Under Water by J. L. Powers

Author:J. L. Powers [Powers, J. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Young Adult Fiction, Coming of Age, Social Themes, Self-Esteem & Self-Reliance, People & Places, Africa, Girls & Women
ISBN: 9781947627055
Google: HRiMDwAAQBAJ
Publisher: Cinco Puntos Press
Published: 2019-03-19T20:50:34+00:00

We wake in the morning to loud noises, a babbling crowd just outside our gate. I brush my hand across my mouth, which still tastes of puke, wiping off the crusty drool that dried on my cheek.

“Get up, Zi,” I say. “Something is happening outside.”

“Is it?” She yawns and stretches.

My bones ache from our awkward sleep. But at least we made it through the night. Nobody broke in. Nobody killed us. Nhlanhla is standing at the door, whining to be let out, and as soon as I open the door, she bounds out the door and runs to the gate, barking at the people shoving and pushing to be in front.

I walk towards the yelling crowd. The gate is closed and I assume the lock is still on it—whoever was in our yard last night must have climbed over the barbed wire that surrounds the yard.

And then I see it.

“Zi, get back inside,” I say quick quick.

“What? Why?” And then she sees it too because she screams.

“Get back inside,” I shout. “Hamba!”

She twirls around and runs back to the house, slamming the door behind her.

I advance more slowly. My focus narrows in on the body of the man slumped against the gate.

“Who is it?” I call.

Several people in the crowd look east, towards the tuck shop at the top of the hill. The tuck shop is burning, flames leaping high in the early morning sky. And the person slumped against my gate is Ahmed. I don’t even have to feel him to know his body is cold. His spirit left hours ago.

The people gathered around him look somber, but up the hill young men toyi-toyi in front of the shop as it burns.

I don’t even think. I jerk open the gate. The lock is broken. Ahmed’s body slumps back into the yard. I shove his body into my yard and pull the gate shut. Then I glare at the crowd before stalking up the hill.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” I scream at the young men. Who are they? They are just showing their faces to God and everybody, no fear. Don’t they understand we could identify them later to the police? That they could end up in jail? “You are terrible. Terrible, terrible men!” I yell.

They stop their dance and surround me, I suppose in an attempt to intimidate me, their lips grinning, deep growls in their throats. They toyi toyi. But they can’t make me fear them. Maybe if Zi was here, that would work. I would always be afraid for her and need to protect her.

“Go home,” I shout. “Be terrible there. I for one don’t want you anywhere near my street. Get out of here. Hambani! Hambani!”

They disperse slowly, just as the sound of sirens breaks over the hill that separates Pietermaritzburg from Imbali. A fire engine chugs up the main street, and then up the dirt road toward the smoke.

Nobody’s standing here watching. They’ve all gone home. I suppose my yelling shamed them…or something.

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