They are Coming

Chapter 3

8 Chapter 3 The congregation is not very large; its members, all singing, are kneeling before the priest in neat rows, their white gowns contrasting with the monotony of the earth colours of the autumn bush. When the priest, Siziba, sees Ambition, he raises his long staff over his head, as if he wants to hook something above him. The singing stops immediately. Ambition stops before him and hitches up his shorts. The priest regards him silently. He’s an elderly man with a clean-shaven head and a long white beard. A huge red cross is stitched to the front of his gown. ‘You’re late today,’ Siziba’s voice is low and grating. ‘It’s past eleven now.’ ‘There were Green Bombers in the street,’ Ambition replies. ‘My mother didn’t want me to leave the house.’ ‘We saw the fighting from here,’ Siziba acknowledges. ‘Has your sister returned home?’ Ambition shakes his head. ‘No.’ ‘When did you last see her?’ ‘She was with the Green Bombers today.’ Siziba raises his face to the sky, closes his eyes, and breaks into a song. The congregation do the same. Still singing, Siziba hands his Bible and staff to the woman kneeling beside him, his wife MaSiziba. Beside her is MaChivanda, the money-changer who lives in the big yellow house behind Ambition’s home. Then, stretching his arms towards Ambition, his eyes half-closed, the priest flicks his fingers in and out, beckoning him nearer. Ambition steps forward and kneels in front of Siziba, who grips his face in both his hands, and looking up to the heavens breaks into tongues, while the women sing. 9 MaChivanda is leading in a light but beautiful descant. Ambition feels Siziba’s palms on his cheeks squeezing them so that his lips pout. It makes him feel silly. Given a choice, he would have preferred the priest to place his hands on his head, as he does with the adults. Finally, the prayer ends, and Siziba joins in the singing again, smoothly taking the lead from MaChivanda. Removing his hands from Ambition ’s cheeks, he takes a strip of red cloth from a bag at his feet and, still singing, he ties it around the boy’s forehead. Then he takes a length of white cloth from the bag, pours a little water on it, and hands the cloth to Ambition. ‘Go there and face towards the source of the evil, my son,’ the priest instructs, pointing at a slab of rock. ‘Cover yourself with this cloth and pray to the Lord to make your sister see reason and return home.’ With the red band around his forehead, and without a shirt, Ambition feels like a WWF champion. He kneels on the slab of rock, the white cloth draped over his small shoulders, its ends in his hands. He has not yet covered his head to pray. The scene before him is too interesting . His mind wanders. The land rises slowly toward the houses on the other side of the Masiyephambili Road. To the left is the Lobengula Beer Garden, which is built on the rise in such a way that it seems as if it is sliding backwards towards him. Ambition can see that people are assembled in a group in the middle of the garden, in the space reserved for dancing, just in front of the jukebox. But there’s no music coming from there today, no rumba, no Solomon Skhuza, the beer garden patrons’ preferred music. Adjacent to the beer garden is Ilanga Youth Centre where the Green Bombers have their camp. Unusually, there is no activity inside its barbed wire fenced grounds. A group of people emerge from behind the beer garden. Ambition instantly recognises their green T-shirts. He squints hard trying to see Senzeni, but it is far too far away to see any one individual. So he looks for the flag, and can’t see that either. A police truck comes to a stop beside the Green Bombers. Police officers jump out, and the two groups engage in conversation. Ambition looks back to the beer garden. The group there seems to be being addressed by a man in a white shirt. Ambition wonders if it could be Mr Nkani. Then the Green Bombers turn away from the policemen and run 10 into the township. Ambition bends his head again, knowing he should be...