“Last call for the bus to the border!” an irritated man shouted.
Takunda
threw his over-full rucksack onto his back, grabbed his sports bag, which was cutting into his hands, and ran for the bus. The bus that was transporting him to his new life.
Although he was sad to be leaving the beautiful jacaranda lined streets of Harare, he was looking forward to moving back to South Africa where he had gone to school.
Takunda couldn’t wait to see his cousin Michael again too, now some larny university lecturer; it had been three years. They had agreed he would stay with him in his shared house.
The bus rolled into the city and Takunda took in what he saw and felt. It was midday, hot for this time of year and more humid than home. Taxis were beeping and driving erratically; it was lunchtime The bus pulled up to a traffic light. Takunda looked out of the window and saw a boy of about 17 weaving between the cars selling wire key rings.
As the lights turned green the boy ran alongside a car waiting for his change, but the car sped off. The boy was left standing there bemused and exasperated.
The bus had arrived at its final destination; Breytons Bay.
The passengers disappeared quickly leaving Takunda standing alone waiting for his cousin.
A few metres away were a group of drunken men looking over at Takunda and laughing loudly.
One of the men called out to him asking where he was from.
“Harare, Zimbabwe” Takunda replied with a friendly smile. “It’s been a long journey!”
His friendly reply was met with hostility.
“Go home Makwerekwere!You take our jobs so we can’t work. You are no better than a monkey; an animal!”
Takunda took a deep breath. Was this how it was going to be? Had he made a terrible mistake?
One of the men staggered over to Takunda, his face full of rage and his fist cleanched ready to throw a punch.
Takunda nervously scanned the traffic looking for his cousin’s car. Where was he?
Fearful Takunda whispered to himself: “Please, please Michael, come quickly!”
Elsewhere >>>>>>>>
Mandisa sat in Top Mogozi hair salon and looked over at the petrol station to see if she could see him.
Although they had never spoken, she had once caught his eye and he had smiled back. Mandisa had tried to find out more about him but all she knew was that he arrived a few weeks ago from out of town.
As Mandisa’s mom braided her hair, pulling and tugging to make tight cornrows, she saw him come out of the shop to give a customer change.
After a particularly hard tug, Mandisa looked up at her mother and scowled. As she did so she was met with a smile and a knowing look.
“You haven’t stopped looking at that boy since you arrived. You’ve got it bad girl!” Her mom said.
Lindiwe, her mother, owned Top Mogozi. It was always busy with groups of women chatting and catching up on local gossip. Thankfully, she now resumed her conversation with one of those women leaving Mandisa in peace to think about every delicious thing about this boy.
His beautiful skin which was the colour of syrup on pancakes, his dark shiny hair, his warm eyes and contagious smile that lit up his face and those around him…
How was she going to get him to notice her, she thought?
She needed a plan…
