After Tears

Six: Wednesday, December 1

33 SIx Wednesday, December 1 the following day I found myself sitting behind our family house next to uncle Nyawana’s fruit-and-vegetable stall. In his left hand, my uncle was holding what he called his dream notebook, which he used to play fah-fee. Verwoerd was curled at my uncle’s feet with one eye open, watching me. I was sitting on an empty beer crate that was turned upside down. A pair of shears were on the ground in front of me as I’d been busy trimming the lawn since eight that morning. I was just about to wipe away the sweat that was streaming down my face when my cellphone started to ring and the name Mama appeared on the small screen. “hi, Mama.” “hello, baby, how are you this morning?” “I’m fine, Mama.” “Listen, I’m calling to ask you for a favour. I can see that your uncle is not concerned about it, but I am. I want you to go to the local housing Department.” She paused. “where’s that?” I asked. “I don’t know exactly, but I think it’s somewhere in Jo’burg city centre. I’m sure you’ll find it. I want you to go there and make certain that we are the rightful owners of the house.” “okay, Mama. when do you want me to go there?” “As soon as possible, today or tomorrow at the latest.” “okay, I’ll go tomorrow morning,” I said. “It’s already late today and the queue there must be very long by now.” 34 “please do that. I’ll see you in the morning . . . oh, by the way, I saw a job advert in today’s Star. there is a company that is looking for a legal adviser. that’s why we have to get your results as soon as possible. the house must be sold or else you’ll lose out on opportunities like this one. Your profession is in high demand, Bafana . I’ll come with the newspaper in the morning.” “But, Mama, I think they’re looking for experienced people.” “oh, they only need two years’ experience and that’s nothing, you meet all the other requirements. Just tell them that you’re fresh from one of the country’s biggest law schools.” “okay, Mama. If you come with the advert I’ll try to apply,” I said hesitantly, afraid to disappoint her. “All right, baby, but you really must apply for this job. Let me read the benefits to you,” she said excitedly. “the salary range is r290 000 to r350 000 per annum. uh, there is a thirteenth cheque as well and all they want is your LLB degree. that one you have, baby. they also need basic computer literacy and good listening skills, which I’m sure is nothing to you.” “Fine, Mama, I’ll try.” I finished talking on my cellphone and put it on the brick next to the lawn. My uncle was standing right behind me, but he seemed to be concentrating on his notebook rather than on the conversation I had just had with Mama. “So, tell me, Advo, what did you dream about last night?” he asked, scratching out something in his notebook with his pen. “Let me think, uncle,” I responded, wiping away the sweat that was running down my face with the t-shirt that I was wearing. “we don’t have much time, Advo,” he said, his eyes swinging in 35 the direction of maMfundisi’s house. “that chinese man, Liu, is coming in thirty minutes to collect all the bets.” “okay, give me a minute to remember, uncle.” “At ten o’clock that Fong kong will be here.” “All right, that dream is coming now, uncle.” he looked down at my watch, which he was wearing without my permission. Impatiently, he tucked his crutches under his arms and limped towards the low fence. he put his right hand up to his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun. At the corner of the street a group of women had gathered and, within seconds, priest Mthembu’s wife, maMfundisi, appeared. Not only was she priest Mthembu’s wife, which is why we called her maMfundisi , but she was also the person who ran the fah-fee game in our part of chi. I had heard from my uncle that her husband...