Smash 'n Grab: part 1

Staring out the window during math period was something that Stephen often did. Stephen Matlethlo was a normal black post-apartheid boy in grade ten. As was apparently the norm in his family, he had gone to school and then continued to fail his eighth grade. To him, school was just another reason to have fun, and that’s all that he ever wanted to do, except – not again! Stephen thought.

Stephen’s older brother, Luvengo, was striding silently across the open school grounds, flanked on either side by his two best buds, Sipho and Kingsley. Once again, they were off around the school hall, probably to join the rest of his gang for a mid-class smoke. Stephen rolled his eyes. He didn’t know when his brother wasn’t bunking class. At first, it seemed a good idea for Luvengo to join the gang. His marks had temporarily gone up, (or, he was at least passing) he had seemed happier and he had started working. Needless to say, that didn’t last long. Stephen sighed and raised his hand in the air. The teacher stammered; it wasn’t often that Stephen had something to ask.

“Yes Mr Matlethlo? You don’t understand how 2x becomes thirty-six?”

“No sir, I do understand. I just want to go for a piss if that’s ok?” said Stephen sincerely. The class sniggered.

“I believe the right term is ‘be excused,’” the teacher pushed his horn-rimmed glasses up his long nose and stared hard at Stephen, probably wondering if he had been joking or not. Stephen rolled his eyes.

“Can I be excused, sir?” he said.

“You may. But the next section of work is really important so I want...” but Stephen didn’t hear what the teacher wanted as he whipped out of the classroom, his bag slung over his back, and headed in the opposite direction to the bathroom.

His mind was reeling, but not with the simple maths problem on the board; he was finally going to confront his brother about this stupid gang that he was part of, before it got too out of hand. Unfortunately, Stephen knew deep down inside that he already was too late. His brother had come home just the last Saturday with a huge wodge of cash in his hands, counting through plenty of notes.

“What are those?” Stephen had demanded, but Luvengo had just shoved the cash into his back pocked and stormed out the room. They hadn’t talked for two days until Luvengo had come clean with Stephen.

“It was a job,” Luvengo had said.

“What type of job pays that good on the first day?” asked Stephen sceptically.

“Listen, my brother,” Luvengo had put his hands on either side of Stephen’s shoulders and looked at him seriously, “there are some things in life that you just gotta do to prove yourself, you know? I did one of those things and now...” he grinned foolishly, “I’m in the best way I can be!”

“You’re being stupid,” and Stephen had shrugged out of his brother’s grasp and gone to do his homework.

Looking back, Stephen wished that he had said something a bit better than that to his brother, but now, walking purposefully towards the smoker’s corner, he couldn’t really do much about the past.

He was around the hall sooner than he thought and no teachers had seen him on the way. The smoker’s corner literally was a corner that no one could see if they just gave it a glance. The wall receeded in slightly, giving way to a cemi-circular alcove where up to ten people could stand comfortably. At a squeeze it could fit twenty. As per usual, there was a low whistle as Stephen came around the corner.

The first thing he saw was a coloured boy hastily opening his bag. The boy looked up innocently but, on seeing it was Stephen, the innocence gave way to a broad grin. The boy let out another whistle and Stephen heard a dozen or so breaths being let out.

“Warn us next time, will you?” demanded the coloured boy, but his grin was still in place.

This boy was Katlego. He had originally been Stephen’s best friend in grade eight, but then Katlego had failed and Stephen had passed and in turn their friendship had dwindled. Katlego, having no one else who really accepted him, had eventually found himself in the smoker’s crowd. He was a lanky boy with a square jaw but a nose too small for his face. His skew teeth were clothed with braces, but even they couldn’t hide the fact that his one tooth was missing.

“Yeah, sure,” said Stephen. “Can I see my brother?”

“Don’t you see him enough?” said Katlego, his grin fading quickly from his face.

“I just want to talk to him,” said Stephen.

“He don’t want to talk to you,” Kingsley had just come around the corner, smoke curling up through his fingers.

“He don’t want to, or he can’t?” said Stephen, his temper getting the better of him.

“Whichever makes little brother feel better,” laughed Kingsley. “He don’t need you looking after him, he’s a big boy you know? Why don’t you just relax a little, hey? You could always join us...” Kingsley’s indicated the corner with one hand, the other saluting his mouth. He breathed out the smoke slowly, his face one of pure ecstacy, as life was poured back into him.

“What you’re doing isn’t my idea of relaxing,” said Stephen strongly.

“Dude, seriously, you’re too uptight!” said Katlego.

“Yeah, Kingsley, your right; he is too uptight. Maybe you should see your brother. It might change your mind.”

Stephen wasn’t given a chance to say yes or no before Kingsley was pushing him forwards with the one arm while Katlego pushed him from the other side.

As Stephen came around the corner, he didn’t much like the sight that hit him. Three of Luvengo’s gang members were lying on the ground, eyes rolled back in their heads, drool dripping slowly from some of their mouths. Stephen had to look twice, but with a startled cry he realised that the one boy was Luvengo.

“What’s he on?” Stephen demanded.

“Just a little something my uncle gave me,” shrugged Kingsley. “I thought they might like it.”

“Like it? LIKE IT? LOOK AT WHAT THEY’VE BECOME!” screamed Stephen.

“Listen I didn’t shove it down their lungs or anything, they were welcome to it!” Kingsley replied with just as much force.

“Oh sure!” snapped Stephen, “just like you didn’t force my brother to do a stupid job to join your little group!”

“And who wanted to join our group in the first place?” sniped Kingsley.

Stephen was about to scream his head off when Luvengo’s zombie-like body shifted. It toppled over slowly and then crawled on hands and knees towards the three standing boys. The corpse was moaning and slowly life was filtering back into his face. The trip was ending for Luvengo. The zombie clawed at the ground and then found themselves gripped around Kingsley’s leg. Slowly the claws stroked the hem of Kingsley’s pants. The drool was sucked up into the mouth and the moaning became audible words.

“Net ‘n bietjie? Ne? Net ‘n klein bietjie. Net hierdie tyd? Asseblief? Asseblief?”

“No,” said Kingsley. “I don’t have any more.”

“Asseblief? Ek-ek sal enig  iets doen! Asseblief! Asseblief!”

“I said no!” said Kingsley a bit stronger this time. “But...tomorrow?”

“Yes...” moaned Luvengo. “Ja... more... more...” he turned, still in his delirious state and pulled his way back to the wall where he slumped down and leaned back, his head to the sky. He was mumbling again.

Stephen found that he was disgusted, but more than that, the smell was making him sick. How anyone couldn’t smell that a mile away was crazy.

“I’m leaving,” he said.

“You sure you don’t want some?” asked Kingsley.

“Believe me, I’ve never been more sure in my life.”

“You’re pathetic,” said Kingsley.

“Me?” said Stephen, “Me? I don’t think so. You people are pathetic. You want to know what I think of your passion?” he spat at Kingsley’s feet.

Before Stephen could do anything, he had been lifted off his feet and pinned firmly against the wall.

“You want to say that again?” hissed Kingsley through gritted teeth.

“I would if I could get more slobber,” gasped Stephen as he struggled to get free. His leg collided with the soft tissue under Kingsley’s belt. Kingsley doubled over and Stephen fell to his feet, staggering slightly on landing.

“You – you’re gonna pay for this! Skelm! Jy’s meer ‘n skelm as ons! Your life is dead! Weet jy? Dis dood!”

“Whatever,” Stephen said, straightening his blazer and then turning his back on Kingsley’s pain-filled body.

“Jy sal! Hoor jy? You’re gonna pay! Met alke been in jou liggaam!”

Stephen ignored him and walked away. He would have to talk to his brother at home...hopefully not in front of mom...

The rest of the maths period passed with no other activities to distract him. His least favourite subject came next, but his most favourite class; geography.

It had been a day of joy for Stephen the first day he had had Geography. He had initially taken the subject because – according to him – it was an easy one, but his reasoning had changed pretty quickly. Tammarin, a pretty white girl with long, straight hair and a tendancy to get full marks at everything, sat just in front of him. He had always liked her but what would his mother say if he brought home a white girl?

“Wat sal die ander ma’s dink? Sis! Wil jy hierdie familie in ‘n gemors sit? Kry haar wit vel uit hierdie huis!” Yes, that would be his mother, down to the last word. First wonder what the others will think, then wonder if he was trying to disgrace the family, and then offend the girl. His mother might complain about white people being racist, but in truth, she was even more so towards them.

He sighed and sat down. The teacher had already started talking about the different lines of latitude and recapping on the last lesson. Every time, every day, every week the same thing; school, school, school. If only something different could happen!

But then something caught his eye. Tammarin wasn’t taking notes as usual. Actually, she was whispering frantically to her next door neighbour – Jessica. He leant closer in order to hear better.

“...and then this shadow crept up behind her, smashed the window and grabbed her bag. I don’t think the guy realised I was in the backseat, and with my new camera to boot, but I managed to take a shot of him. I gave a copy of it to the police, but I don’t think they’re gonna find the guy just with a blurry photo. The guy still got the bag though...”

“And this was last week?” asked Jessica.

“Yeah, and no one has gotten hold of us from the police department. We stopped all mom’s cards obviously, but still...it’s not the kind of reaction we wanted from the police. They weren’t too impressed with the photo, it is kinda blurry.”

“Have you got it here?” asked Jessica excitedly.

“Yeah, it’s in my bag,” Tammarin rustled around in her bag and then extracted a sleek black camera. “I’m just glad I decided to open it in the car.” She pushed a few buttons and the screen came alight. She pushed a few more and a picture flashed over the screen. “let me just zoom in to his face,” she mumbled and then she handed the camera to Jessica.

Stephen had completely forgotten that he wasn’t aloud to talk to white girls. The droning of the geography teacher in the background didn’t mean a thing to him anymore. The only thing that meant anything to him was that camera with that photo. Before he knew it, he was talking.

“Tammarin?” asked Stephen. She turned and looked at him, not unkindly but a little suspiciously. He saw Jessica clench the camera a little tightly.

“Yes?” asked Tammarin.

“Well, I didn’t realise you wanted to be a photographer,” lied Stephen.

“Not really, but just as a hobby,” said Tammarin, but she wasn’t looking so suspicious now.

“I don’t know about that! I think anything you put your hand to you do well!” said Stephen. She blushed, but his complements had done their job.

“Would you like to see some of them?” she asked, prying the camera from Jessica’s still tight hands.

“Sure, I’d love to!” smiled Stephen innocently.

With the camera in his hands, he flipped through the photos quickly until he finally landed on the first photo. A blurred car window, a bag flying through the air, a clenched black hand around the bag’s strap and there, head cut off slightly at the top of the photo, were the eyes, nose and bat-like ears of Stephen’s brother Luvengo. Stephen’s heart was hammering and his eyes were wide open. How could his brother be so stupid?

“Are – are they ok?” asked Tammarin timidly.

Stephen forced himself to swallow hard. He looked back at Tammarin with her innocent and pure brown eyes...oh if only they belonged to the brown skin that was accepted by his mother...but no, he couldn’t think about that now. Now he had to think about his brother.

“Yeah, they’re real good,” he said through a hoarse whisper. “Do – do you keep this camera with you all the time?”

“Yeah, in my bag mostly. Hey, do you want to come with me this Friday to the rugby match? I’ve gotta take photos for the school web-page,” said Tammarin.

“I, er, I’ll see. Keep at it,” he smiled and turned back to his open paged Geography book. The blank pages stared at him, empty of all thoughts. Oh if only his mind could be as blank as that page! But no, he had to fill the page to empty his mind, so he picked up his pen and started to write.



Kingsley

I need to talk to you urgently. It’s about Luvengo – nothing about corner, but it’s still urgent! It might jeopardise you and all your friends, but even more so him. Meet me Friday during the rugby match.

From Stephen



He re-read his note, his tongue between his teeth. What if Kingsley didn’t come? What then? What if he thought it was a joke, or that Stephen was trying to get him back for the corner incident? But no, Kingsley was a smart bloke – his head might be full of smoke, but his brains worked along the same line of any gang member; keep the team together and everyone will be safe.

Kingsley couldn’t get out of the Geography class fast enough. He skidded down the corridor, turned left and entered the tunnel. Lines of blue metal boxes on either side of the tunnel stared down at him. He didn’t normally come down this tunnel; he didn’t have a locker. He slowly moved forwards, scanning the lockers for number ‘111.’ The lights overhead gave the lockers an earie glow and the silence they gave him was very prominent. He reached 101 and his stomach jumped, but he carried on moving forwards. He felt very ominous as he reached 111 and with bated breath slipped the scrap of paper through the grills in the locker’s door. He stared at the locker for a few seconds and then hastily turned and ran down the tunnel, towards the warm light of break. The golden numbers of each locker flashed at Stephen and all of a sudden, he felt as if he had done something that would change him forever; that note was his fate as strongly sealed as the crown jewels in a vault. Stephen was so busy analysing this feeling that he ran straight into someone at the end of the tunnel.

“OW!”

“Woah!”

And now Stephen was lying spread eagled on the ground, a girl’s head on his chest.

“Thanks for the soft landing,” said the girl, pushing herself up. “But you might want to watch where you’re going!”

“Oh, sorry, ja I’m just a little pre-occupied,” Stephen hastily got up. It took him a moment to realise who he was talking to. “Tammarin!”

“Hmm?” asked Tammarin. She had now moved back to a locker and was busy sorting through some books.

“I, er, didn’t realise you had a locker...”

“Yeah, it’s actually a new one,” she smiled a broad smile. “I guess you could say my books got the better of me.”

Stephen watched her for a moment as she pulled out an Accounting book and slipped it into her bag. As she was crouched down he looked back into her locker. There was a picture of a small boy in Tammarin’s arms, both smiling at the camera, another picture of a cat and a few well chosen sayings such as “If you don’t go for gold, go for broke.” Then Stephen’s eyes fell upon something that made him catch his breath; Tammarin’s sleek camera was resting peacefully on top of the pile of books.

Tammarin turned around.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

Stephen realised that his mouth was open and quickly closed it.

“No,” he said quickly and very unconvincingly. Tammarin raised an eyebrow. “I was just looking at that picture.”

“Oh, the one of my cousin and I?” asked Tammarin. “Yeah that was taken this last Christmas on their farm. I was actually looking forward to seeing my older cousin, Reace, but Ian was just as much fun. Are you sure you’re ok?” asked Tammarin because Stephen was now shrugging his weight from one foot to another. He wasn’t really concentrating on what Tammarin was saying but his eyes were still on the camera.

“Er, ja, ek’s goed. Luister, ek moet gaan,” he said quickly.

“Afrikaans?” asked Tammarin. “I didn’t realise you were an Afrikaner.”

“I’m partially Afrikaans. Sorry ‘bout that, but I burst into Afrikaans when there’s a pressing matter, and something’s just come to hand. Sorry, but I have to go.”

He turned to leave but Tammarin called after him, “Hey Stephen!”

Stephen turned back, “Ja?”

“Just er...be careful will you? I mean, this country’s not the safest, and it’s not just the whites that need some protection now and then.”

Stephen frowned; did Tammarin know who was in the photo? Did she have more information?

“Sure, if I ever need a hero, I’ll know who to call,” and then he walked around the corner, still frowning, one thought in his mind; Friday couldn’t come fast enough.

Unfortunately time didn’t seem to be on Stephen’s side. It was going awefully slow. By the end of the day Stephen was in a furious mood! He couldn’t catch the bus because of the Cosatu strike so he had to walk ten kilometres before a car pulled over to give him a ride.

Much to his surprise, it was his older sister, Thuli, behind the front wheel.

“Where’d you get the new wheels?” he asked.

“My new boyfriend decided to be nice to me,” she smiled at him.

“New boyfriend? What happened to the other one?”

“He wanted something that I wasn’t prepared to give.”

“So who’s the new guy?”

“My boss’s nephew. We actually met without knowing who each other was and all that, but in the end it works out for the best. But what’s up with you? You look ‘n bietjie preoccupied.”

“Ja hey. The day’s just not going my way,” and so he launched into a speech all about the projects he had piling up, the teachers giving him hell for his hair and everything else that was weighing in his mind – except what he had seen with Luvengo.

“You know Stephen,” said Thuli after his rant, “maybe you should consider taking a break once in a while. You’re always looking after everyone else’s problems, when really you need to concentrate on your own.”

“You know, sissie, I think the studying you’re doing at that university might actually be working; you can tell me what to do now without even raising your voice!”

“Ja, but I’m afraid that if I don’t raise it, you won’t follow my advice!” laughed Thuli. Stephen laughed as well.

He enjoyed the time with his sister – it felt almost as if he was a normal boy again, but then Thuli was on her way to her apartment and he was home, their family couch groaning with only a few springs under him. He flipped on his side light, picked up the remote from the arm of the couch and switched the TV on. His glazed eyes only just took in what they were seeing; his brain was too busy with other thoughts. Even his daily soap opera couldn’t keep his attention. Eventually he sighed and took out some of his maths homework.

If the hypoteneus of this right-angled triangle equals 36 and the two other angles are equal to each other, what are the sizes of the two other sides?

The maths question seemed easy enough; the answer was 6, but now he had to show how he got that. He had just scrabbled out a blue pen and was about to write the first line of equation when it happened: with a soft whoosh, the light and the TV both went out. In fact, the entire neighbourhood was coated in darkness. Stephen gripped his pen so tightly he heard it crack down the centre.

“Bloody LOAD SHEDDING!” he heard his next door neighbour yell. He didn’t really understand why the people around him were getting so upset; the electricity that they received was hotwired from the nearest electricity pole, and so they didn’t even pay for the power that they so greedily guzzled. None the less, he couldn’t help but agree; load shedding was a load of rubbish! Now how was he going to do his homework? By candlelight? Hell no!

Instead, he fumbled as he put his books away and then carefully made his way out the house. The sky was brightly lit by hundreds of stars, but their light was faded by a thick cloud of smoke. He looked around his neighbourhood. Yes, he did live in government housing, but other than having a roof over their heads, the township wasn’t much better than the shacks just a little way off. The puffs of grey were issuing from many of the houses and there was a large fire in one of the recycle bins; someone had obviously set all the paper in it alight. Many kids had gathered round and were hogging the warmth of the fire. Stephen had to admit, it was rather cold.

He moved off to join them and saw some of the boys playing sevens with a pair of large dice. He watched for a while as they each made their bets, a small pile of bronze money lying on the floor that they were all betting for. What would happen to these kids? He wondered. How would they turn out? Like him, or like his brother? He didn’t have to think very hard – they would probably all turn out like his brother...what a shame.

He stalked the aisles of the township for an hour, rolling things around in his head, but over all he gave up with thinking and headed home. A light flickered to life just as he entered his house; the power was back on. With a guilty look at his schoolbag, he headed straight for bed – staying up would just make his head feel worse.

Sometime around midnight he heard his step-father come home. He heard his drunken body stumble, fall, and then retch. When the morning would come, Stephen would be the only one up and he would have to clean up the mess before his mother woke up. He carried on listening to the sounds of his step-dad as he pulled his way up the stairs and entered his mother’s bedroom. Love wouldn’t describe the sounds that he heard next; more like a drunken rape. Why his mother was still with that jerk was beyond him. You’d think that after her first mistake – Stephen’s father – she would have had the sense to choose better the second time, but instead she had fallen into the same pit and married the next worse thing to a gambler; a drunkard.

The moans of pain and pleasure had drifted off through the night just as Stephen drifted off to an unsettled sleep.