We did our goodbyes and hopped and skipped bending tall grass sagged, leaden with rain water. We had been satisfied, whatsoever, with the detour we had taken on our way home. I was soon to take a different direction from that of hers, but I being what I am, didn’t mind doing an extra mile just to get the privacy she demanded. These people of the white garment church needed a Songs of Innocence kind of crusade. Call William Blake.
2014 NOVEMBER 22. The two of us sat for the last Literature Paper. It was rainy and a rather cold breeze swept the centre each time the door was opened. Because we were in the rurals, the room was kind of dark since nothing could be lit in it. We had, of course, gotten used to it. We both looked to have been done with over 30mins to spare on the clock, something that is very rare with literature exams. I could only feel the overflowing euphoria that kept lingering around us as we made out the school gate, one last glance at the admin block, whose back faced the long driveway to the shopping centre, we were off. We both had over 4km to negotiate but we ignored the stat nonetheless. So we happened, once. Happened in our vocabulary goes only as far as fondling, and kissing, if one is lucky, that is how reserved we are. Anyways, that was our last time meeting so you can see in this narration; it’s also pointless to mention her name.
A week before finishing examinations, I had received a message from home affairs alerting me of the readiness of my 3 months applied for travel document. I always wanted to believe that the document was a South African travel document lol. I couldn’t wait to hit the road to the capital of Midlands. My classmates had always bragged about their imminent journeying to different parts of the country, I was one that would announce my esteemed departure Wenera bound with chin and chest high. As for how prestigious it is to book a seat in Elite coaches, I won’t say, the thought of taking the deck front seat made me feel like writing in my literature script; the epistolary way
Dear Examiner
I will travel to SA in an ELITE coach soon after finishing with this.
Yours Faithfully
Kindest regards
***
14 DECEMBER 2014
I removed my earphones when he off ramped and took a dust road which went in the opposite direction of the great city. Upon asking he told me that he was taking a shortcut. Shortcut to Jozi? I have met numerous people from all walks of life. People who delight from loose ends and even serious inner contradictions. He looked at me and asked if I was scared, I shook my head and reengaged my earpieces. Yes, that was the situation. The car had no speaker at all, the left headlamp had fallen out, the big chickens cage behind it made its appearance a resemblance of Comic cars, the Jeepers Creepers kind. Actually he is the one that told me headsets would do me a world of good. I wriggled and winced in the car seat whose comfort enhancing springs and stuff were showing in every corner. The clover compartment wouldn’t close so with the unevenness of the road it kept dancing and made an irritating sound that disturbed my Zim dancehall playlist each second. All my observations were disturbed by a new wake of dust that seemed to be forming behind us. i saw him, the driver, looking through his rear viewing mirror and ,smile. I removed my earphones. He opened the door and went out to talk to the guys (yes of course he stopped the car, are you insane?) that had jumped out of the black range rover. I thought I could use the time to hit the bush for a six nine, but hey, the passenger’s door would open neither the window nor itself. I started to think Zim dancehall is nonsense when I saw all of them pointing at the bakkie I was in, and laughing though showing signs of not wanting me to recognise it.
My attempt to turn of the music, which I could still hear even without putting on the pieces, brought me to a complete breathing halt. No Service. Emergency calls only. I didn’t think I’d need to call someone but No Service when you not sure of where you going with a stranger after dreams of Elite travelling get body blown by financial fists and your transporter weirdly gets friendly in the middle of nowhere and of course, doesn’t apologise for inconveniencing you even after stopping for twenty minutes, is a sure 3’o clock type of alarm. Oh and the door won’t open lol. When the door rammed against the frame of the car, I realised I was slowly drifting to a nap but was glad to fully wake up and continue with the journey. A new driver. WTF? He didn’t even bother to say hi. He hit a three point turn and we were soon negotiating the twist, turns and bumps of the gravel road. I wanted to speak but I decided against it. The N1 is a busy road, a very busy road. We reached it in less time than we had spent driving in the opposite direction. I started to think that the drive we took in the gravel road was a delaying tactic for the range guys to catch up with us. I just didn’t think there was anything wrong that could happen. With only one guy with me, because the Range was out of sight, I’d surely fight myself out, if it got to that anyway. We joined the N1, in silence, and were soon heading to Louis Trichadt. He stopped at the hiking spot and told me he would leave me to hike to Modjadjiskloof, and also that I should pay nothing at all. The only things he said while getting off and going round the car to open for me. Bewildered, I stepped out of the car. JET LAG. Three hundred and forty km UNPAID FOR. I got out and thanked the lord.
It was around six pm, the season favoured me, the sky was still visibly blue. I wandered from here to there with my satchel hanging on a single strap on my right shoulder, in my left hand, my school track jacket. The N1 doesn’t really get too quiet. A car passes every second minute. I waited no longer than 10 minutes and a White Range Rover pulled over. I hesitated but was given confidence by the driver, a middle aged woman in her early twenties, light skinned and slender. She opened the window and sang a song that I didn’t seem to be perceiving. ‘i am going to Tzaneen,’ I said. ‘Oh hop in,’ she replied, seemingly lifting her left leg. I only realised she was pressing the clutch and engaging the first gear when she effortlessly pushed the gear lever forward otherwise I had been stolen by the skirt whose length was enough to drop eyes and cover essentials simultaneously. I opened the rear door and waited to be called to the front if it weren’t a problem. She said nothing until I closed the door but never moved an inch. I realised she was looking at me via her rear viewing mirror so I avoided looking too. You know gynophobia is not a rare thing with men around seemingly independent women. They are intimidating. ‘Really?’ I heard her say. ‘Sorry?’ I replied and waited. She signalled that I take the front seat with her head which was bald too. I sheepishly took the front seat and immediately felt my blood boiling. This lady was beautiful and she made me feel uncomfortable. I was attracted ,but scared, scared of even starting a conversation. I think she noticed it and said, ‘How do you do TC?’ I nearly jumped out of the moving vehicle at this. She told me she only read what she saw on the jacket. ‘How do you do’ I responded and shut DOWN immediately. Half a km off the hiking spot, she took a right turn and got to Chicken Licken drive through, I had not seen such, I had even forgotten that I was riding in a Range Rover sport car. See what beauty does to men. She drove slowly till she came to the last window, where she received two parcels in different plastic bags. We drove off. By the time she stopped, around five minutes later, the entire car stank like CHICKEN SLICE. She had pulled over just five minutes out of town, the car engine idling, headlights on, she opened the door on her side and got out. She instructed me to follow her with the plastics from the drive through. ‘Bitch. I only asked for a lift, I am going to pay anyway.’ In front of the car she waited for me, I had underrated her figure. Let me tell you about it. Her head was rather too big for her slender dropping shoulders, her eyes, burgled somewhat out of their sockets but still looked like of a doll stashed in that corner of the closet, her breasts were too small for her backside, her backside was thick, damn thick that the razor black skirt slid to the top each time she moved her very yellow thigh, she possessed a defiant limp in her walk which was designed by a swagger of a cat. Was she wearing that one they call WEDGE, WAGE? Whatever the spelling is. Oh damn right she was. Her shoes laced up to her knees. Ladies and gentlemen, awholefuckenbomb. ‘ you must be new here, where you from, Zim?’ Trust Africans to ask three questions that can be answered at once by one word. ‘yeah,’ I replied. I handed the plastics to her, she only took one. ‘ I know you are hungry,’ she said. Ah I wasn’t going to eat, till I noticed she was serious. Chicken Licken gives you wings good people. I ate in silence, maintaining the pace at which she was eating lol. Typical. South Africa.
***
If I may remind you, I had forgotten about the unpleasant exposition of the story of my visit to the famous Joni. From other parts of Southern Africa, the entire SA is known to be Joni, for Joburg. We arrived in Polokwane, at around ten PM and those that have hiked from PLK to Tzaneen, you know my journey’s level of impracticality had risen from 1 to 99. She dropped me at the hiking spot and drove off in a flash. In no time, the R54 road was quiet again. No sign of coming traffic could be picked but fading revs of big engines could be heard softening each moment until suddenly every other tranquil moment another one of a motorbike would break the heavy serenity that was given by this night. I stood there, motionless, undecided. The tales we had listened to about Joni kept ringing in my head and reminded me of the need to be alert. Two cars passed in the direction of PLK CBD and I was amazed to see one pulling over on the other side of the fourway leading to the city centre. Out popped two people and to my greatest astonishment, they were ladies. TH do I have two ladies pulling over, getting out of the car and confidently walking towards me? I wanted to run, until I recognised the other of the two. The same lady who had lifted me from LOIUS to where I was. Why then is she back? What happened to the Range rover that she was driving? All these added to my new in South Africa, whose mysteries I was attempting to work out, all in a day. “I saw you from the car and told my friend to pull over. I see you having no luck here. You think you going to find your way out of this place this time?” It was around eleven by that time and a rather cold breeze slapped my chin each time I turned in the direction of the great city. The automobile engines had suddenly diminished to one in like 5 minutes and it was really becoming stressful. “Come on with us, we going to have fun, I can take you to Tzaneen in the morning, I have to attend a funeral there.” I looked at her and saw a trustworthy pair of eyes, her friend, who had said nothing till then, “It’s really dangerous out here, come on y’all, we running late.” I followed again, this time she took my bag and I couldn’t help but smirk, in disbelief of course, this lady had shown me the highest level of hospitality one can ever get from anyone not a taxi driver. We gotta admit, the taxi rank is the safest place for travelling novices. Soon we were turning to join Ben Harris Street in a BMW 1 Series, trust me I had ridden in more flashy cars in one day than in my entire life.
Flipside Night Club was already teaming with people at that time, the DJ on the turn tables, the dance floor which was abuzz with continuous whistling and cheering, confabulating pairs I thought were engaged in tete a tetes for whatsoever negotiations, the reserved prestigious section for the elites, the bar, the rutilant rays that covered the hall, everything looked asymptomatic of boredom. While I was still trying to negotiate with my thoughts over the first move, a huge song tore through the jostling crowd and the rest was history, the house sang along with great gusto and I found every reason to love South Africa. The ladies, the music, the atmosphere, the joy, the travuu, the oomph, the zeal, the veracity, the absence of lassitude confirmed the presence of utmost excitement. I looked around for the two girls, whose names I had not asked for since my first meeting with the Range Rover lady, and found none. WTF? I made my way to the counter, I don’t know why since I didn’t drink THEN. I got to the counter and reached for a stool. I felt someone grabbing me by the jacket, I turned and recognised her, she handed me a glass which I assumed had strong stuff in it but I accepted nonetheless. She stood as I sat but protested as to why I wasn’t pulling one for her too. I did and she sat down to sip on the contents of the glass with her eyes fixed on me. It felt weird for I had said nothing much but already we looked like all the other pairs in the hall. “Peggy,” she said and raised her head to look at me, I thought it was a Q to have me saying mine too, “TC,” I said. She protested for a name and I told her BRANDON, more protest for a Shona one, “TAFARA.” We wasted the night away getting to know each other, something I thought was unnecessary because I wasn’t sure if I were to meet her again. Around 4, the sky was beginning to paint blue, the energy levels were then zeroing and surely one’s insomnia of their bed was sickening. With my girls, yes my girls, we made it out of Flipside with absolutely no problem. I had a huge task ahead of me, finding my way home. But these girls, these girls wouldn’t hear any of it. Less than 24 hours with them, we all at that time felt like we couldn’t survive without each other. Strange. ***
When I woke up, a grave silence greeted me, I looked for company, but there was none, I fell back on to the bed, hell, bed, how the lleh am I on a bed? A bright light tore through the corner of the curtain and shone on the wall closet in a room whose walls were crisp white. The door broke open and in entered a uniform dressed lady with a huge tray in her hands. “Breakfast SIR,” I nodded and she made her easy exit. I ate and recognised the bathroom on the other side of the room I was in. New white bathing towels were folded in model C fashion and I was to help myself to a bath. I walked out of the room, bewildered as a cockroach, I walked downstairs, into the lounge, kitchen and out of the house towards the garden, I had heard voices coming from there. “Taf what what, I think he’s awake now, let me go and check on him we should be leaving in an hour the procession should be starting in an hour and half. Wait, I have a plan.” Peggy said standing up. They had not seen me getting close to them until then. They both wore white morning gowns and honestly looked like money from a distance.
Insert 2 coming up
