Lucky visits the Mall
Lucky trotted after his Uncle Temba.
"How much further?"
"To those buildings," Temba screwed up his wizened face at the
hurtling traffic.
Lucky lifted his T-shirt over his nose to avoid the fumes and inspected the glass
and chrome domed building in the distance. It looks like frogspawn from the
river and the cars are like tadpoles wriggling in and out, he mused.
"There is no time for your dreaming today, umfana.
Walk the other side, this road is not safe." Temba took the little boy's
hand.
In the eventual safety of the car park, Temba dusted Lucky down, wiping his
face and shaven head with his hands. The young lad returned the favour by
brushing the flecks from the back of Temba's tatty
blazer.
Groomed, they headed for the entrance of the looming building.
"What does that say?" Lucky pointed above the entrance.
"
"Shopping mall?" Lucky repeated, not comprehending.
"Iziphaza eziningi.
The home of many shops," Temba explained, while trying to join the flow of
bustling shoppers and avoiding the snapping doors.
"I think the sun must live here too, Ubabomkhulu?"
Lucky looked upwards and held out his arms, spinning around and around. The
glass top and batteries of fluorescent lights blended into a kaleidoscope of
colour.
Temba chuckled. "The best is still to come."
Lucky gawped into every shop window, marvelling at the fine mannequins, the
funky skateboard shops and jabbering plasma screens. He laughed at the gyrating
customers in the CD boutiques and comical manifestations in trendy
hairdressers.
A clown cavorted in the entrance of a toy shop, shaping balloons and dishing
them out to applauding kids.
Temba looked down at the brown imploring eyes of his little companion.
"Do you want one?"
"I would like one for Thandi." Lucky's eyes
lit up.
Temba shuffled forward and held his hand out behind the horde of baying
children.
"Clear off. These are for customers only." The clown pulled the
balloons toward his chest.
Temba withdrew his hand and lifted his worn hat. "Sorry, I thought it was
for everyone."
"Well, it isn't. If you want one, come inside and buy something."
"I have no money, Mr. Clown, but thank you for your help."
"Help?"
"Yes, Sir. Now I can explain to this child why clowns have painted
smiles." He held Lucky around the shoulders and the two down-at-the-heel
friends continued on their way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Ngani lelo phunga?" Lucky held his nose in disgust.
Before him a deluge of neon battled for supremacy, promoting fried chicken,
pizza, hamburgers, shwarma's, fish and curries. The
bilious aroma of fused confection and spices brought tears to his eyes.
"Hey, there's McDonald's." Lucky pointed to the familiar large yellow
M, pleased at recognising something in this strange world, albeit from magazine
pictures plastered on Gogo's walls for insulation.
Temba turned Lucky away from the diners. "It is not good to stare when
people are eating."
But the young boy couldn't tear himself from the frenzy of patrons, devouring
their favourite fast-food. Like hyena, he thought as he watched the pushing and
shoving, the frantic ripping to get at the contents. The final rapture of
stuffing, gulping, squirting and oozing turned his stomach.
"Come, my boy." Temba guided Lucky towards a nearby departmental
store. The doors hissed open and closed like some kind of time machine,
transporting them to another realm. Inside, the once maverick shopper
surrendered to the ambience of the languorous décor and soothing melodies.
"Don't touch a thing," Temba advised. "Break anything in here
and it will take the rest of my life to pay for it. We are only passing
through. This way."
Lucky wrapped his arms around his chest concerned his heart could be heard. He
shuffled behind his uncle, holding onto his jacket tails, until they reached
the foot of a trundling escalator.
"Isikhwelo esilunjiweyo?"
"No, it's not magic." Temba grasped his wrist and lunged onto
the rolling staircase.
Lucky teetered for a second before finding his balance.
"Can we go again?"
"Aren't you hungry?"
"Yes, but I want to go again."
"Perhaps later." Temba rested his hand on
the lad's shoulder for support.
The pair walked to the far end of the mall, stopping to peer through windows or
to admire the theatres of consumerism.
Temba led Lucky through a fire escape onto the 1st floor car park. Tired, he
scuffled up to one of the outside vendors and ordered lunch from the line of
boiling cauldrons. By way of a treat, he ordered a generic tin of cola to accompany
their lunch. They sat under the shade outside the public ablution blocks and
watched the children playing arcade games and ten pin through a large one-way
plate glass window.
Maybe I'll come and work here, Lucky sighed to himself. It's better than
driving a taxi or selling on the street corners. I could bring Thandi and even Gogo. He washed his fingers in the washroom
and dried them on his pants. Wish I was home with Gogo. He wondered what Thandi was up to and promised to visit her tomorrow.
Temba tore the Clingfilm from the steaming pap and poured on the congealed
gravy. They ate in silence, rolling the food in their finger tips and
reminiscing about the day's events, occasionally offering the other a sip.
Temba refilled the tin from an outside tap and drank the tepid water before
returning to Lucky. "So what have you learnt?"
Lucky shrugged his shoulders. "Is this where the rich live?
Temba nodded. "At first for white people. Now
it's the have's and have not's."
He pondered a moment before continuing. "Remember, my boy. Abundance does
not spread; famine does."
Lucky rolled his eyes as the old man began his cabaret of proverbs.
"Plenty sits still, hunger is a wanderer."
"Come, Uncle, we have much to see." Lucky pulled his uncle up and
returned to the mall.
"Where are we going?"
"I want to play with those kids." Lucky pointed to the jangling
arcade machines and boisterous children he had watched during lunch.
"Those machines eat money. You can sit over there and watch." Temba
pointed to small play area with low table and chairs. Lucky sidled up wary of
another boy who sat reading. He perched on the end of the first plastic stool,
one eye on the boy, the other, digesting the hullabaloo of noise, lights and
commotion.
"I like Spiderman." The boy smiled across at him.
Lucky almost slid from his stool. Never before had he seen such a face, covered
in spots, with a toothless smile, red hair and glowing ears that were more akin
to wings. Lucky glanced at his Uncle for reassurance, then back at the boy who
was now showing him a picture of a flying man.
"Do you like Spiderman?"
Lucky nodded, unsure what the boy was saying.
"Me too. Do you want to read with me?"
Lucky nodded even slower, avoiding eye contact.
"Come sit here, we can share."
Lucky remained rooted to his chair.
"Okay, I'll sit by you." The lad pushed down on the tabletop and
dragged his legs beneath him. Lucky didn't know where to look, at the boy's
face, or the callipers attached to his skinny legs.
"My name is Eddie. What's your's?
"Lucky," he managed a whisper.
"Hi, Lucky." He held out a slim pale hand.
Mesmerised, Lucky shook hands.
Eddie opened the book and began explaining Spiderman and his superpowers.
Lucky observed Eddie more than the comic hero. What a strange person I have met
today, he deliberated. Red hair, big ears, strange legs and what are those
marks on his face?
"They're freckles."
Lucky pulled his hand from the boy's face with a start.
"My mom says I must wear sun cream, because the sun will burn my skin and
I'll get more and more freckles." Eddie declared, his pale blue eyes
disconcerting Lucky further
Initiation over, the boys settled down to the book, communicating via signals,
a variety of lingoes and the language of youth.
After a short while Temba interrupted. "Lucky, it's time to go. I must buy
some groceries before the shops close. Say goodbye to your friend."
"Can he come back next week, Lucky's Dad?"
"Maybe Eddie, maybe." Temba didn't promise,
nor did he correct him.
"Great. See you next week."
Unsure of what Eddie was on about; Lucky responded to the tone and nodded.
"Hamba kahle,
Lucky."
"How." Lucky stared in disbelief at Eddie's Zulu farewell.
"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Temba stopped outside the first supermarket. "I want to pick up a few
things here; it is far cheaper than the village." Temba grabbed a shopping
trolley and ducked inside.
"Can I push it?"
"Sure, but stay close and don't bump my heels."
Lucky giggled, looking down at his uncles crumbling shoes, swishing along the
polished tiles.
"Can you see the green soap, Lucky? Your eyes are better then mine."
Lucky shook his head as he scanned the host of brands before him.
"I'll ask this nice person." Temba shuffled across to a shop
assistant busy packing out a shelf.
"Sawubona." He
greeted.
Temba tried again. "Hello."
Lucky stuck a finger in his ear, suggesting the woman might be hard of hearing.
Temba touched the girl who eventually looked up with distain. "I'll be
with you as soon as I've finished here. Sir."
Uncertain of the woman's belligerence, Temba smiled back and waited.
Finished, she stood up and turned to Temba. "What do you want?"
Temba looked at her a little puzzled. This young lady with her nose ring and
blonde dyed hair seemed not to like him.
"I'm looking for the green soap," he indicated a long bar.
The assistant laughed and sneered. "Not in this aisle, old man. Aisle twenty seven, where the house cleaners are." She
poked a tongue at the boy alongside, who was looking at her in amazement. Lucky
quickly averted his eyes.
"Well, thank you," Temba offered.
"Don't thank me, it's just my job," she called after the two.
"Why is that lady's hair yellow, Uncle?"
Temba shook his head. "I don't know, my boy. I really don't know."
"I thought only white people had yellow hair."
Temba changed the subject. "Here it is." He selected a stick of
carbolic soap. "You see its fifty cents cheaper. Now where do they sell
the snuff? I mustn't forget Gogo's Vaseline."
With groceries in hand the two headed for the exit. Lucky took a closer look at
the toy shop window now that the clown had gone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The late afternoon sun made the two quicken their pace.
"Lucky, Lucky."
Both stopped and looked about them for the thin voice.
"Over here, Lucky." A frail hand waved from a posh vehicle nearby.
The unmistakeable face of Eddie peered from the open window.
"Who is calling your name?" Temba squinted into the setting son.
"Oondlebe zikhany'
ilanga?" Lucky muttered back, returning
the wave.
Temba repressed a smile of Lucky's account of Eddie - The ear's that the sun
shines through?
Eddie struggled out of the car. "This is Lucky I was telling you about,
Mum."
"Pleased to meet you guys. Thank you for letting Lucky spend
time with Eddie." His mother dripping in gold jewellery acknowledged them.
"It's a pleasure Mrs. Eddie," Temba answered coyly, noticing the
lady’s make-up resembled that of the clown.
"Can I offer you two a lift home?"
"That would be wonderful." Temba shoved Lucky in the back of the
pick-up in case she changed her mind.
"Can I go in the back as well?
"Eddie, I don't think.. Well, alright, but you
sit inside and not on the edge."
"Cool, thanks mum."
Temba helped Eddie, then slid in himself. Eddie's
mother ensured everyone was safe before starting the vehicle.
"Thanks for a great day, ubabomkhulu."
Lucky hugged his Uncle's leg.
"A pleasure, ibutho lami. You warm an old man's heart" Lucky
preened whenever his uncle called him, 'his warrior'.
"What else have you learned today, young man?"
Without a second thought Lucky blurted, "You can never tell where your
friends come from or how they look."
"Very true, young man. It takes many colours of
the leaf to make a tree."
Eddie, unable to understand the language and not to be left out, butted in with
the only Zulu words he knew. "
The three laughed until their sides hurt, enjoying the freedom of the moving
vehicle
James Tobias
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|
Name |
Comment |
Date |
|
Erna |
DEEE-light-FUL! Thanks! |
2007-11-04 |
|
Mandy |
I enjoyed your story. You capture the
world of a child so well and how overwhelmed it must have felt to be in that
huge place of new experiences. |
2007-11-10 |
|
Ginny |
Terrific story, a real heart
warmer |
2007-11-14 |
|
Barbara |
Good plot, clumsy writing that
detracts from the force of the story. The author has a good story here, but
needs to sharpen up his style and also his personalisation of the characters
as they don't really come to life at present as 'real' people. Also, using a
lot of African dialogue makes it difficult for the non-dialect speaker to
understand the importance of what is being said especially as there is no
English translation. |
2007-12-10 |
|
Louis |
James - I agree with Barbara,
however, a good story is not solely reliant on those points. I liked
your story, aside from the grammar. A good story is also reliant on good
characters, POV, mechanics, setting, tone and flow or pacing. |
2007-12-12 |
|
Siyaduma |
I enjoyed the story but I have
found a few rough edges. |
2008-01-01 |
|
Erna |
I think the “random Nguni words”
work well to suggest that Lucky & his uncle converse in an African
language – we assume that they are not talking English with each other
because of those words. I’m just not too sure whether they are grammatically
correct! For instance – I think one drops the u from umfana
when speaking to a person, but you keep it when speaking about
a person – but my Zulu knowledge is shaky at best… so we need some Nguni
speakers to help us here! I enjoyed the dialogue immensely
and did not find it confusing, but helpful in moving the story along. I like
stories that are told by voices. |
2008-01-02 |
|
James Tobias |
Good to see you critiquing,
Siyaduma, whether it is for revenge or to improve your own writing.
|
2008-01-05 |
|
Erna |
James, I think you misunderstood
Siyaduma, or else I do not understand what you meant by saying: “Why would
you assume a stereotypical attitude to my writing and not your own?” He wrote: “I doubt that a white woman would
be comfortable with giving a black adult man and his nephew a lift home.
Excuse me if you find this stereotypical and ignorant” I understood that Siyaduma was
apologising for believing, stereotypically, that white women do not give
lifts to black men, i.e. “societal stereotyping”. I do not understand what
your question to Siyaduma means… are you implying that you do not consider his
remark stereotypical… oh, darn! I am confusing myself! By the way, Siyaduma, I could
imagine myself as that white woman, giving a lift to a
kindly-looking, dignified elderly black father-figure with a cute little boy
in tow. I have done such a thing, on occasion. I’ve even been known to drive
into Sharpeville, Sebokeng & Soweto, alone. I’d probably still be doing
it, if I were not the victim of a mugging a few months ago (in Westdene, in broad daylight) – but not by an old man. My
assailant was a zooty, well-dressed,
affluent-looking young guy, and I did not offer him a lift. So these
days I am a lot less courageous & friendly than I used to be… sad, but
true. |
2008-01-05 |
|
Louis |
Ladies and gents - now this is
what I call - interaction. I'm jealous because James and Siya are
getting all the attention - what about my stories? (LOL) |
2008-01-06 |
|
James |
Erna - Some good points. What I meant about Siya's stereotypical
claims that he found inconceivable in my writing, is that as a writer he
expects readers to do so in his work, yet finds it a stumbling block in
others. Many of us have not experienced what he writes about, yet we accept
that they are true for the sake of the story.
|
2008-01-07 |