Layout 1, p.27

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  in the South African modelling industry.

  Tumi giggles once more.

  ZAKES MDA

  288

  Don hates her for looking so beautiful. And so happy.

  He dozes on the sofa, until he is woken up by the

  arrival of Fontyo and Bova, who are surprised to see him

  in Soweto so early in the morning on a workday. They are

  early because there is a promotion here today and Don

  thinks they have come for the booze that usually flows

  freely on such occasions. Already Wezile is placing ban-

  ners with the logos of liquor company sponsors on the

  street in front of the restaurant and even as far off as the

  end of the street in front of other people’s houses.

  Neighbours have complained about this inconvenience

  and about the noise to no avail. In Soweto it is a free-for-

  all. There are no zoning laws.

  Bova and Fontyo become quite handy in such situa-

  tions. They help Wezile set plastic garden furniture and

  braai stands on the pavement. Soon the smoke is billow-

  ing and kwaito music is throbbing from giant speakers.

  No one seems to mind that there is a school only thirty

  metres away and the students are already streaming in.

  The adult patrons will look the other way when bigger

  boys and girls play truant and end up drunk here.

  Don is hungry and they don’t serve breakfast at

  Wezile’s. The cooks are busy in the kitchen making the

  lunch and dinner that people will be buying during the

  promotion. Fontyo offers to dash to a nearby cafe to buy

  him breakfast, provided he gives him enough money to

  get food for himself and Bova as well.

  As they eat ikota— white bread stuffed with soft chips,

  atchaar, minced meat, Russian sausages and pieces of

  BLACK DIAMOND

  289

  steak—Don tells them of his woes. These are his friends,

  people with whom he fought a war, so he is honest with

  them. He tells them everything, beginning with how he

  got a terrible job as the magistrate’s bodyguard, to how he

  ended up sleeping with the magistrate and how things

  soured between him and the two women. These are men;

  they will understand what he is going through. It is always

  a relief to unburden yourself to people with whom you

  share so much history; his pain is beginning to ebb away

  already—it is going to be their pain as well.

  ‘What is he going to do now?’ asks Bova. He is not

  directing the question at Don but at Fontyo. Fontyo looks

  at Don and asks, ‘What are you going to do, comrade?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ says Don. ‘Maybe I can sleep at your

  place until I think things over. Just for a few nights while

  I look for an apartment or something.’

  Don is surprised that Bova and Fontyo want to confer

  about it first. They are comrades; he expected them to

  offer him accommodation without his even asking. But

  they ask to be excused to discuss the matter privately.

  When they return they say unfortunately they will

  not be able to accommodate Don. They are going on a

  very long trip. It is obvious to Don that they want to keep

  everything mysterious.

  ‘Why can’t I stay at your place while you are gone?’

  he asks.

  No. That won’t work. Bova tries quickly to think why

  not but the best he can do is come up with the feeble

  excuse that his relatives from some ‘homeland’ are visiting

  ZAKES MDA

  290

  and therefore there will be no place for him. Don knows

  immediately that he is lying. Bova does not come from

  any homeland, nor does he have relatives in one. He was

  born in Soweto, as was his father before him, and his

  father’s father. His mother, too, was a Sowetan through

  and through. In any event there are no places called

  homelands any more, not since Bova himself won the lib-

  eration struggle. There are other reasons they don’t want

  him at their place. And this ludicrous trip, it must be a

  lie too. These two clowns never take a trip anywhere.

  Somehow they want to get rid of him.

  ‘ Ja, it’s a trip of a lifetime,’ says Bova. ‘It’s going to

  change our lives.’

  Don offers them drinks but, to his utter amazement,

  they turn them down. They’ve got to stay sober for the

  trip. They only came here today to help Wezile set up the

  place for the promotion. Otherwise, for the whole day

  they are teetotallers. He buys himself a beer and nurses

  it because it is lousy to drink alone.

  When Fontyo hints that they are on to something big

  Don feels left out. He could never imagine Fontyo and

  Bova keeping secrets from him.

  And what has happened to their usual banter? To

  their teasing him about being a security guard? With this

  awkwardness among them he has not even told them the

  good news—the promotion to CEO.

  ‘ Sies, man!’ Bova bursts out as if he has been sup-

  pressing it all along. ‘ Jy’ s ‘ n moegoe, jong. You’re an idiot.

  You leave a woman like Tumi for an old white woman!’

  BLACK DIAMOND

  291

  Fontyo laughs mockingly, ‘ Ulizwe kahle ikhekhe

  lengamla, neh?’

  So, that’s what this is all about. Tumi. They are mad

  at him because he has betrayed their home girl. They even

  attribute his so-called dumping of Tumi to the fact that

  he ‘tasted a white woman’s cake’, as Fontyo puts it, and it

  has drained him of all common sense. They don’t under-

  stand. If only they walked a few yards in his shoes they

  would understand. He would blame their strange atti-

  tude towards him on beer but both of them are unchar-

  acteristically sober. Or maybe they had a few puffs of

  dagga before they came here. Fontyo, particularly, is

  rather partial to Mary Jane, as he calls the green herb.

  ‘He thinks a white woman’s cake is the fastest way to

  becoming like Comrade Capitalist,’ says Fontyo. ‘Soon he

  will be looking down on us, treating us like dirt like he is

  doing to Tumi.’

  Bova looks him straight in the eye and asks,

  ‘Comrade AK, did we fight the liberation struggle so that

  we can get between the thighs of white women? Do you

  think our comrades died for that?’

  Don is taken aback by the vehemence and the disgust

  in his voice.

  Tumi didn’t even like these guys. She didn’t give a

  damn about them. She thought they were lazy bums who

  spent their time whingeing instead of getting out there and

  reaching for the opportunities presented by the new South

  Africa. Yet here they are, crucifying him for betraying her.

  Why are they taking his break-up with her so personally?

  ZAKES MDA

  292

  They leave him in the lounge nursing his beer and

  busy themselves with helping set up the place. In return,

  Wezile offers them food and a beer each but, to his sur-

  prise, they turn down the offer of beer. They will eat the

  braai meat and pap but today is not a drinking day for

  them.

  By midday more patrons have arrived and the danc-

  ing begins. They play the crossover kwaito song ‘Music’

  by Mandoza and Danny K over and over again until it gets

  on Don’s nerves. He stands up and staggers to the dance

  floor in the next room. It is small because Wezile’s is

  really just an ordinary township home converted into a

  restaurant. His eyes are searching for Bova and Fontyo as

  he dances feebly on his own. But they are nowhere to be

  seen. He cuts a pathetic figure and goes back to the

  lounge. He dozes on the sofa.

  When he opens his eyes it is late in the afternoon and

  there are loud men and women drinking all around him.

  He knows some of them casually from meeting them here

  on previous occasions or from the days when he was a

  township boy.

  The television is on although no one is really watch-

  ing it. No one can hear the sound in any case because

  Mandoza and Danny K are drowning it.

  Don sees a fleeting image of Aunt Magda on the

  screen, then the camera moves to the anchor.

  ‘Hey majita, just be quiet a little bit,’ he pleads. ‘I just

  want to hear what this is all about.’

  BLACK DIAMOND

  293

  The revellers keep quiet; they are curious to see what

  is so important that the guy in the Versace suit wants

  them to stop their conversation. Don raises the volume.

  ‘There were scenes of jubilation outside the gates of

  Diepkloof Prison when Stevo Visagie was released from

  what his followers claim was an unfair and vindictive

  sentence,’ says the anchor.

  The camera then pans to the prison gates. Members

  of the Society of Widows led by Aunt Magda are singing

  and dancing to welcome Stevo Visagie. Our prostitutes

  are there as well, those we once saw in court and again

  with Don at the tavern in Roodepoort. The very same

  prostitutes who were supposed to be gathering intelli-

  gence for him. Stevo walks out of the prison gates and

  marches among his followers holding hands with Ma

  Visagie, exactly as Nelson Mandela walked out of Victor

  Verster Prison hand in hand with Winnie Mandela. Stevo

  looks quite uncomfortable in a grey suit, white shirt and

  red tie. Shortie and the prostitutes are following closely.

  When Stevo sees Aunt Magda among the dancing

  widows he calls out, ‘Aunt Magda! Aunt Magda!’ and tries

  to reach for her with open arms. But Ma Visagie pulls him

  back to her violently and the march continues to her

  kombi. Aunt Magda’s smoky voice can be heard above

  everyone else’s.

  The denizens at Wezile’s don’t understand what

  Don’s fascination is with this mundane story on televi-

  sion, and why they had to stop their boisterous banter,

  ZAKES MDA

  294

  which promptly resumes even as the news item contin-

  ues. One of the revellers exclaims, ‘Who cares about some

  boertjie boy who was in jail?’

  But Don is staring at the television screen with grow-

  ing alarm. Suddenly he stands up and makes for the door.

  He must get to Kristin Uys before Stevo Visagie does.

  20

  THE FINAL DANCE

  At the Visagie home the dining-room table is heaving

  with a gigantic baked turkey, potatoes, rice, vegetables,

  sweetmeats and koeksisters. A topless Stevo is stuffing

  himself. Ma Visagie and our prostitutes are fussing over

  him. Shortie is quietly enjoying the meal, envying all the

  attention that is being showered on his brother just

  because he was stupid enough to insult a magistrate. He

  is in his greasy overalls because, while his brother was

  vacationing at the state’s expense, he was working his

  butt off at the Visagie scrapyard trying to scrape a liveli-

  hood for everyone else.

  Stevo is all laughter as he listens to the prostitutes.

  Now and then he takes a swig from a bottle of beer.

  Aunt Magda is sitting timidly away from the table,

  almost behind the door. She is fearful of calling attention

  to herself by participating in the conversation. She knows

  that she is not welcome here by the matriarch. She came

  in at Stevo’s insistence after she had remained outside for

  more than an hour with the Society of Widows who fol-

  lowed the Visagies to Strubensvallei and continued to

  ZAKES MDA

  296

  sing hymns, thanking the Lord for releasing their hero

  from the shackles of Pharaoh. Stevo asked the prostitutes

  to serve the widows some drinks and invited Aunt Magda

  to share in their meal. Ma Visagie did not voice any objec-

  tion, though her face displayed a disapproving look. She

  decided to shut up and indulge Stevo just for once.

  One of the prostitutes is telling the table about Don

  Mateza—how he tried to bribe them to betray Stevo and

  how they made him believe they would work for him.

  They laugh at his credulity.

  ‘So this bodyguard guy says he wants to get evidence

  that will keep you in jail for ever,’ she says.

  ‘He wanted us to get him Mr Fingers,’ says the second

  prostitute.

  This alarms Shortie.

  ‘Fingers Matatu?’ he screeches. ‘How did he know

  about Fingers Matatu?’

  ‘Relax, my china,’ says Stevo. ‘I’m here now, am I not?

  He’s not gonna come here scaring you again. And how

  much did he pay for the head of Mr Fingers?’

  The prostitutes are reluctant to say. Instead they

  blether about their difficulties when Stevo was in jail and

  the problem of making ends meet without their business

  manager, as they prefer to call the pimp. But Stevo knows

  what they are trying to do—take him off the subject of

  how much exactly they were paid by the bodyguard.

  ‘How much, bitch?’ he asks, glaring at the girls

  menacingly.

  BLACK DIAMOND

  297

  ‘It was only a few hundred,’ says the prostitute.

  ‘You think I’m gonna ask for my cut, hey, bitch?

  Maybe I should because you got that money at my

  expense.’

  But Ma Visagie comes to the rescue of the prosti-

  tutes. ‘Don’t be hard on the girls, Stevo. They had to sur-

  vive while you were enjoying a holiday at Sun City.’

  Stevo breaks out laughing. ‘I don’t want their money,

  Ma. It’s peanuts if you take into account what we gonna

  be making from now on. I have a dream, my china. We

  gonna be multimillionaires many times over. We gonna

  show them that it’s not only black people who can be

  multimillionaires. We gonna rock this city with the

  biggest syndicate it has ever seen. We gonna fly in our

  own jet.’

  All eyes are agog at Stevo’s dream because it is the

  kind of dream that cannot be sneezed at. Unless you are

  Ma Visagie. She sees this as Stevo’s empty talk. When the

  giddiness of freedom has worn off he will become normal

  again and will resume his regular job of pimping the

  girls.

  Shortie is not impressed either. He knows already

  that his brother developed this strange habit of dreaming

  when he was in jail and then bursting out in excitement

  about the dreams.

  Aunt Magda sees herself as part of the dream. Stevo

  would never leave her out of any dream. When she opens

  her mouth for the first time since taking her humble

  ZAKES MDA

  298

  place behind the door it is to remind everyone that she

  spent all the money she received from Don Mateza on

  Stevo. She bought Stevo food and sweet-smelling

  colognes and a suit so that he could look like the freedom

  fighter he is when he walked out of prison. Even though

  Stevo was at first reluctant to wear a suit because he

  thought it made him appear a sissy, didn’t everyone see

  how handsome he looked on television?

  Perhaps Aunt Magda should have kept quiet about

  this. Ma Visagie begins pacing the floor and muttering

  something about a coloured woman from Cape Town

  who has no business buying her son stuff, trying to

  change him into a girl with colognes and suits.

  Stevo tries to defend Aunt Magda. Ma should stop

  picking on her because she looked after him, and adds,

  ‘Unlike some people I know who are my family but don’t

  do nothing for me when I’m in jail.’

  An unwise thing to say.

  Ma Visagie demands that Aunt Magda should leave

  at once. Stevo stands at the door and says Aunt Magda is

  not going anywhere.

  ‘If that is the case, Stevo, you can leave too,’ says Ma

  Visagie.

  ‘No dice, Ma,’ says Stevo.

  This is another example of Aunt Magda’s bad influ-

  ence on Stevo. He would never have tried to stand up to

  his mother before the Cape Flats woman came back into

  their lives with her mass action and fancy ideas that she

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  299

  claims to have learnt from what she calls The Struggle.

  There can be only one alpha female in the Visagie house-

  hold and she is not about to abdicate that position to a

  woman who used to be her maid. There can be only one

  alpha anything, come to think of it, and Stevo is playing

  with fire pretending he can challenge her.

  Stevo seems to understand this. At the first glare

 

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