In The Dawn - Cedric & Sarah

Chapter 2

The following day was me and my learners in class again. It was, even on this relatively bright day, dark and gloomy. Our first class was biology, then followed math and literature. During our literature class, we read our novel: Things We Call Freedom. As our normal routine, I summarized the chapter to them and I gave them a task to write and most of them passed. The lowest was 70% for which was a huge improvement given their previous test results from the previous teacher with which the highest was 60%. Being in a uni-racial school forced me to like people I shouldn’t be liking. It forced me to like white children. Despite their parents’ unrelatedly feelings towards my race, I could not pass the hatred to the offspring.
     Whilst busy marking scripts, Mr Owen came to my class and he spoke from the door.
     “Cedric, you are requested in the main office now.” He said with his rough voice that almost cracked windows. Owen was a senior grade 12 moderator. He was responsible for all the needs of all grade 12s. With me teaching grade 12, it meant that I was under his wing and it gave him a right to call me anytime he wanted even when I was busy with myself.
     “Okay Sir, I shall be there in a minute.” I said and I watched him disappear. I finished marking the remaining two scripts I was busy with and in less than five minutes, I headed to the main office.
     There, I found Mr Boerberg, the headmaster and the lady I didn’t know who was seated opposite him. The lady looked at me and I looked back at her surprised.
     “Take a seat.” he offered and I sat in an empty chair that was beside the woman. Mr Boerberg introduced her to me.
     “Sorry to interrupt you. Ahm…this is Sarah Scott... Sarah this is the teacher of your little sister Cedric Nnchumalo. (Nxumalo)” He said struggling to pronounce my last name.
Sarah and I exchanged a handshake and I drove my eyes back to Boerberg whose eyes were on me already.
     “Sarah is Isabell Scott’s big sister, one of your learner.” Said he, “She’s currently studying Law and she has been given an assignment to write a report about South African culture.”
     “Okay?” my face still confused.
     “She’s here to request your help regarding South African’s culture.” Mr Boerberg said. I paused for few seconds before I could say anything.
     “Okay, but you do realize I am not South Africa, right?” I said rudely.
     “I know that. But it’s best if she gets views from both sides, a white man and a black man, right Sarah?” he said looking at her for confirmation.
     “Yes sir.” Sarah answered instantly and Mr Boerberg turned his eyes back to me.
     “I still don’t know what you ask of me Sir. I’m not sure if I follow the request of Miss Scott here.”
     “It’s Mrs Lincoln.” Corrected she
     “Oh, I didn’t notice you are married.” I said as I took a clearer look at her finger and I saw a ring on it. She didn’t strike me as a marriage material girl, not that she was not good looking but because she seemed young. Twenty four years if not twenty five.
     “So how may I be of help Mrs Lincoln?” I asked with my eyes on her forehead.
     “I need you to help me with my research. I need to know about the culture of White people in South Africa and black people in South Africa.” Paused she, “I basically need to know how different races live in one country.” she added with a paper and pen in her hand.
   I drove my eyes to Boerberg. I still couldn’t comprehend my role in the school – whether I was a teacher or a researcher tutor. “Sir, I’m not sure if I’m here to teach children or help people with their research. You should’ve been more specific with me the first day I came here what my job would be. With all due respect, right now you are giving me a task I have zero interest in. Had I known it would come to this, I would not have accepted this job.” I said and continued, “I love my job and I don’t want anything else to distract me. If there’s nothing else, I’d like to be excused.” I said and I left the office, leaving Boerberg and his bitch together. She was a bitch because she thought she’d get everything she wanted just because she’s white. To hell with that. When I was miles away from the main office, I heard footsteps follow me. Sarah shouted my name from a twenty mile distance.
     “Cedric! Cedric! Please wait!” She continued to shout my name with her footsteps increasing the pace and I waited for her to catch my distance.
     “Look, you are not obligated to help me. This is just a request and you have a right to accept or reject, but before you answer - hear me out. What I ask from you is to lend me your time. I promise not to take much of it. I know you don’t feel a need to help me but think of it as helping your people raise their voices for their demands of peace and freedom. Words spoken lives for a moment but words written lives for a lifetime.” she said breathing heavily.
     “I am not the only black man in South Africa though, surely you can ask somebody else to help you. I am just too occupied with work to fit in your… your whatever.” I said.
     “I know you aren’t the only a black man in South Africa but you are different from them. You don’t think like them.” she said.
     “What do you know about me? What are you saying actually? Are you mocking me? Are you insulting my people?”
     “No Cedric, what I mean is I know nothing about them but I know something about you. You have been said to be smart and optimistic.” Said she.
     “You’ve only met me few minutes ago and all of a sudden you know me. What are you? Allah, Zeus or God like you always claim to be? If you think I’ll fall for your stupid trap, you’ll have to think again. And yeah, you are right about one thing, I am smart and Optimistic, meaning I’d be stupid to fall for your schemes, just as black people fell for your God.”
     “There’s absolutely no reason for you to mock me or God. I was not saying what I said in a bad way, but to answer your question, I knew about you before I got the chance to finally meet you.”
     “Wow, just like your said God, he knew us before we were formed in our mother’s womb. You are like him. Do you also have super-powers? Can you turn water into wine?” I mockingly asked.
     “No, I am nothing like God. It’s Isabell who told me about you. She told me how much she enjoys your lessons and how great your teachings are. She sings your praise. So I thought it would be best if I approach you so we may help one another.” she paused and continued, “So I beg you... Please help me. I will pay for your time if I have to.” she added.
     “And tell me, how is this going to help me?” I asked.
     “It’s you helping South Africa to stand at its toe. You will be helping a kid who’s hungry but never has food. You will be helping a child who wishes to be educated but never has that opportunity. You will be helping a mother who’s taking care of her five children alone. You will be helping fathers who are in exile reconnect with their families. You will be bringing hope to the hopeless. You will be bringing peace in this land of South Africa.”
     “How so?”
     “I will publish this story to my school press. In this way your demands shall be heard loud. My people do not take you serious if you protest by burning tyres. In order for your cries to reach their ears, you need to meet their standards – write your message down. That’s the reason I’m here, to help you. We are helping each other.”
    “Why are you doing this? What’s in it for you?”
    “Peace and freedom.” She replied.
     “But you are white.”
     “I want peace between us.” She replied.
I paused for a moment thinking of the decision to make. If I help her, it meant that I’m betraying my people’s trust by having a meal with an enemy (But what difference does it make though? I’m in their territory already). And if I don’t, she convinced me that I’ll be denying my people a chance to peace and freedom. I was caught between two worlds. I never wished to betray my people and I obviously wanted equal rights for them and this was my chance to help, so what am I to do? Do I agree to Sarah’s proposal to take a chance in bringing peace and be hated by my people or do I reject her offer and let our rights be oppressed? Whatever decision I take, it was going to be wrong, so I did what I thought to be best.
     “Okay, I will help you... Under one condition, no personal questions.”
She smiled and thanked me. She then handed me her business card. I took the business card and fed my eyes with it. The only information that was in her B.C were her name, surname and occupation for which she filled with student.
     “How about we start today so we may be done with it?” she suggested.
     “Sure, today is okay.” I agreed.
     “What time are you most available?”
     “Between 3pm and 6pm.” I said and put her business card in my pocket.
     “I hope your wife will not kill me for stealing you.” she smiled.
I smiled back and responded, “No personal questions.”
     “Okay sir.” She said while making that Queen-bowing-Gesture and she added, “See you today. I’ll come pick you up later.”
     “Okay sure.”
When she left, I returned to my class and to my surprise, I found Susan reading a novel to her classmates. The class was silent and peaceful. I stood at the door waiting for Susan to finish reading and when she paged through, I made my way to my desk.
     “You are doing a great thing Suzy.” I said and sat on my chair.
     “Where are you reading now?” I asked turning my chair to face her.
     “We are reading on page ninety-seven Sir.” replied Susan.
     “Wonderful. Tomorrow we’ll have a debate about Love and infatuation based on Carl’s parents. We need to know what caused the marital problems between them. Were they in love or it was just an infatuation that led to marriage. Go home and do your research. The topic will be ‘Can you spot a difference between Love and infatuation?’ The topic is simple and I expect everyone to participate.” I said and they shook their heads in agreement. We continued with our novel until the school bell rang.
   IT WAS BREAK time and as my usual routine, I went to Bab’Khumalo’s spot. I found him reading a newspaper and he closed it a second he saw me.
     “Why are you stopping in my presence?” I asked whilst sitting down.
     “I was pushing time while I wait for you. There’s nothing new here, it’s just yesterday’s headlines.”
     “Oh I see.”
     “They keep on repeating headlines telling us what we know already. We know Nelson Mandela was arrested so what’s the point of them repeating that. They making him look bad when we know he is not.” Bab’Khumalo said.
     “I wouldn’t know. A man’s true colour is hidden like his shame.”
He sighed and asked. “Where were we yesterday?”
     “We was sat here.” I replied pointing where we were seated. “Where else would we be if we are both not here?”
     “I meant with Pinkie Pinkie.”
     “Oh! You were there when Phiwe’s girlfriend died in the toilet and he ran away.” I reminded him.
     “She was not his girlfriend. She was the girl he loved; a crush.” He paused and continued, “I’m glad you still remember some parts of it. It means you were listening. Yesterday I asked you a question that if you were in Phiwe’s shoes, how would you have handled the situation? Would you have reported the incident or run away like he did?”
     “I would have reported the incident.” I said.
     “Why?”
     “Because it is the right thing to do and above all, Phiwe is not the one who killed her – if I am right.” I said.
     “It was only him who knew that. Do you think people would’ve believed him? Think about it, how would you explain to people that you saw a cabbage in your neighbour’s pot? Do you think it would have made sense to them? That you saw something undisclosed?” he asked.
     “Either way truth has its own way of coming out.” I said.
     “Don’t let those words fool you son. The only time the truth comes out, it’s only if you allow it to come out. Don’t you think there are still hidden truths that existed hundreds of years and they are still hidden from us? Truth doesn’t come out if you don’t allow it to. Especially in Phiwe’s case where there were no witnesses. It was him alone who knew.” he said and continued, “However, I like what Phiwe did.” he added.
     “Wait, are you telling me Phiwe’s story again? When we started you said you are telling me Pinkie Pinkie story but now all I hear is Phiwe this and Phiwe that.” I complained.
     “Be patient while I tell you the story. I have to tell you everything. When Phiwe left the crime scene, he went to class like nothing had happened. Although in his heart he knew he had done a malicious act but his judgment and decision were right. He did what was best for him at the time. His mind and concentration was absent from everything. He tried acting normal but the guilt inside him wouldn’t let him act strong. His face showed his emotions but nobody noticed since everyone was all focused on the teacher who was having the best time of her life in demonstrating the principles of life and universal attraction. In a blink of an eye, a learner discovered Karabo in the toilet and she screamed while heading to the master office. In another blink of an eye, everyone had gathered outside the toilet to see for themselves. Phiwe did not even bother going because he felt shame and anger for he knew what had happened and couldn’t do anything to help Karabo. Police and ambulance were called. After minutes of learners still gathered outside the toilet, the doctors and nurses made their way into the toilet and a minute later three police vehicles arrived and they chased every learner back to the classes. Some learners believed she had fainted but they were disappointed when the doctors announced Karabo death and that’s when the rest of them let their tears out.
     For Phiwe who was struggling with pain from the beginning of the day, he saw it as a chance to weep like nobody’s business. He had even more reason to cry because they were classmates and he had feelings for her. He looked at Karabo’s chair and there she was seated no more. He hoped to see her in her chair smiling, as she always did but fate disappointed him.
   KARABO’S PRESENCE filled the whole class with good vibes. When she was absent in class it was evident. She brought light with her freely personality and beauty. She made everyone feel special despite how they were treated outside. She had a way of making a person reach out to her whenever they had problems. She was just too perfect for this world.” Before Bab’Khumalo could go any further, I stopped him to ask few questions that were bothering me through the story.
     “If you say Phiwe and Karabo were classmates, how come no one noticed she was missing in class?”
     “Listen to understand not to question. They could have thought she went somewhere else.”
     “At least her friend should’ve noticed.” I said.
     “If you listen to the story, you will get all the answers you want. Don’t disturb me.” He protested.
     “Okay. But now I suspect Phiwe killed her.”
     “The next morning Phiwe forgot to set his alarm for school and as a result, he woke up late. Growing up he liked sketching pictures of his favourite pianist and singers. On the wall of his room, there was a picture of Sikelele Mlangeni, a saxophonist who rose to fame in 1900 and whom he adored. He sketched his pictures and framed them on the wall for a continuous inspiration. Seeing him on the wall gave him motivation to work harder towards his goals and dreams. Although the floor of his room was not pleasing but he made sure his walls remained artistic.”
     “Can we skip to the part where the story makes sense please?” I said irritated. To be honest, I was only interested in the Pinkie Pinkie part and not Phiwe’s. When he asked to tell me the Pinkie Pinkie story I never thought it would reach to a point where we only talk about Phiwe. I wanted the real story. The real Pinkie Pinkie story.
     “I have to go step-by-step. It’s either I tell you the whole story or I don’t tell you anything. Your choice.”
     “Okay go ahead with the story.” I said bored.
     “When Phiwe went to school the next day, Karabo’s death was still in everyone’s tongue. It was a mysterious death. Some people suspected a foul play. They thought someone did something to her and Phiwe believed so, too. It didn’t make sense to him. Nobody goes in the toilet to die, unless if something was done to her. If she was sick, she would’ve called for sick. She would have asked the teacher to excuse her and go to the hospital.
   SEEING HER seat empty, it evoked his emotions to a point where he lost concentration in class. Her best friend Kelebogile looked very sad. She and Karabo did everything together and one would swear they were sisters or blood related. They sat together. Ate together. Studied together and were always together. Phiwe could only imagine the pain she was going through. Losing someone you are dearest to have never been easy.
   When it was lunch, Phiwe was walking with his friend when Stiff (Steven), his schoolmate, pulled him aside. ‘I saw what you did’ Stiff said with a serious face. Phiwe shocked and nervous, he almost said it was a mistake but he thought; what is he talking about? And if he’s talking about Karabo, what if he doesn't have proof or he is bluffing? He then decided to mind-play him to check what he was really talking about.
     “What are you talking about Steven?” he asked looking at him in the point of his eye. Surprisingly, Stiff shook his head and walked away. When he left, another thought came to his mind; [What if he really knows everything that happened? What if he saw me leave the toilet on the day of Karabo’s death? What will happen if he tells the principal?] He questioned himself. This now became a nightmare to him. Things were about to change now that there was a third person in the picture.” Bab’Khumalo said and I interrupted him.
     “Let me guess, Stiff will report Phiwe to the police and he will go to a Sangoma and ask for superpowers so that he may escape going to jail. For a sacrifice, the Sangoma will demand him to have two private parts. Is that it?” I said in a mocking manner.
     “You’re a bad guesser.” he replied with his eyes playing around my forehead.
     “So… will I get to hear the part where Pinkie Pinkie existed and why it is believed to have two private parts? Because honestly, now I am bored.”
     “Of course you will. What’s the use of me telling you this story if I won’t tell you everything?”
     “Okay. Did Phiwe ever contemplated of suicide?” I asked.
     “Yes, several times but he couldn’t go ahead with it. The fear of killing a fly made his body shiver and imagine how he felt about killing his own-self?”
     “Alright. Understood. Carry on.”
     “As a result of pain, Phiwe wished he could give his problems to somebody else because he had enough of them. To make things simple for him, instead of going to the police to confess his truth, he decided to write it down on a paper. He wrote everything down including the smallest events that happened that day. He wrote what he was doing in the ladies toilet and how he discovered Karabo.
     When he was done writing the letter, he placed it inside a brown envelope and sealed it.
     Phiwe started drawing away from school. He developed zero interest in attending classes. He dragged his feet to school every morning and he saw no fault in his actions. I wouldn’t blame him though, you can’t run away from your misery if you are constantly reminded of it. Imagine the damage it caused him by seeing a place where he saw Karabo die.
   In honour of the late Karabo, her classmates decided to do something for her. They wrote her name on the chair that she used to sit on. This information also included her birth date and death date. On that chair no one was to sit. It was only reserved for her until her next life.” Bab’Khumalo was disturbed by a school bell which indicated the end of our lunch.
     “Our lunch is over. I hope next time you’ll jump to Pinkie Pinkie and not this Phiwe folk you keep telling me about.” I said.
     “Of course.” he responded.
I went back to my class and I found my learners up and down making noise. I yelled and they went quiet.