Young blood by Sifiso Mzobe

Author:Sifiso Mzobe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kwela
Published: 2011-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

9. Nana’s Matric Dance

9

Nana’s Matric Dance

By 4:00 am the following day, I was counting the money for the third time. It was R40 000 exactly. Not bad for a two-man share. From my cut I reserved R7 000 for Mdala’s scheme. Sleep did not come after that. I stared at the stained ceiling in my room until Dad, Ma and Nu woke.

Inspection in the mirror confirmed that my cuts were invisible to the passing eye but slightly defined to a roaming hand. I needed to avoid Ma and Dad just in case they woke with observant eyes. They might believe whatever lies I told about the cuts, but I did not want the questions. I made my bed and cleaned my room, mostly as a safeguard for my bank under the mattress. With my room clean, there was no reason for Ma to set foot inside. Better odds for my cash to remain undetected.

For the first time, I noticed how people under the same roof seldom look at each other. Nu headed to her cartoons on the television. She folded herself on the sofa in the lounge and watched, thumb in her mouth, eyes heavy with sleep. Ma trudged on behind her but remained on course to the kitchen.

My father’s chirpy demeanour in the mornings was something that annoyed the whole family. He always woke with a springy step, while the rest of us took close to an hour to adjust. He remained effervescent till midday, his energy gradually lessening through the afternoon. By evening, he was usually so tired that he slept wherever he sat.

“Good to see you are busy so early. A man must wake up early, Sipho. I need your help with the gearbox of the Nissan three-litre outside. It has been fixed but you must help me fit it.”

“No problem, Dad.”

“I must buy parts for another car first. I’ll be back around eleven. Get someone else to help you. I will pay.”

He exited through the kitchen door, enamel cup in hand.

Ma whipped up breakfast for Nu. The Jungle Oats came to the boil just as Ma placed a tray of her pies in the oven.

“Hi, Ma, how are you?” I said.

“Alright. You woke up with so much energy. Why?”

“I’ve reached a point where I can no longer stand a dirty room.”

“Tell your sister her food is ready.”

Ma sat at the kitchen table to a generous bowl of Jungle Oats.

“There is plenty left in the pot if you want some.”

“I am alright for now, Ma. I want to go to the shops for airtime.”

There was an Avus-blue dolphin-shaped M3 outside Mama Mkhize’s Tavern. I slid into Mama Mkhize’s for a morning cigarette. The frame at the counter by the kitchen door looked familiar. It was Musa, with a can of soft drink and a packet of cigarettes. He beamed when he saw me.

“I was about to call. I was coming to see you. I only stopped here because of thirst,” he said.

“I see. Vusi finally got you the M3 you wanted.

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