The Cousins are God
We had just finished mealie-meal porridge, three
siblings and two cousins together, Lazola, Ayanda, Zizipho, Aphelele and I. Laz, Aphelele and I are the siblings and I'm the first born
followed by my brother Laz and then her. Zizh and Ayas are our cousins. Laz and Ayas were both 18, Aphelele and Zish were both 16
and I was er 24. We were at home, our parent's home
at Engojini village. One thing common about all of us
is that we are all bastards, you know, all born out of wedlock. I suppose its
some kind of a sin, which makes us one whopper of a sin together.
We were chatting about whole lot of things, and we each felt laziness consuming
us, that feeling which follows a full dish of hot porridge in a hot summer
morning. Laz had not eaten the porridge,
he is very particular about what he eats. 'People change' so I thought to
myself. I should also state here that Laz is the
celebrity among us; known by everyone and anyone. He is also a believable
fibber, you know, in a small talk sense. But he can be very easily broken in
real episodes of life.
Zish (an often man-like behaving cousin of mine) was
preparing to go to town on behalf of the cousins, to buy some last minute
groceries for the little party planned for late that evening. It was New Year's
Eve, and the cousins as led by Aphelele herself (who
is considered the intellect by everyone) had had some fundraising spell (asking
family grown ups for cash) in the past two days for this
late-night-early-morning-year-end-year-start party. There was above two hundred
rand collected and a secretly consolidated list, which Zish
was to take with to town at about midday. Of course the list was drafted by
her-intellect-self, Aphelele, the propagandress,
and only sent for approval to the rest. Zish was in
no rush, it seemed, "she never is" I recalled. So we sat chatting and
chuckling carelessly as we normally do.
As I said, with no agenda on the table, everyone was striking their small talk
with anyone and with no particular point to make. You could have heard loose
talk about irritation at the new ANC president who punctuates his sentences by
clearing his throat. "Lies" said one of the teens. It was said so
funny that we broke into artless laughter which was punctuated with a lazy
"whow" from Ayas.
Himself, Ayas laughs a lot.
He would laugh at the fact that we are laughing, and then turn to laugh at his
laugh for our laughing. His laughter is the kind that accelerates, contagiously
and then "whow" is his trademark full stop at every laughter. "We were just in a none-sense
mood" I realize.
My cousins and siblings are all teenagers and I am twenty four, although I
don't look like it, act like it, and feel like it. So I'm a kind of confused
soul, since I am neither a child nor a real adult. Sometimes I'm caught in a
childish act by elders, and they give me a "grow up already" kind of
a look, which embarrasses me. Like being caught laughing at nothing with Ayas. This youth also looks at me as their pal and not
exactly a grown up. For this reason, I don't think any of them wants to be like
me when they are twenty four. I shave my beard clean, all, and mustache, to maintain my youthful appearance and to make
room for the delaying maturity. I suppose you can't imagine a bearded twenty
four year old chasing a ball (made of stockings) with
girl-teens on the lawn.
So we relaxed and chat at the stools of our dining-turned-kitchen
room.
Making reference to Zish's trip to Whittlesea, we found ourselves listening to some biblical
story-telling. Lazola, the usual suspect, started to
narrate a story about a man called Jonah in the bible. "Apparently" Laz said "this man was impolitely awoken up by God to
go to a city called Ninive, and preach the word in
it". "Now" Laz said "we must
imagine that Whittlesea is 'Ninive',
that the cousins are 'God', and the list is 'the word' which Zizh 'Jonah' must buy 'preach'". Got that?
This was received with twitching laughter that sent me crying with amusement.
For a moment everyone in the room jerked up and down with this cracker of a
joke that my brother had made. I suppose it was fueled
by the momentum of perpetual laughter. Otherwise, I doubt I would have found it
so funny at any other given time. I mean, it's a known bible tale, an
embarrassing one, with some lesson in it. But it didn't seem like Laz had any intent to use it for its day purpose.
After Ayas's "whow",
Laz continued "Jonah woke and flee instead"
he said "a stupid move he would live to regret".
I always look at Lazola with envy. He has this charm
in him. He gets along with all kinds of people, young and old. "He is more
respected than I am" I think. "He will be more successful than
me" I continue to think. "And he gets everybody's attention at
anytime" this I know. In this way, he overshadows me like I wasn't there.
I mean, I love soccer, but I secretly had to stop playing for the village club
"Two for Joy" because of the looming character of my brother. And he
went on to become the star in the team, while I took refuge in education. Even
so, he will become the school's prefect, while I will be remembered for wetting
my pants at school. I feel inadequate in his presence, and everyone makes sure
of this. For instance, one day my grandfather came back fuming with anger.
"Effects of brandy" I thought. He wanted to kill Lazola's
dog called Jet. "Themba and others alleges that
this dog is having intercourse with loose women in this village" he
thundered and spat a little spit aside but in the house. "In
particular" he points outside "that woman called MaSukwini"
he breathes and continues "such disgust" and he pauses. He gets up
and says "I have made a decision to kill this dog at once" he said
absolutely "we can't sit with this thing in our home, I swear in my
mother's name, Nontsikelelo, the daughter of Xakath'ugaga".
The father has spoken!
"When he is in this state, no one can stand before him" I remembered.
I stood there like a little boy -I felt like one- who is about to be whipped
for lack of common sense by his uncle as he used to or be sent to catch that
evil beast, Jet. My mother sent for Lazola speedily,
but secretly, and my brother was at home in no time.
A stab on my ego! I mean, my mother overlooked me, literally.
"How can my dog be murdered in your presence" Lazola's
look at me said. Nonetheless, I felt both relieved and brave when he got home.
Everyone, bar grandfather, assembled while mother narrated the sad story of
Jet's likely death to Lazola. "Thank God you are
here Lazola, child of my child" said grandmother
with tears.
Another stab on my ego!
In the mist of this oration, grandfather came in and I quickly found my seat,
like a dog tucking its tail between its legs. Lazola,
braved out in fury and said "this dog, here, is mine". My stomach
turned into knots as he said that. "No one" he shook his hands in a
manner of canceling "has authority on you but
me" he said to the dog as it jumped up leaning on him, standing on two. We
were all, bar grandfather, caught between relief and anxiety: relieved that he
was protecting the dog, but scared as he continued to pretend to be talking to
the dog while we knew he was speaking at grandfather. To cut a long story
short, Jet is wagging his tail at home as we speak. The envy that I had then is
the envy that I had on the day that he captured everybody's attention with
Jonah's anecdote.
There was an atypical silence.
After which "God is watching" Laz
sermonized "while Jonah boards a ship to Tharsis,
instead of Ninive". "Now it will be
important for you Zingane to avoid Jonah's test"
he cautioned Zish "because what followed is that
God sent turbulent winds in the sea to disturb the sailing". We were now
listening to Preacher Laz with interest. What is
striking is that this fellow, Lazola, is no
particular Christian nor is he religious. "Frankly" I think
"it's surprising that he recites a bible story with such exactness".. "It's in his character to surprise you, otherwise
what were you always jealousy of" I counter-think.
The subsequent silence thickens even more.
"In lay terms" he says so matter-of-factly "God rocked the
boat". Ayas was the only one laughing at this,
at least doing so aloud. I also found it funny because Rock the boat is a title
for a popular song of Alliyah's, whose video is
nothing but a bunch of half-naked American girls on a paced-up little boat
doing snake-like moves. There's nothing Godly about it. The song was now
activated in my mind "rock, the boat; rock, the boat". So this was
one of those rare moments where I was able to hold my urge to laugh. A certain
faculty of my brains reminded me that that was not what God did when (according
to Lazola) He rocked the Tharsis
boat. So my mind drifted away from sexy girls at the beach and back to the
troubled waters of the ocean. The new image of the Tharsis
boat I envisioned was that of the sinking Titanic. "It's acceptable"
I supposed.
There was no silence. Unfortunately! I lost Laz for a
while. So, I furrowed my forehead and leaned forward trying to catch-up. I
reminded myself to quietly search for any evidence in their faces which may
have suggested that they had noticed my drift. This, too, resulted in more mind
drift and I was concerned about missing out the jokes in-between. I suspect I
have seizures of absent-mindedness in general. I listened further and caught
him when he said "so the Tharsis crew searches
the boat for what could be the cause of the turbulence" he said "and
finds your friend, Jonah, fast asleep at the bottom of the ship" and he
added "in hiding".
Ayas and I are laughing at "your friend".
"Whow" he expectedly punctuates.
"Hey" Laz amplified his voice to a baritone
and pushed his eye balls "who the hell are you?" he got back to his
normal self and said "so the Tharsis ship crew
enquired". "Your brother" Laz said
"jumps up" Laz lifted both arms,
befittingly, palms open at ninety degrees "and confesses
to the crew" Laz's arms down "suggesting
how it could be God admonishing him for his disobedience". Ayas's phone rings and he jumps to pick up but it stops
before he gets to it. He giggles nervously and scrolls, and then smiles.. "Girlfriend" I thought. "But why so early
in the morning." I drift. Laz cleared his throat
to cancel the drift, and he continued "And Jonah did the honorable thing" Ayas found
his seat and Laz continued "he asked the men to
throw him at the sea so that the boat could sail smoothly". "When
they did" Laz waved his hands as if pushing a
big stone over "your brother was swallowed by er.
the bible says "great fish", but I think
shark" and he added "so the Tharsis crew
sailed smoothly in calm seas again"
Other than being disturbed by Ayas and my own
absent-mindedness, my eyes dwelled on my brother. His tough body, his childhood
burn scar at the side of his face, no beard yet, brown eyes and he still bites
his nails habitually, that is evident. I also catch myself thinking about how
he resembles his father; the shape of his head, height and by the look of
things politeness too. "Of my children, the passing away of the father was
most felt by Lazola" I remember mother saying. "I
also think people's remarks about the resemblance thing hurt him the most"
she added with grief. "I feel lonely" my mind replays Lazola saying "and was thinking how things would've
turned up had he still been alive" my thoughts evoked my own emotions by
now. So I decided to drift back and listen to this emerging man as he maneuvered his point to Zizipho
through the story of Jonah. "Imagine Jonah's shame" Laz said "when the shark spat him at the shores of Ninive, where, in fact God had sent him to at the first
place". "Yoh, Yoh,
Yoh" Ayas reacted in
astonishment, and we knew, he only did so when he suspected we were being fed
garbage. "What is that 'Yoh, Yoh. Yoh'
Ayanda?" said a needless reproachful enquiry
from Laz, which I think pierced Ayas,
but himself had already registered his suspicion, and the matter was hung up at
that.
But people looked upset.
Only eyes moved about.
There was a short-lived chuckle from Zish, which was
met with a reprimanding glance, and then silence from Laz.
Tension ballooned within seconds.
The silence took long enough that Aphelele decided to
get up to prepare for making dough. Zizipho, picked a basin to collect water so she can bath -if I can
call wiping bath. Ayanda asked -no one in particular-
about the correctness of our wall watch. In this time, I observe that Aphelele's eyes are decidedly heated. "She is
protesting against Lazola's reprimand of both Zizipho and Ayanda" I
conclude. Ayanda's question, in fact, is a way of
calming her down. These two are friends amongst us. Zizipho,
does not want to get involved, she always doesn't, so she storms out. Aphelele is not impressed with Lazola
playing father to them, so she protests this silently. Ayanda
seemed cool about it. By now, Lazola is holding a
hand with another to help chew the last bit of nails left. I think he hates
being misunderstood.
"So God sent the fish, I mean shark, to collect Jonah and post him where
he was meant to?" I encourage him to finish. I'm also trying to broker
some peace deal in the house. I am the only one who did not boycott the
session. I think it's my duty, as a self-perceived adult here, to fix things
up. I wait with fear of not being taken serious for someone to say something.
"Ja, you see" Laz
is back "and the Ninive crowd was waiting at the
shores, and there." he pauses permanently with disinterest. Zizipho,
comes in and seats and let her eyes satisfy her mind's curiosity. Ayanda goes out, but before he does, he glances at Lazola and "whow" he
sighs with that sarcasm of victor. "Him and Aphelele
have just ganged against Lazola successfully" I
think. I am irritated by this sudden heatedness by the teens all the same. But
it's always difficult to alter Aphelele's attitude on
anything. "She is sophisticated, that my sister" I opt out. "So Zingane" I venture to conclude "you know where Whittlesea is, don't you, so don't be Jonah now, and you
might not be so lucky with the sharks".
Zizipho chuckles away.
Lazola resigns into his bedroom, and throws himself
facedown on the bed.
Intimidated by Aphelele's giant presence, I go out to
my own room to find solace and sanity in Niq Mhlongo's Dog eat Dog. On my way
to the other house where my room is, I meet grandfather. I greet and he grunts
back. "For fuck's sake" is my grandfather's new swear word, I recall
out of the blue. He says it like "Four Fax sake". I conclude that he
learnt it from his drinking friend, the lawyer, Khandakhulu.
I see Jet.
He looks tired under the kraal's shade. I wonder what outrage has he been up
to.
When I finally get to my room, my eyes are on the bible. I pick the red-lipped
up to check the accuracy of the Jonah story. "It was only small talk,
verifying it is cruelty" I think. I check it up anyway Jonah chapter 1
verse 1 and onwards, "Lazola was entirely
correct" it dawns to me and I am satisfied. "Lazola's
disbelievers need to see this" so is a mental note I make.
I finish Dog eat Dog.
I think about my cousins and siblings, imagining that the cousins are God as Lazola had asked of us. It's a blasphemous mental picture.
But I can live with it.
It is there about that I took a nap.
And on the following night.
I press the light button on my watch and see that the time is 23h17. It is dark
and scary outside our village house on the first day of 2008. The long awaited
euphoria of a happy new year has died down already. My brother and I had had
none of it. "We never will", I think. I've been leaning against the
fence in front of the house whilst he adopted a half-seating-half-sleeping
position on the stoep unswervingly behind me, thinking deeply about the end of
his youth into unnatural adulthood, or possibly his life. Our house is a little
dot at the end of a wide village engulfed by breast-shaped mountains. This is
so that every car that comes down the hill-top from the direction of the city
blasts its lights at the face of our home as it follows a gravel road that
wounds our village. In my mind's eye, each spark of the car's light rays burns
my brother's soul, each car that slowly goes past zips away at my brother's skin.
To this, my brother promptly responds with a dull "Uhm"
or "Yho" in-between the passing and
flashing of each motor. At daylight, I had observed two unusually protruding
blood vessels in his forehead down the nose, beating and thudding incurably.
They're rooted in his forehead like goat horns. "He must have a deadly
head-ache on top of the unavoidable emotional scarring", I think. At the
sight of my watch's light he gusts "Uhm"
once more. This sound, right here, is to me a hammering of a nail into a brother's
heart. "One of these cars will make a turn into our village to collect my
brother" I remind myself. It will be the police van. They will take him
away, forever, and we both know this. At the anticipation of this, my eyes well
up. I hold tears. "I must not cry", I tell myself. I look at him, he
looks at me and our tears roll down at once, helplessly. I look away and
swallow the lumps in my throat, "Uhm" my
brother gusts, and a nail is further hammered into my heart. My brother has
committed an action which he only realized when confronted that it was grossly
against the law. "Given his age and the nature of this offence, he will
rot in jail", I think. As if listening to my thought process "Yho, what did I do?" he asks no one in particular. I
want to tell him "nothing" I want to say "you did nothing my
brother" I want to continue and say "your intent was no crime"
and I want to reassure him "I love you", but all I do is light the
watch, and "Uhm" he responds. The time is
01h12 and the dew is soaking us as we wait. At the admission of his action, I
advised him to tell only the truth and to not escape. I may have said "the
truth will set you free", but I don't think he believed it, although he honored the requests. THEY had no knowledge that it was
crime, he said; may be sin, but not crime. He regrets, deeply. He apologizes,
sorely. He wishes it were a nightmare, it isn't, and we wait.
Today I'm a pathetic child clouded with both fear and blame for the captivity
of my only brother as he leads an undreamed of life in prison for a crime he
committed without intent. But intent is no question, crime is. And I never see
my brother again.
Thando
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|
Name |
Comment |
Date |
|
Mandy |
This is an intricate story and I
am afraid I got myself a bit lost. This is especially true of the first
paragraph. Your first lines must grip the reader. I would like to suggest
that you commence your story with the second paragraph where you have clearly
found your rhythm, and fill us in with the family details later in the story.
I think you must make the plot clearer for the reader Points 2 - This writing needs a bit of editing and/or re-writing |
2008-01-27 |
|
Louis |
Thando - Both fiction and non-fiction
must be compelling. The beginning of the story is the most
important. It allows the reader the choice to stay or move on.
The secret to this first paragraph is to start from a point of action. I
didn't get that in your first paragraph. All very well, starting the
story with sibling and relative ages, but does this
compel/engage the reader? and I was er 24. Remove the er. We were at home.village.
The sentence could be shortened to read: We
were at our parents’ home in . One thing common about. We all had one thing in common. I mean, it's a known bible tale,
an embarrassing one, with some (remove some)
lesson in it. But it didn't seem like Laz had any
intent to use it for its day purpose. I think you get my drift, Thando. 1 Point - Difficult to
"get into" - I did not follow what it was all about |
2008-01-28 |
|
James |
I did try to get past the
telephone directory of the first paragraph. I won’t repeat what others have
already offered you other than: take their advice! |
2008-01-29 |
|
Ron |
I agree with Mandy. Points 2 - This writing needs a bit of editing and/or re-writing |
2008-01-30 |