Lion of Soweto

Chapter 18

Ready to dip his neck into the unfamiliar waters of government contracts, Bandele enters the back seat of his white Range Rover SUV this Monday morning. Pono and the driver take the front seat as the three men cruise out of Polemann Street.

On getting to the municipality complex, locating a parking space becomes a problem.

"Don't go to the car park." Bandele barks to the driver.

While the hapless man glances around, the boss sniggers at the two fenced four-storey buildings standing before them. Is this the municipality people make so much noise about? Where they give out contract worth hundreds of millions?

The sight of a luxury vehicle around the complex draws staff members to their windows peering at the moneybag. Those on the pavements pause to see the contractor barging in so early. It's only 9 am. Not until noon do they receive visitors of this calibre.

When tenderpreneurs come around, usually to curry favours from staff, the flurry of activities which greet their arrival leads to money exchanging hands. In return, staff members cut corners to ensure such persons leave early and with assurances that their tenders will be approved and shortlisted.

Bandele isn't here to submit a tender. He didn't even prepare one. Although his vehicle is posh and glittering, such automobiles aren't unfamiliar in the complex.

After the driver parks the SUV, Pono jumps out to open the back door, upon which Bandele emerges dressed in a brown African-print robe, mahogany walking-stick in hand. On his head is a red cap which passes him off as a stranger in the land. The upper class in Soweto don't dress this way, but the businessman is getting fashion ideas from Nollywood drama.

Not only does Bandele's attire stand him out, but his carriage also announces immense wealth. His mission here is to drive home the point that no one else qualifies for whatever tender they may have open. After this visit, any Soweto businessman that competes with him is wasting time.

"I won't stay here for more than twenty minutes," Bandele says with a frown inspired by the scorching spring sun, which proves too harsh for a man who can't recall when he last left his mansion earlier than half-past four in the afternoon. "Go and call me their boss."

Despite the terrain being unfamiliar, Pono races towards the open gate. Because the boss wants an aide to act before thinking, any effort is worth it. He gets paid for the volume of sweat he breaks per month. To have witnessed it when two drivers got fired after three days of work, for daring to argue with the boss, he knows better than to debate with Bandele. Except when asked for an opinion, in which case he's compelled to talk.

While Pono ambles around in search of the administrator or whatever the boss is called here, Bandele perches in the vehicle scanning the parking lot for cars that compare with his in elegance. None. The two municipality buildings combines don't match his mansion.

The business-centres and fast-food kiosks lined opposite the entrance gate are like his servants' quarters. Those working around the complex aren't as well-fed as his home staff. Not even one of them carries a pot-belly like Pono. "How do these people manage to work in this hot sun?" He says to the driver who cups his hands, curving his lips downwards.

Bandele can't wait to see the boss who must be some awkward fellow; otherwise, the building complex should be better than this.

A bosomy middle-aged woman wearing a lilac knee-length gown and low-haircut dashes towards Bandele. "Nkosi." She genuflects. "I'm Nolwazi and I work in this municipality. What can we do for you, sir?"

Bandele sizes the lady up. Can he take her home when leaving this place? Much as the glittering haircut sits well on her big head, she's corpulent and out of shape. "I'm here to pick up the tender you published in the newspaper."