Tears of the San By: Elijah Mwashayenyi ... - WSIC EBooks

Tears of the San

By: Elijah Mwashayenyi

Published by WSIC EBooks Ltd.

Copyright September 27, 2012 by WSIC Ebooks Ltd.

WSIC EBooks Ltd. Edition

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Chapter One

When a Leopard Strikes

Mma Mabaki sat on her horse as she contemplated the day ahead. The horse, a
brown mare of four years of age, was walking slowly towards the saltpan. It was going
to be another long hot day. It was mid-morning but the sun was already blazing its full
fury out of the pitiless sky onto a helpless land. The land was dry, about as dry it could
ever be. It was still October and Mma Mabaki did not expect any meaningful rains until
January. Out here in the Kgalagadi, outside winter, heat was the order of the day. Mma
Mabaki has seen it all but as it gave a repeat performance on a daily basis she could not
help it but think that she would never really be comfortable in the heat. In fact no one
could ever be comfortable in this heat. It was as if the sun was always getting closer
and closer to the earth. Maybe it was what her granddaughter Malebogo was talking
about the other day when she said something about global warming. Mma Mabaki
could not quite get the globe bit. All she knew was that the Kgalagadi seemed warmer
than in previous years.

Malebogo had talked about heat, rain, drought and cold but Mma Mabaki had
failed to understand how the cold and rain came into it. No, they had nothing to do with
warming. If the earth was warming up, heat and drought would obviously be the results.
She shook her head and smiled as she thought about her granddaughter. That smile
revealed her dental formula that was prematurely teetering towards fifty percent. These
young children and their education; they were getting quite mad. She smiled further as
she remembered more of her granddaughter’s stories. The other day she had said the
earth was round and was rotating. Well, she was an elderly woman but that made her
old enough to know that the earth was flat. Of course, there were some hills here and
there but there was no way any sane person could call them round. How come people
were not falling or feeling dizzy if indeed the land was round and rotating. What about
the story of the sun not moving? This girl could spin a yarn. Mma Mabaki saw it
moving every day from the east to the west. Even Malebogo did. How could she refuse

something she saw everyday? Again she shook her head. She wondered what had got
into her granddaughter. Even if that was taught in school, she did not have to believe it.
She had taught her children and grandchildren never to believe anything unless they
thought it was true. The girl was too young to smoke. If she had been older then Mma
Mabaki would think that she must have been smoking some serious stuff. Or maybe
one of these days she must go to her granddaughter’s school and teach both children
and teachers about the earth, life and everything else as she knew it. Yes, maybe she
would take a rest from her duties at the cattle post. At her age she needed rest more
often. During her youthful days she could work everyday without complaining but now
her body could no longer take sustained stress.

Mma Mabaki knew that she was getting old. She did not know when she was
born. All she knew was that when she was young she lived in the bush, not like
nowadays when she was either at the cattle post, at the crop field or in the village.
Malebogo had told her that her identity card indicated that she was born in 1957. That
was just a number. She had not told the registration officer her age as she did not know
it. Her mother had told her that she was born during the year when the elephants passed
through their area. It was a rare sight to see elephants in her part of the Kgalagadi. No
one knew where they came from and no one knew where they went but that’s beside
the point. Suffice to say that the registration officer looked at her and just wrote a
number down. She did not mind. They could give her any age they wanted but that did
not affect her for as long as it did not affect her share of rations and the monthly cheque
she got at the post office in her old age.

What Mma Mabaki cared about was what she had almost lost for good many
years before, her name; Nxisa. Yes, she still had it but no one else used it except her
close friends and age mates. Mabaki was not her original name. Even her surname was
not original. Her real surname was Xixau and not Kurudane as the identity card
suggested. When she mentioned her name and surname to the registration officer he
said he could not write it. She thought education was about writing and speaking other
languages. How come he could not write her name? He ended up writing what he
wanted to write. It was only later that Nxuru’s son told her that she was now called
Mabaki Kurudane. Everyone called her Mma Mabaki these days, preferring to use her
first given name. They had even changed the names of her children when they went to
school. As she thought about this name issue she wished the event had happened in her
old age. Then she had been taught to fight for her rights and she now knew how to
fight. She liked fighting especially after downing a few cups of the home brew. If it was
now no one would mess with her or her names. That officer would have found a way of
writing it even if it meant asking the Chief to write for him. But that was now water
under the bridge.

She crossed the now dry saltpan and proceeded into the thorn bushes and trees
beyond. From last evening’s count and this morning’s confirmation, the newly born
calf was missing. She initially thought of sending the two young herd boys, who had
started work six months earlier, to look for the calf but thought better of it. May be this
would need serious tracking and when it came to following a spoor, no one knew better
than Mma Mabaki. Even the men on neighbouring farms called her in when they
wanted something found fast. The young men just pointed the direction of where they
had last seen the calf and the old lady promised to solve the issue that morning.

She secured her long whip and her hunting kit on the saddle and took off. The
hunting kit comprised of a bow, a quiver full of arrows, a small axe and a big knife.
Mma Mabaki was a skilful hunter, something she had learned during her bush days. Of
course the men did hunting during those days and when she took up hunting she was

often ridiculed by her parents and other people for “trying to be a man”. It was a skill
she put to good use when she started working on the farms. For many years she was a
herd girl. Even when she got married, she would go back to working as a herd girl
when there wasn’t enough money in the home. Now she did it less and less frequently
due to her age. In addition, life in Kang Village was more fun than at the cattle post.
There was the backyard drinking points with lots of friends. There were the jukeboxes
in the more expensive beer halls. Sometimes she just went in to dance during the day.
There were also the occasional traditional dances they performed in Gamonyemana
Ward. It was a life worth living. It was only that she needed the money for her big
family. Even the married sons and daughters relied on her for some of their supplies.
They were a sharing people and so whatever they got, they shared. What her husband
brought from his casual jobs was not enough to sustain the family. These days he would
say he was too old to herd cattle. The government supplies were also not enough to go
round as they were also shared with her children and grand children. So at the age of
fifty-five, according to the identity card, she still found herself going back to the lands
to herd cattle for the Bakgalagadi. Sometimes she was paid in cash. At other times she
was paid in kind. She liked the cash but when getting paid in kind sometimes meant she
was given goats or cattle. She normally slaughtered the goats for food but over the
years she had accumulated thirty head of cattle, which she kept on her friend’s farm.
One of these days she would need to acquire her own farm, she thought. Anyway, she
would think about this when she was back to Kang.

Yes, she also needed to go back and check on her youngest daughter who had
dropped out of Form Two some five years earlier after she fell pregnant. She had
given birth to a baby boy who had died at two months old. They had buried her in
their house as per their custom. They believed that burying a baby in the house invited
more children in future and burying outside would result in barrenness. Soon after the
mourning period, her daughter went back into circulation. Mma Mabaki wished her
daughter would find someone to marry her but she would hear nothing of it. She said
she was too young to marry and wanted to enjoy life to the fullest before she decided
to settle down for anything serious. That was not the only thing worrying Mma
Mabaki. For the past year her daughter had been in and out of hospital several times.
No one seemed to know exactly what she was suffering from. The cough she had
pointed to TB. May be she was allergic to the smoking she had copied from her; Mma
Mabaki tried to encourage herself, but soon discarded the idea. She was beginning to
suspect something more serious. She had seen enough victims of HIV/AIDS and had
come across enough messages from the clinic and support groups to be realistic. Her
daughter had flatly refused to be tested, saying that HIV/AIDS was a myth. Even
when medical staff advised her to be tested she said that when medical people failed
to diagnose something they just said it was AIDS. After all her witchdoctor had
pointed the finger at one of their neighbours whom he said was jealous of her
progress. If only she would agree to be tested. If only she would listen to her and the
medical staff. These days they had a medicine called ARV that gave AIDS victims
long life. Qegu’s son had refused ARVs and his condition was deteriorating. XaXau’s
daughter was on ARVs and the way she was growing fat you would never think she
had the disease. May be she needed to ask the Skillshare Development Worker to
persuade her or may be she needed to take the matter to the Chief. Her daughter had
always been stubborn. Maybe she took after her. For Mma Mabaki, stubbornness had
served her well in a harsh world. For Kelebogile stubbornness was something that
would take her to an early grave. She felt tears welling up in her eyes as she thought
of the possibility of losing her. She had already lost one daughter and it had been a

painful time for her and her family. The thought of losing another one was
unthinkable. She quickly wiped away the tears and told herself that it was time to be
brave.

Two kilometres after the saltpan she picked up the spoor of the calf she was
looking for. From the spoor she could tell the calf was lost and the animal seemed to
know it. She followed it for another six kilometres or so and suddenly stopped. Right in
front of her was disturbed ground and a few drops of blood in the sand. It was as if two
animals had fought a one sided battle. She looked closely at the sand and picked up
prints that could only belong to a leopard. There was a trail that that went for some fifty
or so metres from the scene. It was as if the leopard had dragged the calf to a safe place
for eating. From what she knew about leopards, it must be up a tree somewhere.
Leopards often lost their prey to stronger carnivores like lions or hyenas. So they had
learned a trick that ensured security of their prize; taking the kill up a tree.

She saw the leopard before the horse did. It was as well that she did because
the horse might have been spooked and thrown her out of the saddle. The leopard was
lying on a tree branch with half of the dead calf nearby. Mma Mabaki contemplated
letting sleeping leopards lie. After all, the calf was already dead. Tangling with a
leopard would not bring it back. However, she quickly thought better of the idea. The
warrior in her told her that a score needed to be settled. The other reality was that
once this animal got used to easy prey, it would strike again. The old lady also knew
one other thing about leopards. They never picked up a fight unless they had to. The
spotted animal was quite content with running away or hiding if there was any kind of
threat. She knew that there were only two kinds of dangerous leopards; one that was
cornered and a leopardess with cubs had been taken by somebody. Of course she did
not understand why anyone would want to take leopard cubs but that was beside the
point. There was also one thing that irritated her more than anything else. Whenever
she was given responsibility for a herd of cattle or even goats, she took care of it as if
it was her own. No one or nothing could steal from her and get away with it. It did not
matter whether you were a human being or a leopard. Once you crossed her path,
punishment would come your way. The leopard had crossed a line and hence its fate
was sealed.

It is not clear whether the leopard saw the woman early enough to disappear or
it did not at all. May be it was sleeping or may be it did not feel threatened in such a
high tree. All the same, when it eventually acknowledged the presence of a human
being, it was too late. Mma Mabaki quickly climbed down from her horse and
tethered it to a nearby small tree. She took her arsenal from the saddle and quickly put
an arrow on the bow. She started walking slowly towards the tree, using thorn bushes
as cover. Still the leopard remained in position, not giving a sign of having seen or
heard anything. Just as she was some thirty metres away from the tree her horse
neighed. It was a high-pitched sound that showed the fear in the animal. She was sure
it had seen the leopard. The horse started stamping the ground. If she had not tethered
it to the tree she was sure it would have bolted.

The leopard suddenly became very alert and saw the horse and the old woman.
It snarled as it realised that the person was coming for it. The snarling did not faze
Mma Mabaki. She had killed a few leopards in her lifetime and this one would be no
exception. Of course she was no longer as sharp as she used to be. Her hands were
slightly shaky due to the drinking and smoking she often did. Her sight was no longer
as sharp as it used to be either but it was still good especially for her age. If there was
one thing that was sharp with her, it was her brain. She could outwit any animal or
any human being for that matter, even people much younger than her. She was an

experienced old bushwhacker and there was no substitute for experience. The leopard

was just about to find out how experienced she was.

----------

The two young herd boys were locked in conversation.
“Boinelo, did you register with the Botswana College of Distance and Open
Learning (BOCODOL)?” Qamoke asked.
“No,” Boinelo replied. I am not in the habit of going back to what I left. Don’t
tell me that you listened to Mma Mabaki,” he added.
“But education is good for your. Mma Mabaki is right. We are wasting our lives
in this wilderness herding people’s cattle. Look at your sister. She is already a teacher
at the preschool. Don’t you want to be a teacher as well? I know I do.”
“Qamoke, let me tell you something. There are people who were born to be
teachers and there are those who were born to be herd boys. We are the herd boys.”
“Look man, we are only eighteen years old and there is so much we can do
before we get to be old men. I know I don’t want to herd cattle for the rest of my life.
Do you?” Qamoke sounded serious about his ambitions.

“I have no problem with cattle.” Boinelo was not interested in the subject.
“That is not what I said. I love cattle but I would like some of my own. If only

our Trust would have a cattle scheme. The goat scheme went well but the food

security program needs to be raised to another level. I surely want to do something

that will give me enough money to buy cattle so that I can have my own herd. Look at

all the Batswana who have gone to school. They drive nice cars, they have good
houses and they have many cattle. We even work for them.” Qamoke was being very

persuasive.
“Frankly, me and school don’t seem to mix very well. We are like water and

petrol. I was glad when we finished Standard Seven three years ago. My grades were
always low. You know it was a miracle for me to get a D.” Boinelo was telling the

truth. In all fairness he should have done worse.
“I know. But the main reason for that is we played too much. How many times

did we abscond from school? If we had been serious I would have even improved on
my grade C.”

“That was three years ago and we are so rusty now that thinking about books

gives me the creeps. Having to study for all those subjects is something that does not
appeal to me.”

“I hear you, but the good thing about BOCODOL is that it is non-formal

learning and you get to choose the number of subjects you can manage per year. Look,
if you want to do one or two or three subjects at a time, it is up to you.”

“And you think we can read in between herding cattle? Do you want them to get

lost? We even lost a calf while were not studying. I see ourselves losing a whole herd if
we start studying.”

“It is when we start studying and not if. I am serious about this Boinelo. I

registered last week when I went to the village. I mean to persuade you to do the same
so that I can have a studying partner.”

“You sound very optimistic about this. I am sceptical about our chances or more
correctly, my chances.”

“I am determined to do it. I believe you should as well. I don’t want to end up

having to ask you to be my herd boy when I succeed, make money and have my own
cattle,” Qamoke tried a touch of humour.

“I won’t work for you even if you were the last employer in the Kgalagadi,”

Boinelo said, this time smiling.
“If you don’t join me in studying you will have no choice.”
“Maybe I can do three subjects per year and manage.” Boinelo was starting to

develop interest.
“Fine, I am also doing three.”
“Who will pay for this schooling you are talking about? Books and teachers cost

money.”
“There is a scholarship fund that has come from America. I talked to our Trust

secretary and she said they would pay everything for us. Are you in?” Qamoke seized

the advantage.
“Yes, let us try it. Boinelo and Qamoke starting Form one! We will be talk of

Gamonyemana Ward. But you will help me with assignments.”
“We will assist each other.”
“Good, I like that.”
“It is settled then, I will accompany you to BOCODOL next week to register.

We will start next year.”
“Let us do that, may be we will get out of this cattle herding business sooner

than we think.”
“By the way, what do you think happened to the calf?” Qamoke changed the

subject.
“May be after getting lost it ran into some wild animals like jackals or hyenas,”

Boinelo replied. “I don’t see it surviving the whole night all alone in the bush. You

know there are many jackals, quite a few hyenas and the occasional leopard in this neck
of woods,” he added.

“So you think Mma Mabaki’s trip is useless?” Qamoke asked.
“Not really. All I am saying is that she won’t find it alive but she will establish
what happened to it,” Boinelo replied.
“And you thing she will establish that?” Qamoke asked again.

“That cannot be a serious question. She is one of the best trackers in the

business. She will establish the fate of the calf all right. When I got this job and I told
my old man that we will be working with Mma Mabaki, you know what he told me?”
There was an expression on Boinelo’s face that indicated he knew what he was

talking about.
“No, but you are going to tell me.”
“He said if we listened to her, we will know anything we need to know about

cattle and the bush.”
“So may be we should have gone with her. She is also an old woman now. If

she runs into trouble she might not be able to handle it,” Qamoke sounded a bit

worried.
“You obviously have not heard about Mma Mabaki,” Boinelo said smiling. “I

will not give you the details now because I want to pick up one or two things before we

follow her and we are only following her to learn from her. Suffice to say that Mma
Mabaki does not run into trouble, it is trouble which runs away from her,” he added

smiling broadly.

----------

This time around, trouble did not seem to be interested in running away from

Mma Mabaki. The carnivore looked like it was of two minds. It was snarling alright but

it was also checking its bearings, as if looking for an escape route. The person was
closing in fast and coming down the tree did not appear to be an option. Now it was in a
sitting position with head held low to give its deadly stare to the human being. His chest
and head were fully exposed. If the leopard had made a dash for it, perhaps it might
have made it. If it had taken the battle to the old lady, may be it would have had a
chance, may be. It did neither and that was a fatal mistake.

Mma Mabaki got into shooting range and aimed her bow and arrow upwards
towards the chest of the leopard. The animal continued to snarl. She held her breath to
make the aim steady. She then released the arrow with a whoosh that sounded the death
sentence for the leopard. She only released her breath when the steel-tipped and guinea
fowl feather-tailed arrow found its mark. The arrow struck straight through the heart.
The animal pitched forward growling but his sharp claws held on to the tree branch so
that it did not fall just yet. It tried to climb back onto the branch but the pain in its heart
made the effort a non-starter. It bit the arrow and broke it into two. Unfortunately for
the leopard, the part that had gone into its chest remained where it was. The old lady
looked on as the leopard continued to struggle. She was preparing another arrow but
she knew the first one had done enough damage. She was only doing it for security as
she did not want the animal near her while it was still alive. In her younger days, she
would have been having the axe out by now. The animal was hanging upside down on
the branch, struggling and growling with its claws still stuck in the branch. She sent a
second arrow into the leopard’s neck. That did it. The fifty kilogram beast fell off the
branch at a tremendous speed and hit a big rock under the tree with so much force that
by the time Mma Mabaki got close to the animal, it was already twitching. It tried to
rise but failed. It only managed to raise its head a little. The angry eyes would have
scared many a brave men but they did not scare the old woman. Her own eyes were
equally angry. She could see that once upon a time there had been a lot of fight in this
animal but she had got the better of it. Within a few minutes, it was dead.

Mma Mabaki retrieved both arrows. The first one would need to be repaired.
There was no need to try and retrieve the remains of the calf. She thought about
reporting this to the Department of Wildlife but thought better of it. May be they would
accuse her of poaching and may be by the time they would come back, the animal
would be gone. She took one long look at the leopard and at the sky and realised that
she was correct on the second score. A lone vulture had started circling in the sky.

Chapter Two

The Night is Still Young

The village of Kang is nothing to write home about. It is a village in what most
people would call the middle of nowhere. It is more accurate to say it is in the middle of
the Kgalagadi in Botswana. Lying some four hundred kilometres west of Gaborone
along the Trans-Kgalagadi Highway, it is almost halfway from the Botswana capital to
the border with Namibia at Mamuno. Other than the salt pan to the southeast of the
village there is little else in the physical environment to catch the eye. Less than 50
kilometres or so to the north is the southern boundary of the Central Kgalagadi Game
Reserve. As you enter the Kang area coming from Gaborone and Jwaneng, you will
miss the village completely if you do not take the right turn just after Kang Lodge.
Kang Lodge offers accommodation suitable for those who like a quiet environment. If
you continue with the highway you will soon find yourself at Kang Ultra Stop, which is

a major fuelling point for travellers. It also hosts comfortable accommodation with
good meals. Right next to it is another comfortable Lodge called Echo. It is a quieter
beautifully grass-thatched lodge that still provides good hospitality.

The other option is to turn into the village just after Kang Lodge. This branch
curves for about six kilometres into the village and through it until it rejoins the
highway at BP Filling station. If you indeed turn into the village you will pass by the
Tqii Xu Yane Community Development Trust Plot, the Ministry of Transport, Nakabu
Lodge, Sefalana Wholesalers and soon find yourself in the centre of the village. The
centre hosts two supermarkets, a bakery, 4 bars, a church, a carpentry shop, the Chief’s
Court, a filling station, two hardware, a Chinese shop and an electrical shop. To your
west, north, north-east and north-west, out of sight, will be an Internet Cafe called
Meep, the Department of Wildlife offices, post office, the police station, Motaung
Junior Secondary School, Matsha Senior Secondary School, other government
departments and Kang Brigade; a vocational training college. Houses surround the
village centre. If it was somewhere else, a small village like Kang would be what you
would call a sleeping village. However, the residents of Kang put paid to that myth.
With seven regular bars, numerous backyard drinking points and nine churches, life in
Kang is anything but sleeping. The atmosphere is even more vibrant at night.

On this particular Friday Kang nightlife was in full swing. The jukeboxes were
blazing away into the night. Night revellers were enjoying themselves as if there was no
tomorrow. Heavy truck operators were out in full force, having taken a night’s break
from their Trans-Kgalagadi endeavours. Sex workers were out in full force as well
competing for clients. The situation was made even more competitive by that day’s
closure of schools, which resulted in an injection of young blood into night circulation.
It was as if some of the young revellers had never been to school or never intended to
go back. At the rate at which they were going, you could bet your last Pula that quite a
significant number of them wouldn’t. A good number of them had not even bothered to
remove their uniforms. May be the teachers were already far away somewhere or may
be they did not care. It was holiday time and what the student did during that time was
up to the parent. What was good for the goose was nobody’s business but the ganders.
There was definitely no shortage of ganders to receive the young geese tonight.

Kelebogile walked into Kang Bar and immediately all activities appeared to
stop. Men looked at her and liked what they saw. Even those who had partners seemed
to forget them and appeared hypnotised by the woman who had just walked in. Women
looked at her and hated her immediately. Kele, as she was popularly known, had that
effect on people. It would be an understatement to say that Kele was beautiful. She was
sensational. She was of medium height but regarded as tall for a San. Her face was
heart shaped with smooth light coloured skin that needed no additives to make it any
lighter. Her eyes were almost round and you could mistake her for being of Chinese
origin in poor light. Her waist was thin and you wondered how the upper part of her
body pivoted on that wasp-like waist. He protruding bottom looked perfect on her. Her
legs were every woman’s dream. Tonight she had on high heels that made her look
even taller than she really was.

Kele did not even make it to the counter for five men had already offered her a
drink. She sized them up with her “Chinese” eyes and quickly settled for one who
looked like he had more money than the others.

“I drink Hunters,” she said to him, taking a seat near him.
“That’s fine with me sugar, I can buy you anything you want,” he said, whereof
he went to the counter and bought the drink for her.

“What is your name honey?” he asked after he got back and had given her the

drink.
“Kele,” she answered not giving her full name. She took a sip of beer from her

bottle. She drank alright but she needed a sober head to complete her transaction and so

she was always careful about not getting drunk before the deal was done. He was new,

she thought. She knew all the residents of Kang.
“Nice name. You are very beautiful as well. Do you know that you are the most

beautiful lady in this place?”
“Yes, but thanks all the same.” Her gratitude was not genuine although she

knew that the words were true. She was also sure that it was not the beer talking. Kele

knew she was beautiful all right. She had heard that complement thousands of times

and it did not make her blush anymore. Whether they thought she was Miss Kang or

Miss World, it did not really matter to her. What mattered was the number of Pulas the

guy was willing cough up for her services.
“You are an angel, you know.” he continued with his compliments.
“Angels live in Heaven? At least my old Pastor used to tell me that angels lived

in Heaven.”
“Well, not anymore, at least for one of them. Ay, don’t tell me that you used to

go to church.”
“I did, a long time ago but it was not interesting and it did not give me freedom.

I love freedom.” She sounded serious.
“That makes it two of us. So we are two freedom lovers. You see, we have

something in common.”
“May be that is the only thing that we have in common.”
“You will see that we have other things in common. For instance, you look like

a fun loving person, which I am.”
“You are probably right. I love fun too,” she responded, more for something to

say than anything else.
“You see, I already know you. Are you really from here or you are from

Gaborone. Beautiful ladies like you should be from Gaborone,” he was saying but Kele

was half listening. She was already doing the maths and thinking how much would be

in her purse by the end of that night.
“You want to take me to Gaborone?” she asked.
“I will if you want to. Hell, I can take you anywhere in the world but that is not

what I said. I asked whether you are not from Gaborone. You are too beautiful to come
from such a small village.”

“I thought you said I was an angel from Heaven,” she said teasing him. “I am
from Kang,” she added.

“Then may be I should take you to Jo’burg with me.”
“Don’t you have a wife in Jo’burg?”
“Me, do I look like I have a wife?” The way he said it you would be tempted to

believe him.
“You surely look like you have one.” She was just joking although she was

almost sure that he had one. If there was something she never worried about, it was
people’s wives. Her philosophy was that if wives worried about their husbands they

would keep them on a leash at home and not allow them to frequent bars on a Friday

night or on any other night for that matter.
“No dear, I want you to be my wife.”

“I believe in dealing with one night at a time. Tomorrow is another day. Let me
be your wife for today and see whether you will have the same idea by tomorrow.” She

was sure he would change his mind once the Dutch courage disappeared.
“Don’t worry. Tomorrow never dies.”
“Meaning……………?”
“Forget it; I still want to take you to Jo’burg.”
“May be the beer is getting to you, I think we should go somewhere private.” It

was not that she did not want to go to Jo’burg. She was sure he had a wife in the City of

Gold and she did not think he would pursue this type of talk for too long. In addition

she had no passport and so going to South Africa was out of the question. Moreover

this was a business transaction; the sooner she sealed the deal, the better. She was not

sure yet where she would go tonight. She did not have place of her own yet. Going to

her parents place was out of the question. Her father would kill her. Going to a lodge

required Mr Finance to take the lead. He rescued her.
“The night is still young and I have space for a few more pints of beer but who

can deny the needs of an angel like you? Let’s go to a lodge. Suggest any you want, Mr

Moneybags is here. I have parked my truck outside and so we can use it to go to the
lodge. The truck is too dirty for a beautiful lady like you though.”

“I love multiple choices. Let me tell you on our way out,” she said, standing up

and starting to walk away from the table.
“That is fine with me honey. That is fine with me. You love multiple choices. I

love you,” he said, following her.” Now it was the beer talking.
As Kele and the man from Jo’burg went out, life in the bar got back to normal.

The barmen looked at the two as they went out and shook his head. He felt sorry for the

man. He did not know what he was getting into. The barmen had heard rumours about

Kele. With time the rumours were not subsiding. As a matter of fact they were gaining

momentum. Some said she had the disease. Others said she had the virus. No one really

knew. He knew about her hospital escapades. But then everyone went to hospital. Yet
Kele’s case appeared different. If it was true she was behaving like she would not go

down alone. She would take a lot of people and families with her. Anyway, that was not
his business. He was hired to sell beer and not worry about people’s illnesses. He

quickly forgot about the issue as customers shouted for more beer.
Outside the bar negotiations between Kele and the man from Jo’burg were

getting to a new level. It was an easy negotiation for Kele as the man was either very

generous or it was the beer in him being generous. She quickly got a good deal. Kele

was very happy to get a good deal so easily. She wished the weekend would continue in

that mode. She really needed to start living on her own and so a large injection of cash

would help her cause. Her parents were always on her case and so the sooner she

moved out the better. She was a bit worried about her frequent illnesses and the need to

have loved ones around her but the lure of money was tipping the scale.
For the man from Jo’burg, this was like hitting the jackpot as well. He had

captured the most beautiful woman around. If only the man knew what he was getting

into, he would have stuck to his drinking and reserved his other adventures for his wife.

If he had known that he would get more than he bargained for, he would have struck to

driving trucks. But the man did know what he was getting into and he was being

reckless and so his fate was also sealed. Indeed they went to a lodge. By the next
morning the man from Jo’burg was no longer enthusiastic about having Kele as his

wife. He dropped her off in the centre of the village and resumed his journey. This leg

of his journey was easier because he was virtually carrying nothing. As a matter of fact,

this time around, he was actually carrying something, not in the truck per se but in his

bloodstream. He might have carried one or two unwanted things in that bloodstream
over the years but now he was carrying something far more deadly than anything he
had experienced in his life.

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