the board
pops a bottle of champagne and another director hands
out the glasses.
19
HELL HATH NO FURY
Tumi is standing at the door of her townhouse yelling for
the entire neighbourhood to hear. She is in her morning
gown and slippers. Don is standing outside helplessly. As
she yells she throws articles of clothing on the lawn and
Don scrambles to pick them up.
Hell hath no fury!
‘That’s always the case with you bastards,’ she hollers
as she hurls a shoe at him. He catches it with the dexterity
of a rugby player, but before he can recover his balance
another shoe hits him on the head. The head spins a bit
but there is no time to nurse it because missiles are rain-
ing on him from the house.
‘Once you become a Black Diamond black sisters are
no longer good enough for you! Fucking a white woman
is a bloody status symbol. Now that you’re a bloody CEO
you think you are Molotov Mbungane all of a sudden.’
He knows what she is talking about. They used to
laugh about Comrade Molotov’s high jinks when things
were still great between them. The billionaire had a wife
and two children at his home village in the Transkei
ZAKES MDA
280
before he went into exile and then to Robben Island. As
soon as he was released from jail and occupied an impor-
tant cabinet post he forgot all about his customary law
wife and married a white woman—an Afrikaner who was
a secretary at his cabinet office left over from the old
regime. A white wife, according to Tumi, made him more
palatable to white business. No one talks of his village
wife any more. Her children grew up herding cattle and
she worked as a kitchen ‘girl’ for the owners of the village
general dealers’ store.
‘It has nothing to do with that, Tumi,’ says Don. ‘I
really do care about Kristin.’
‘Look at me, Don,’ she says, instinctively posing like
the model she used to be. ‘Look at this body. You telling me
you’re leaving me for some old white hag? And you do this
to me after all the years I have supported you, njandini!’
She has never called him njandini, you dog, before.
They have never had such a public spat either. Like all
lovers they have had their occasional quarrel, but always
in the privacy of their bedroom. This new flaming Tumi
is a revelation to him.
Hell hath no fury!
‘I’m just being honest with you, Tumi. It’s not work-
ing between us.’
At this another missile flies—a wicker cat basket.
‘Yeah, now that you have your promotion it’s not
working between us. It was working all along when you
were eating my money.’
BLACK DIAMOND
281
‘It has nothing to do with the promotion, Tumi.’
Neighbours—mostly domestic servants and house-
wives since most people are at work at this time—gather
to witness the row. Everyone loves free entertainment.
‘Go fuck your white bitch! See if I care!’
At this she goes into the house and slams the door.
Don gathers his clothes and all the other items and loads
them into his car.
As he drives out of North Riding on Beyers Naudé
Drive he blames himself for being a gentleman. When the
thought came to him in the deep of the night with Kristin
in his arms that he should face Tumi once and for all and
confess his love for the magistrate, he was tempted to do
so via an SMS, as text messages are called here. He actu-
ally did wake up and reach for his cellphone. But before
he could even write the message he rebuked himself for
being cowardly and unfeeling. He has been with Tumi for
all these years and he at least owed her the decency of
breaking up with her in person. Thus, after dropping the
magistrate at work he went straight to Three Oaks.
He should have obeyed his first instinct.
He is at the Jim Fouché Road traffic lights when his
cellphone rings. It is Tumi.
‘It’s just infatuation, Don,’ she says.
‘What is there to talk about since you threw my stuff
out?’ asks Don in a wounded voice as if he is the wronged
party here.
ZAKES MDA
282
‘It is infatuation,’ repeats Tumi. ‘The novelty will
wear off, Don. You’ll come back begging, but I won’t have
time for you, Don. I can get any man I want, Don, and I’m
going to move on. Do you hear me, Don? Don?’
Don does not respond, though he continues to hold
the phone to his ear as he negotiates his way in the late
morning traffic on Jim Fouché.
‘OK, I forgive you, Don,’ says Tumi desperately. ‘We
can always start afresh. I forgive you.’
‘There’s no starting afresh, Tumi.’
‘What part of “I forgive you” don’t you understand,
man?’
‘We’ll talk later—I’m driving in heavy traffic.’
He cuts her off and puts the cellphone back in his
breast pocket. It rings immediately. Again it is Tumi.
‘Yes, Tumi,’ says Don impatiently.
‘I want that car back,’ she says with vehemence. ‘I
paid the deposit for that car and I want it back.’
‘I pay the instalments for it, Tumi. And I’ll give you
your deposit back.’
‘I want it now, Don. Now! And I want that suit you
are wearing back. And those Gucci shoes, and all those
Versaces. I want everything back, Don, and I want it now,
not tomorrow.’
He switches the cellphone off.
The next morning Kristin Uys is sitting at the dressing
table making herself up. Don is in the bathroom taking
BLACK DIAMOND
283
a shower. A cellphone rings and she looks for it. She traces
the sound to Don’s clothes that are piled on the chair.
She searches the pants and finds the cellphone.
‘Don Mateza’s phone. Hello?’
‘Mrs Mateza,’ says a voice with a strong Zulu accent,
‘this is the Roodepoort abattoir. We are slaughtering this
afternoon. Should we reserve another pig’s head for you?’
‘A pig’s head?’
‘We were wondering if you want to place another
order.’
She sits dumbfounded while the man on the line
prattles on in the best tradition of salesmanship about
how his own family enjoys the delicacy of a pig’s head,
and how he thought of calling the Mateza family first
before vendors came and bought everything. He realizes
after a while that no one is listening on the other side,
utters a curse, and hangs up.
Don walks out of the bathroom, his body naked and
moist. He is drying his head with a towel. He is whistling
happily to himself and is not aware that Kristin is sitting
on the bed with a dazed look, like a boxer who has
received one good punch which nevertheless has failed
to achieve a knockout. She is still holding his cellphone.
‘Don, the abattoir called,’ she says finally.
‘The abattoir? About what?’ asks Don.
‘They have another pig’s head for you.’ She is amazed
how calm she is.
ZAKES MDA
284
She hands him the cellphone. He extends his hand
reluctantly, as if the phone is a snake that will bite him,
and withdraws it again without touching the phone.
‘Maybe you should call them and order it,’ she says.
He snatches the phone from her hand angrily.
Common wisdom tells us that the best defence is offence.
‘Where do you get off answering my calls? Searching
my pants?’ he asks, fuming and pacing the floor.
‘So, it was you all along? All this time? I have been
blaming the Visagie Brothers for nothing. I have lived in
fear for nothing.’
Offence cannot work here. This calls for contrition
instead. He sits on the bed shamefaced and buries his face
in his hands.
‘Oh, no, it was them,’ says Don. ‘Mine was only the
pig’s head. The rest was truly the work of the Visagie
Brothers.’
‘Why, Don? Why?’ Tears threaten to stream out of
her eyes. But she’ll be damned if this man sees her cry.
Not for this. Not for him. The old Kristin Uys is back.
‘I only did the pig thing,’ repeats Don. ‘I was afraid of
losing you, Kristin. I am sorry. It was after you said we
should live apart because the threats against you had
stopped. It was stupid of me, but I was desperate.’
She stands up and looks at him. Her eyes are full of
nothing but contempt. His nakedness worsens his shame
and though he is normally a man of robust stature his
bodylooksshrunkenandpitiful,asifitwantstowithdraw
BLACK DIAMOND
285
into itself. And hide there until the storm has passed. But
Kristin’s is a quiet storm. She does not rant and rave like
Tumi did yesterday morning. Kristin’s fury is measured.
Still, it is fury.
‘You must leave, Don. Now,’ she says resolutely. ‘I
never want to have anything to do with you ever again.
There is no way I can ever trust you again.’
Hell hath no fury!
Don shamefacedly grabs his clothes from the chair
and some from the built-in closet. He goes to the guest
room where the rest of his stuff is piled on the bed,
including the items he brought from Tumi’s apartment
yesterday. Kristin follows him to make sure that not a
single trace of him remains in her house.
‘And don’t forget your cat,’ she says.
‘I’ll come back for it later,’ he says.
‘You just want an excuse to come back here,’ she says.
‘I don’t want you back here, Don. Not for anything.’
‘I have to find a home for it first, Kristin. I don’t know
where I’m going as it is.’
She doesn’t have the heart to punish the cat for the
sins of its master. The cat will stay. But only for a few
days. She does not want anything in her house that will
remind her of this unfortunate episode in her life.
She goes back to her bedroom and locks herself in
there while Don packs his clothes in a suitcase. There are
too many of them. He packs the rest in large garbage
ZAKES MDA
286
bags. Already there are a number of garbage bags full of
clothes on the floor and on the bed.
After loading them in his car he knocks at her door
to say goodbye. But she won’t open the door. He can hear
some sniffling. He begs her one more time to reconsider
her decision to kick him out of her life. He is full of
remorse, he says, and has learnt a good lesson. He truly
truly loves her and has lost Tumi for her.
She shouts that he should voetsak, an expletive that
you say only to a dog.
Don cruises on the N1 Highway in his imported Saab.
He is driving against the heavy, snail-pace traffic of
people who are going to work in Pretoria. He is not in a
hurry to get anywhere because he has nowhere to go. The
top of the car is up and he is surrounded by black garbage
bags, right up to the roof.
Soweto. That’s the place. That’s where you go when
you want to calm your spirit. That’s where people who
understand you are bound to be. People who know your
pain because they have gone through similar pain many
times over.
But today Soweto will not be Rre Molefhe’s house.
Not even to greet the old man and listen to his latest CD
of some forgotten jazz giant. He must already know that
he has betrayed his daughter. The grapevine is fast in
Soweto and it works in mysterious ways.
If Soweto is not Rre Molefhe’s then it must be
Wezile’s Restaurant. His friends are unlikely to be there
BLACK DIAMOND
287
because it is still too early. They are the types who sleep
until midday, since they are jobless, and drink till the
small hours of the morning. But he can sit there and
while away time while he plans his next move. He is not
completely washed-up. He is the new Chief Executive
Officer of VIP Protection Services. The women who are
giving him a hard time had better remember that.
Cleaners are still vacuuming and dusting the place
up at Wezile’s. They let him in because they know who he
is. In any event a tavern, for this is what it is even though
it may pretend to be a restaurant, is open for business at
any hour whenever there is a customer who wants to
spend his good money.
He sits in the lounge with a beer and watches the flat-
screen television on the wall. He is not paying much
attention to Vuyo Mbuli who is interviewing three
women on his ‘Morning Live’ programme on SABC 2.
Until he hears Tumi’s voice. And Tumi’s mischievous
giggle. And there she is on the screen being interviewed
with two of her models. One of them has been signed up
by Ford Models in New York and Tumi is all effervescent
about it because it means her agency is gaining more
respectability internationally. Tumi has also managed to
negotiate a six-figure contract for the second model to
represent a beauty-soap brand exclusively. Vuyo Mbuli
praises Tumi’s success and hails this as a breakthrough
not perhaps too reckless?
They eat quietly for some time. Actually, he is the one
who cleans off his plate. She is only playing with her food
with a fork.
‘I think this Visagie thing has stressed you out,’ he
says. ‘But there is no going back now, Kristin. We’ve got
to see it through.’
She agrees. They have to see it through. She hopes he
won’t think she doesn’t appreciate his sacrificing some-
thing of himself for her.
‘So, no more talk of resigning?’ he asks.
‘No more talk of resigning,’ she says.
‘No more talk of leaving town?’
She giggles like a little girl. ‘No more talk of leaving
town.’
BLACK DIAMOND
277
He kisses her. She kisses him back. She no longer
cares what anyone else watching thinks. There are mostly
young people at the takeaway counter and a few at the
tables. They are minding their own business and don’t
pay attention to the mature mixed-race couple. They see
a lot of this sort of thing in their ranks, especially here in
the suburbs.
Just then Jim Baxter breaks their embrace with a
telephone call. He wants to see Don first thing in the
morning.
Don gets a doggy bag from the waitron, as they now
prefer to be called, and takes Kristin’s food for his lunch
tomorrow.
The next morning Don goes straight to VIP
Protection Services after dropping Kristin at the court-
house. He is dreading what Baxter has to tell him. He
hopes he is not taking him off this case. Or perhaps he
wants to complain about the expense account. He has
been extravagant lately, paying Aunt Magda and the pros-
titutes and taking Kristin to sample some of the nightlife
of Johannesburg. Baxter should have no cause to com-
plain about that because the Department of Justice will
foot that entire bill—it is part of the expense of looking
after the safety of the magistrate.
He rushes down the corridor anxiously to the
CEO’s office. He knocks timidly and enters. Jim Baxter
welcomes him with a stern look. Four men are with him.
Don knows that two of them are members of the board
of directors, and the big white-haired man with a
ZAKES MDA
278
militaristic pose in a black suit and dark glasses is the
chairman of the board.
‘Mr Mateza!’ says Baxter.
This worries Don even more. He has always been Don
to this man, just as the man has always been Jim to him.
‘You wanted to see me, Mr Baxter,’ says Don, almost
out of breath.
‘We are taking you off the magistrate’s case,’ says
Baxter confirming Don’s suspicions.
‘Why? What have I done?’
The men laugh. Don breathes a sigh of relief.
‘I thought you’d be pleased, Mr Mateza,’ says Baxter.
‘Anyway, you can’t be CEO of VIP Protection Services and
the magistrate’s bodyguard at the same time.’
Don is at a loss for words. The chairman of the board
pops a bottle of champagne and another director hands
out the glasses.
19
HELL HATH NO FURY
Tumi is standing at the door of her townhouse yelling for
the entire neighbourhood to hear. She is in her morning
gown and slippers. Don is standing outside helplessly. As
she yells she throws articles of clothing on the lawn and
Don scrambles to pick them up.
Hell hath no fury!
‘That’s always the case with you bastards,’ she hollers
as she hurls a shoe at him. He catches it with the dexterity
of a rugby player, but before he can recover his balance
another shoe hits him on the head. The head spins a bit
but there is no time to nurse it because missiles are rain-
ing on him from the house.
‘Once you become a Black Diamond black sisters are
no longer good enough for you! Fucking a white woman
is a bloody status symbol. Now that you’re a bloody CEO
you think you are Molotov Mbungane all of a sudden.’
He knows what she is talking about. They used to
laugh about Comrade Molotov’s high jinks when things
were still great between them. The billionaire had a wife
and two children at his home village in the Transkei
ZAKES MDA
280
before he went into exile and then to Robben Island. As
soon as he was released from jail and occupied an impor-
tant cabinet post he forgot all about his customary law
wife and married a white woman—an Afrikaner who was
a secretary at his cabinet office left over from the old
regime. A white wife, according to Tumi, made him more
palatable to white business. No one talks of his village
wife any more. Her children grew up herding cattle and
she worked as a kitchen ‘girl’ for the owners of the village
general dealers’ store.
‘It has nothing to do with that, Tumi,’ says Don. ‘I
really do care about Kristin.’
‘Look at me, Don,’ she says, instinctively posing like
the model she used to be. ‘Look at this body. You telling me
you’re leaving me for some old white hag? And you do this
to me after all the years I have supported you, njandini!’
She has never called him njandini, you dog, before.
They have never had such a public spat either. Like all
lovers they have had their occasional quarrel, but always
in the privacy of their bedroom. This new flaming Tumi
is a revelation to him.
Hell hath no fury!
‘I’m just being honest with you, Tumi. It’s not work-
ing between us.’
At this another missile flies—a wicker cat basket.
‘Yeah, now that you have your promotion it’s not
working between us. It was working all along when you
were eating my money.’
BLACK DIAMOND
281
‘It has nothing to do with the promotion, Tumi.’
Neighbours—mostly domestic servants and house-
wives since most people are at work at this time—gather
to witness the row. Everyone loves free entertainment.
‘Go fuck your white bitch! See if I care!’
At this she goes into the house and slams the door.
Don gathers his clothes and all the other items and loads
them into his car.
As he drives out of North Riding on Beyers Naudé
Drive he blames himself for being a gentleman. When the
thought came to him in the deep of the night with Kristin
in his arms that he should face Tumi once and for all and
confess his love for the magistrate, he was tempted to do
so via an SMS, as text messages are called here. He actu-
ally did wake up and reach for his cellphone. But before
he could even write the message he rebuked himself for
being cowardly and unfeeling. He has been with Tumi for
all these years and he at least owed her the decency of
breaking up with her in person. Thus, after dropping the
magistrate at work he went straight to Three Oaks.
He should have obeyed his first instinct.
He is at the Jim Fouché Road traffic lights when his
cellphone rings. It is Tumi.
‘It’s just infatuation, Don,’ she says.
‘What is there to talk about since you threw my stuff
out?’ asks Don in a wounded voice as if he is the wronged
party here.
ZAKES MDA
282
‘It is infatuation,’ repeats Tumi. ‘The novelty will
wear off, Don. You’ll come back begging, but I won’t have
time for you, Don. I can get any man I want, Don, and I’m
going to move on. Do you hear me, Don? Don?’
Don does not respond, though he continues to hold
the phone to his ear as he negotiates his way in the late
morning traffic on Jim Fouché.
‘OK, I forgive you, Don,’ says Tumi desperately. ‘We
can always start afresh. I forgive you.’
‘There’s no starting afresh, Tumi.’
‘What part of “I forgive you” don’t you understand,
man?’
‘We’ll talk later—I’m driving in heavy traffic.’
He cuts her off and puts the cellphone back in his
breast pocket. It rings immediately. Again it is Tumi.
‘Yes, Tumi,’ says Don impatiently.
‘I want that car back,’ she says with vehemence. ‘I
paid the deposit for that car and I want it back.’
‘I pay the instalments for it, Tumi. And I’ll give you
your deposit back.’
‘I want it now, Don. Now! And I want that suit you
are wearing back. And those Gucci shoes, and all those
Versaces. I want everything back, Don, and I want it now,
not tomorrow.’
He switches the cellphone off.
The next morning Kristin Uys is sitting at the dressing
table making herself up. Don is in the bathroom taking
BLACK DIAMOND
283
a shower. A cellphone rings and she looks for it. She traces
the sound to Don’s clothes that are piled on the chair.
She searches the pants and finds the cellphone.
‘Don Mateza’s phone. Hello?’
‘Mrs Mateza,’ says a voice with a strong Zulu accent,
‘this is the Roodepoort abattoir. We are slaughtering this
afternoon. Should we reserve another pig’s head for you?’
‘A pig’s head?’
‘We were wondering if you want to place another
order.’
She sits dumbfounded while the man on the line
prattles on in the best tradition of salesmanship about
how his own family enjoys the delicacy of a pig’s head,
and how he thought of calling the Mateza family first
before vendors came and bought everything. He realizes
after a while that no one is listening on the other side,
utters a curse, and hangs up.
Don walks out of the bathroom, his body naked and
moist. He is drying his head with a towel. He is whistling
happily to himself and is not aware that Kristin is sitting
on the bed with a dazed look, like a boxer who has
received one good punch which nevertheless has failed
to achieve a knockout. She is still holding his cellphone.
‘Don, the abattoir called,’ she says finally.
‘The abattoir? About what?’ asks Don.
‘They have another pig’s head for you.’ She is amazed
how calm she is.
ZAKES MDA
284
She hands him the cellphone. He extends his hand
reluctantly, as if the phone is a snake that will bite him,
and withdraws it again without touching the phone.
‘Maybe you should call them and order it,’ she says.
He snatches the phone from her hand angrily.
Common wisdom tells us that the best defence is offence.
‘Where do you get off answering my calls? Searching
my pants?’ he asks, fuming and pacing the floor.
‘So, it was you all along? All this time? I have been
blaming the Visagie Brothers for nothing. I have lived in
fear for nothing.’
Offence cannot work here. This calls for contrition
instead. He sits on the bed shamefaced and buries his face
in his hands.
‘Oh, no, it was them,’ says Don. ‘Mine was only the
pig’s head. The rest was truly the work of the Visagie
Brothers.’
‘Why, Don? Why?’ Tears threaten to stream out of
her eyes. But she’ll be damned if this man sees her cry.
Not for this. Not for him. The old Kristin Uys is back.
‘I only did the pig thing,’ repeats Don. ‘I was afraid of
losing you, Kristin. I am sorry. It was after you said we
should live apart because the threats against you had
stopped. It was stupid of me, but I was desperate.’
She stands up and looks at him. Her eyes are full of
nothing but contempt. His nakedness worsens his shame
and though he is normally a man of robust stature his
bodylooksshrunkenandpitiful,asifitwantstowithdraw
BLACK DIAMOND
285
into itself. And hide there until the storm has passed. But
Kristin’s is a quiet storm. She does not rant and rave like
Tumi did yesterday morning. Kristin’s fury is measured.
Still, it is fury.
‘You must leave, Don. Now,’ she says resolutely. ‘I
never want to have anything to do with you ever again.
There is no way I can ever trust you again.’
Hell hath no fury!
Don shamefacedly grabs his clothes from the chair
and some from the built-in closet. He goes to the guest
room where the rest of his stuff is piled on the bed,
including the items he brought from Tumi’s apartment
yesterday. Kristin follows him to make sure that not a
single trace of him remains in her house.
‘And don’t forget your cat,’ she says.
‘I’ll come back for it later,’ he says.
‘You just want an excuse to come back here,’ she says.
‘I don’t want you back here, Don. Not for anything.’
‘I have to find a home for it first, Kristin. I don’t know
where I’m going as it is.’
She doesn’t have the heart to punish the cat for the
sins of its master. The cat will stay. But only for a few
days. She does not want anything in her house that will
remind her of this unfortunate episode in her life.
She goes back to her bedroom and locks herself in
there while Don packs his clothes in a suitcase. There are
too many of them. He packs the rest in large garbage
ZAKES MDA
286
bags. Already there are a number of garbage bags full of
clothes on the floor and on the bed.
After loading them in his car he knocks at her door
to say goodbye. But she won’t open the door. He can hear
some sniffling. He begs her one more time to reconsider
her decision to kick him out of her life. He is full of
remorse, he says, and has learnt a good lesson. He truly
truly loves her and has lost Tumi for her.
She shouts that he should voetsak, an expletive that
you say only to a dog.
Don cruises on the N1 Highway in his imported Saab.
He is driving against the heavy, snail-pace traffic of
people who are going to work in Pretoria. He is not in a
hurry to get anywhere because he has nowhere to go. The
top of the car is up and he is surrounded by black garbage
bags, right up to the roof.
Soweto. That’s the place. That’s where you go when
you want to calm your spirit. That’s where people who
understand you are bound to be. People who know your
pain because they have gone through similar pain many
times over.
But today Soweto will not be Rre Molefhe’s house.
Not even to greet the old man and listen to his latest CD
of some forgotten jazz giant. He must already know that
he has betrayed his daughter. The grapevine is fast in
Soweto and it works in mysterious ways.
If Soweto is not Rre Molefhe’s then it must be
Wezile’s Restaurant. His friends are unlikely to be there
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because it is still too early. They are the types who sleep
until midday, since they are jobless, and drink till the
small hours of the morning. But he can sit there and
while away time while he plans his next move. He is not
completely washed-up. He is the new Chief Executive
Officer of VIP Protection Services. The women who are
giving him a hard time had better remember that.
Cleaners are still vacuuming and dusting the place
up at Wezile’s. They let him in because they know who he
is. In any event a tavern, for this is what it is even though
it may pretend to be a restaurant, is open for business at
any hour whenever there is a customer who wants to
spend his good money.
He sits in the lounge with a beer and watches the flat-
screen television on the wall. He is not paying much
attention to Vuyo Mbuli who is interviewing three
women on his ‘Morning Live’ programme on SABC 2.
Until he hears Tumi’s voice. And Tumi’s mischievous
giggle. And there she is on the screen being interviewed
with two of her models. One of them has been signed up
by Ford Models in New York and Tumi is all effervescent
about it because it means her agency is gaining more
respectability internationally. Tumi has also managed to
negotiate a six-figure contract for the second model to
represent a beauty-soap brand exclusively. Vuyo Mbuli
praises Tumi’s success and hails this as a breakthrough
