In The Dawn - Cedric & Sarah

Chapter 4

After stopping the debate, I continued with a conversation until the next bell rang for lunch. I packed my things and stuffed them inside the cupboard. I took my room keys and put them in my pocket and I made my way out. I went to my lunch spot at the gate and I found Bab’Khumalo absent. I sat down and after few moments I heard the sound of his footsteps approaching to my direction, slowly. When he finally made his way to my spot, he sat opposite me as usual. He greeted me and his hands made their way into the pocket. He took out a cigarette and lit it, and he looked at me with a smile.
     “Have you had fun yesterday?” he asked. Shockingly, I responded.
     “You mean?”
     “I saw you leaving with a white girl yesterday.” he said.
     “Where?” I asked, trying to play his mind.
     “I was stood here. You walked past me. You left in her black two-door car.”
I laughed a bit and responded. “Do you always see everything going on around here?” I asked smiling.
     “Yes. It’s my job to keep watch.” he paused and continued, “I didn’t think you’d want to give your heart to a white woman.”
     “My arse is what she’ll get, not my heart.” I said.
    “You seemed cosy though. Who is she and what’s going on between the two of you?” he asked interestedly.
Do I tell him what I was helping Sarah with? Or do I tell him a lies? How will Bab’Khumalo look at me when he learns that I’m selling black information to Sarah? Will that not make me a traitor? Will he still see the value in me? Will he still respect me? Will he still trust me? I thought to myself. To avoid being on his bad side, I thought of a better excuse. “Her little sister is in my class and she has asked me to help her... You know, with extra classes.” I said and continued, “She paid me well.” I added.
     “See Cedric, these people are not good kind to black people. Be careful when you deal with them. They will chew you and split you like a gum. Look at us now, they see nothing wrong with what they are doing to black people... Look,” he said pointing at my fellow two white teachers Mr Jacobs and Mr Andrews who were sitting under the tree laughing. “Do you see any remorse or regret on their faces?” he asked and I nodded.  “This should tell you that the only people they care for it’s their kind, not you. With that woman, be careful. You might find yourself in a situation you won’t see a way out. There’s nothing sad as seeing your fellow black man going for a trap that you know he won’t see a way out.” he added.
His words reminded me of the things Sarah said to me. Sarah set the picture clear that she hates black people. It saddened me that I almost sold my people to her. I almost believed her. I almost believed she had pure intentions for helping us.
     “You are right. I will stop helping her.” I said.
Not that I had a choice. She told me off.
     “I’m not saying stop helping her, all I’m saying is be careful. We are here now in their territory protecting and teaching their children. A gratified black man wouldn’t have agreed to do what we are doing. Just because I’m here doesn’t mean I like them. I hate these people. I barely tolerate their presence. Their sight make me sick. I wish there was anywhere else to go but here. My soul is not at peace here. They have destroyed my heart. But what we should be both grateful for is that we have jobs that feed us. After all, better work for an enemy than rise in debts.” He said.
     “Why can’t you leave this place and start over somewhere?” I asked him. (Why can’t I leave this place and start over somewhere too?)
     “I can’t go back. I’d rather be here. As much as there’s no peace for me here, but it is better than where I come from.” he said.
     “What is that mean?” I asked.
    “Let us continue with our story.” he said ditching my question.
I saw sadness and pain in his eyes when he spoke. It was that moment that I realized again I knew nothing about Bab’Khumalo. The only thing I knew about him was his wife and second born daughter which he lost in a fire disaster. His last born daughter was adopted and his first born son died. I made every conversation we had all about me and didn’t even care to know his name. A simple name. Am I that egocentric that I make every conversation about me? Perhaps Sarah was right about me, I am a selfish bastard who only cares for himself. What other things do I know about the world beside myself? Am I too proud to know about other people? Is a world without me a loss? Will the world has its loss when I die? Who am I to begin with? What have I done for the world that they will remember for? I asked myself.
   No, Sarah is lying. I am a good man. I may have sold my mom to white people but I did it for her. I know if I work hard, in a period of two to three years, I’ll buy her freedom back. I will buy her a house that she’ll be proud to call it hers. She will not have to work again if I, her son is making enough money.
   Perhaps that’s one good thing I can do for her after having to sell her freedom to people who might murder her at any day. I drove my mind back to reality.
     “I just realized that you’ve never said anything about yourself. We’ve been together for weeks now and you’ve never said anything about your relatives. Do you have any?” I asked.
He paused for a moment having his time of thoughts.
     “My life is not something you should wish to know about. It is filled with tragedy and it should be something for another day, not today.” He paused and continued “We still have time.” he added.
     “Okay, at least answer me this one question. Did you take a second wife after your first wife died?”
     “No. I remain single.” he answered.
     “I’m sorry to hear that.” I said and continued, “What happened to your wife? How did the fire get to her and your daughter?” I asked trying to understand how the fire started. [Was she cooking and the fired torched something around and burnt her? Was she tired of life that she torched herself and daughter?] I needed to understand.
     “I cannot tell you about my wife’s death without disappearing into a bottle of tears. All I can tell you is that my wife was someone who made my life complete. She just had a way to make me happy until one day she decided to change. She turned against me and I started questioning my presence in her life.
   This then affected my duties in the house and it blinded my responsibilities as a man. There was more none happiness in the house. She turned my kids against me. She fed them lies. She started doing as it pleased to her wishes.” he said and continued, “I cannot lie though, she made me happy, especially in her last days before her death. We had sorted our differences. She made me realize that I do not live for myself, but I live for her and my children. I even stopped drinking and we lived happy until death knocked on our doors.” He paused and continued, “Enough about my sob stories... Where were we in Pinkie Pinkie?” Bab’Khumalo asked with his eyes on me.
     “I don’t mind hearing about your life.”
     “Have we reached a part where things got intense between Phiwe and Karabo’s friend?” he asked trying by any means to avoid talking about his personal life.
     “No, I think we were in a part where his friend Stiff threatened to report him.” I said.
     “Steven was not his friend but his schoolmate.” said Bab’Khumalo.
     “Oh. So what happened between Phiwe and Karabo’s friend?” I asked.
     “Months passed and everything was slowly going back to normal except in Phiwe’s side. He still had it in his mind that there was a foul play involved in Karabo’s death, or at least he believed so. Some students believed it was depression and anxiety while some believed it was her time to vanish from the face of the earth. With so much mystery in her death, Phiwe thought it was best if he conduct his own investigation, and who was the better person to ask other than Karabo’s close friend Kelebogile? What if Kelebogile knew something? What if Karabo said something to her? Thought Phiwe during a lesson in class. When the teacher was busy teaching, Phiwe’s mind ran series of thoughts about Karabo’s death. His mind was absent in class. Remember that Phiwe had written a letter where he explained all events happened on the passing of Karabo and he needed to gather all facts and additional information before sending the letter to the police.
   When it was after school, Phiwe left the class and waited for Kelebogile outside so he could ask questions. It was on a Tuesday and it was her group’s turn to sweep the class and when she was done, she left the class and Phiwe followed her. Hey, Phiwe greeted. Kelebogile jumped back and she went quiet for seconds. She looked at Phiwe with a confused and shocked look before she could greet back. Phiwe first paused before he asked how she is.
   I am barely fine, she responded in a gloomy look. Phiwe felt people’s eyes on his shoulders. He felt the weight of looks upon his shadows and he asked Kelebogile to join him for a drink. It is something he was not there for. He just wanted to ask few things about Karabo but nerves got to him and he ended up asking her for a drink. I’ll think about it, Kelebogile responded and she left him standing alone.” Bab’Khumalo spoke and I paused him.
     “Your story is quite foreseeable. I already know in my mind what will transpire next.” I said.
     “What is to happen?” he asked.
     “Kelebogile and Phiwe will date or there will be some kind of entanglement between them, if not lovers then great friends.” I shared my view.
     “I’ll give you a medal for that. However it’s not always the case that you may be right.” he said and continued, “A good beginning makes a good ending, isn’t it?” he added.
     “Will they ever date? Correct my assumptions.” I asked.
     “Do not be like fool that asks more questions in an hour than he should. Give a man a chance to speak and you shall understand the words between his tongue. Do not be quick to ask.” he said.
     “Okay, I shall give you a chance to shower me with your… your myth, I guess.” I said.
     “When Phiwe went back to his home, he found his mom cooking and his dad reading a newspaper. There was too much tension between his parents and he made his way to his room instead of joining his father in the seating room. Seeing his mom and dad growing apart never sat well with him. He locked himself in his room and stayed there for minutes doing nothing other than staring at the painted walls. Phiwe’s mom knocked to give him a letter and she rolled it inside.
   It's from your friend! She shouted behind the door. Phiwe reached for the letter and opened it. He read the letter and after reading, he placed it in safety. The letter was from his friend Patrick. They both met in standard three and they became friends in standard six. Phiwe never saw their friendship solid as to. They shared nothing in common. He’d rather label their so-called union as two people who grew together than it as friendship. Though Patrick saw Phiwe as his best friend. In the letter, Patrick wrote that Phiwe is to meet him at his place in an hour. It was urgent.” Bab’Khumalo said and he changed his seat.
     “If you plan to tell me the whole Phiwe’s story, you should at least tell me his past, because now the story sounds ridiculous if I don’t know his background.” I said to Bab’Khumalo.
     “Of course. Phiwe was his first name and David was his second name he hated. He was the first of three. Phiwe loved spending most of his time alone, even though he had company of social friends. He was a troubled child. That’s all you should know about him for now.” he said.
     “Okay. You may proceed from where he gets the letter from Patrick.” I said.
     “Ok, May you pass me that bottle of water.” he asked pointing at the bottle that was lying on my right side. I stretched my arm to the bottle and handed it to him.
     “Thank you.” he said. He wet his throat and handed back the bottle.
     “The next day at school, Kelebogile tapped him on the shoulders. He was with his school friend (Jonas) whom he used to smoke with. It was the morning before classes. After the incident that happened with Karabo, Phiwe stopped smoking. He hadn’t smoked in ages and he, himself did not pay attention to it. He only realized it when Jonas torched a cigarette in front of him and Kelebogile when they were together. Kelebogile had seen Jonas smoke before so it was no shock to her but Phiwe wished him to leave, giving He and Kelebogile some privacy. Do you still wish to have a coffee with me? She asked Phiwe who was still admiring her beautiful eyes. She had pure white eyes with dark brown pupil. Phiwe’s eyes moved from her eyes to her mouth. She had colored her lips pink. Her lips looked juicy. She had a bright beautiful skin that you’d wish to look at every morning before you go to work or school. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her beauty closer to his eye. One would swear she was not born of a human.” Bab’Khumalo said and I interrupted him.
     “So between Karabo and Kelebogile, who was more beautiful?” I asked.
     “That I cannot answer. They were both beautiful in the eyes of Him who admirers. A man may have a different eye for them both. Beauty is different. Every woman is beautiful, but she’s more beautiful in the eyes of a man who sees value in her.” He said and continued, “When Phiwe’s mind came back to reality, Kelebogile was still there waiting for a reply. He waited no more and he confirmed his request to have a coffee together.
   They agreed to meet the next day at St. John’s Inn at 07:30am. They planned to skip a day of school so they may have all the time they need. When the school bell rang for 14th time, it was after school and Phiwe walked to his home with his friend Patrick. They parted ways when Phiwe was twenty miles away to his home. From twenty miles away, he saw his mom putting bags in her car. He walked closer and his mom was burning in anger. Before he could utter a word, his mom started the car and drove away. Phiwe entered the house and to his greatest surprise, he saw his father watching TV like nothing was happening. He asked him what was going on but he kept his mouth shut. He repeated the question and again his father kept shut.
     He knew his parents’ relationship was never healthy but he never thought it would be this soon. Phiwe rushed to his room and there he found his siblings emptying their tears on his bed. He asked them what was happening and they just handed him a letter that his mother had written. It read;
My children, I don't know what’s bothering your father. He seemed different. Today when we were having lunch together, I asked him to pass me a cup. Instead of passing me a cup, his eyes chocked on my face for about a minute and he asked me who I am. He told me I was a witch and I am the reason he doesn't get promotion at work. He also mentioned that I am slut. I know I shouldn't be saying all of this to you but this breaks my heart, my children. This is the reason why I left in a sudden. Do not worry about me, I'll be at my sister’s. I shall come get you when I'm well settled. Take care.
   After reading the letter, Phiwe fumed in anger and he made his way to the room where his father was seated. He knew in him that he stood no chance in fighting him but he took the chance to fight him anyway but with a knife in his hand. When his hand that had a knife made its way to his father’s head, he quickly grabbed it and pushed him away too hard and he fell and hit the floor with his head. His dad’s face changed. The anger in him grew. Phiwe was shaking nervously on the floor with little blood coming out. He froze. When Phiwe was still lying down, his father said to him, Things are not as how you always see them to be Phiwe. What you know is not always the truth. After saying these words, he left the room, leaving Phiwe and his siblings who got out of the room after they heard Phiwe fall. Phiwe was left questioning his almost vilest action.”
     “Was he going to stab him had the knife slipped through his father’s hand?” I asked curiously.
     “That I don’t doubt.” he replied.
While we were still talking, Sarah parked her car where we could see her. Bab’Khumalo could not help but comment.
     “Your lady is here.”
     “She’s not my lady.” I replied annoyed to his comment.
Sarah got out of her car and she walked to us. I watched her take her steps and in my mind I was seeing my mood spoiler. I was not in a mood to speak to her after she threw insults at me. My heart was still in pain and the only way to heal was to forget about her. I was doing just fine until she decided to make her sight seen. When she got to our spot, she stood in front of me. My head rolled up and I saw her new make-up. She looked beautiful in her new make-up but she would look more beautiful if she had not insulted me.
     “Hello. Might I speak to Cedric alone.” She requested.
     “I am busy, can’t you see.” I said.
     “You don’t look busy to me, do you?”
     “How am I not busy to you when I am?” I said in an angrily tone.
Bab’Khumalo poured water into our conversation, stopping the fire between me and Evil-Sarah.
     “Go speak to her. She won’t leave until she speaks to you and I don’t want both of you to disturb everyone else who is at peace.” he said looking at me, “You shall find me here when you return. I do not wish to go anywhere.” he added.
   I looked at Sarah with anger and I remembered that I had a lot to say to her. She moved ten steps away from us and I followed her.
     “What more of me do you wish to have?” I asked rudely.
     “Nothing. I am here to give what I have taken from you – your pride. I am here to apologize for what I have said, Ced.” she said.
     “What for exactly? For insulting my mother? Or what, for insulting my people?”
     “I’m not here to fight with you. I am only here to apologize.” she said softly.
     “Next time you consider apologizing to someone, you should humble yourself. Do not act bossy in a process of apologizing.”
     “Do you wish me to kneel so you may see how sorry I am?” She asked mockingly.
     “You’re far worse than I thought.”
     “You know what, self-pity does not suit you. Right now you are acting childish. I only came here to make things right. I came here to apologize for my unjust words I said to you. It was very foolish and I admit.” She apologized.
     “Childish? Childish...? Oh, listen to you. Having white privilege does not give you a right to disrespect me. You are...”
     “…I am what?” she said interrupting me.
     “You will be silent!” I said in a loud tone. Bab’Khumalo looked at me in shock and I cared less what he thought, “You are to be silent when I speak. Your apology will not make any difference. You have taken everything from me. You do not treat me with respect. Right now you say you came here to apologize and yet you don’t look sorry to me. You people are ungrateful. I was only trying to help you and what thanks did I get – Insults. We gave you South Africa but you still treat us no better than dogs. Your dogs’ eat no better than us.”
     “You did not give us South Africa, we took it from you because you have no better use for it.”
     “What use have you given it?”
     “Look around you. South Africa is no longer a squatter camp it used to be under your leadership. Admit it, South Africa is more presentable than before.”
     “You are the only people benefiting kuyafana.”
     “Yes, because you don’t want to work with us.”
     “We were doing just fine without any of those. We were happy before you came. Actually, what amount of disrespect is this, that you come from nowhere and harass the owner of the land? You are tenants harassing the landlord. Don’t you feel guilty?”
     “I cannot speak for every white person but personally, I do feel guilty for what my people have done to your people. I know I speak for some when I say the land of your people has become a home to us. This is where we belong now. Our roots and souls belong here now. We can be enemies and suffer or we can unite and live peacefully. I do not see color when I look at you but a man. I see a strong man who carries faith in him. I understand your anger against my people but you cannot label us all the same. If one member of your family is a prostitute, does that make everyone in your family a prostitute? No it doesn’t. Amongst my people, there are good ones and bad ones. My kind is selfish I know but you cannot use violence to cool this problem we have. Instead of violence, let’s rather use words to solve it. Violence will only stir things up. Love is stronger than hate. Love can drive out fear and hate. I do not treat black people bad. I see them as the landlord of my dreams. I am here in this country because you once cared for it. I am here because of your kindness. You opened doors for us through ancient times. You gave us land to dwell on. You gave us a home. I know some of my people may have taken the advantage of your kindness but not everyone is like them. If you cannot feel for them, then feel for us. I was born on this land and this is where I belong. It’s a land of black people that gave birth to white people. My forefathers are buried in this soils. They live in this soil. We cannot give back the time you’ve lost, but surely, I believe you don’t want to lose more time by busy fighting when we can resolve this with just words. Right now you are creating generations that will feel pity and blame everything on us when we can work together. You are building generations that will enslave their own minds. I see...” before Sarah could finish her sentence, the school bell rang and it was an indication that all employees must return to work. Sarah looked at me with a serious face that portrayed humbleness and yet with pride.
     “Bad deeds done past must have no excuse to deny you a chance for peace and freedom.” she said and continued, “I beg you to give me a chance to try and make things right. Together we can try to bring the change we both want for a better South Africa. Unity begins with us.” she said and pushed her arm forward offering a handshake “To a new start.”
     I first hesitated anticipating on my action. As much as she insulted me but let’s face it, she had a point. This was again to prove to her that everything I do is for the benefit of my people not my selfish reasons as she said. Sarah was good with her tongue that she convinced me helping her with her research was a good idea. Don’t blame me for falling for her sweet words. Her words were as juicy as her lips. Her beautiful innocent face added strength to her words. I pushed my arm to hers and we shook hands. Her hand was soft and gentle. The weather was burning hot but I felt the cool of her hand.
     “Apology received.” I said and she half smiled and I just moved my lips.
     “May I fetch you after school so we may continue with our research?” She asked.
     “Sure.”
She pulled out her hand and left. I watched her start her car and drive off. I was there wondering who that woman was. Is she that arrogant to insult a person and make demands afterwards? She did not ask for my forgiveness. She demanded it. If she think I’m that stupid to let her get away with insulting me, she has another thing coming to her. I am Cedric Ongahlulwa Nxumalo. I am the son of Senzokuhle ka-Ongahlulwa Nxumalo. I will not let another person play on top of my head, a white woman for that matter who believes everything is about her. They may have stolen the land of my forefathers but I cannot let them steal my life. This is my life and I decide for it. No white woman will use me. No white God will tell me what is right and what is not. I am god. I am the creator of my own destiny. I make rules and bend them.
     “Let’s see to it that we continue tomorrow.” said Bab’Khumalo from a distance while I watched Sarah’s car fade into the thin air.