by Kurt Ellis
Captain took a sip of beer, staring at the group around him, some nodding, some uncomfortably averting their eyes. “Gents, we need to understand that we have to do it for ourselves. Before, we were too black to be white, now we’re too white to be black. Well, I say, fuck ’em all. We are who we are. We shouldn’t try to fit into their boxes.” He wiped a small amount of spittle from his lip. “It’s like coloured is a dirty word, ek sê. This so-called ‘coloured’ shit is bullshit.” Again he used his hands to make inverted commas. “How can we better ourselves if we don’t even acknowledge ourselves? Hey? And I’m not saying this cause I think we’re better than black people or better than white people. All I am saying is we’re different. Different doesn’t mean better. Different means different. If I don’t pay lobola or follow other black customs, how can I be black? At the same time, if I don’t follow white customs, then how can I be mlungu? Huh?”
Captain took another sip. “Ous, every culture started somewhere. Look at the Niggas in the States. They did not feel welcome there, so some came back to Africa, but they didn’t feel welcome here either, so they said, fuck it, we’ll start our own culture. And they did. And that is what we should do. We need to change our mentality. We still have that apartheid mentality. Where we feel like rejects. Like we’re not good enough. Like we are other. That needs to fucking end.” A small group of non-Godfathers slipped away from the group. “We need to stop waiting for people to give us scraps from their tables. We need to take what we need. That’s why I’m not asking any more. I am taking. Are we” – Captain gestured towards the Godfathers – “doing wrong? No doubt. We sell drugs. None of us grew up wanting to be gangsters and thugs. We wanted to be fucking astronauts, and lawyers and doctors. But your dreams die quickly in the sections, don’t they, ous? So we play the cards we were given, for now. But we will give back. We will go legit one day. That is the best way to tell everyone else to go fuck themselves. To tell them that we took the shit you gave us, and look at what we made.”
Captain finished the contents of his bottle and fought the urge to smash it against the wall. His hands were shaking with emotion. A mixture of passion, anger and sadness.
His diatribe was met with open jaws and silence, until Shivas smiled and said, “Okay, no more dop for Pastor Rhema here.”
They all laughed.
26
Kyle read the sentence, but he couldn’t absorb its meaning. So he read it a second time. But again the words failed to enter his brain. He gritted his teeth and sighed. He placed his copy of John Milton’s Paradise Lost next to him on the bed and stared at the ceiling. The music from the lounge was far too loud for him to be able to concentrate on his reading. The musical trio of Ray, Goodman and Brown were telling the entire street that they’d taken a dip in the pool of love.
“It doesn’t make sense,” Jimmy said, looking up from his notebook.
“Yes, it does,” Kyle said.
Jimmy was lying on his stomach on Captain’s bed, a soft-cover A4 book open in front of him and a copy of Othello in his hands.
He sat up straight to face his cousin. “Why can’t I just hire the movie and watch it?”
“Because you’ll miss some of the double meanings and hidden messages, Jimmy,” Kyle said calmly. “Don’t be lazy. Read the book.”
Kyle hid his annoyance as he spoke. How could he or Jimmy concentrate while Aunt May and her drinking party were making such a ruckus? He was tempted to give up all hope of reading that evening and go visit Amia. He had not seen her in at least a day. Far too long for his liking. A deep, raucous growl that emanated from his gut reminded him that he hadn’t eaten supper either.
“Think about it, Jimmy. What does the handkerchief symbolise to Othello?” he said as he got to his feet. “Why would Iago want it stolen?” He pulled aside the curtain that doubled as a door. “That is the answer.”
Kyle squeezed between the refrigerator and cupboard. The naked light bulb in the kitchen was far too bright and he found himself squinting. To his left, the lounge was empty – Aunt May and her friends chose to sit and drink on the verandah. There were two small pots on the stove. One was filled with putu. And the pot next to that was filled with a tomato and onion chutney. He was relieved that it was not tinned fish again.
A quick flash of movement in the corner of his eye startled him. He made his way over to the small kitchen window to investigate. He found Captain sitting on the hard cement floor in the dark, his back resting against the corrugated-iron storage shed that their grandfather had built when he’d lived on the premises. The same spot where their grandfather used to relax and smoke cannabis when he was still alive. Captain had his knees pulled to his chest, and his forehead rested on his forearms.
Kyle turned and walked out of the kitchen, past the curtain and the bathroom and out of the back door. He turned the corner. “Are you okay, cuz?” he asked.
Captain looked up with bloodshot eyes and gave him a timid smile. “I’ve been better. Just did a very stupid thing today. But other than that, I’m good.”
Kyle took a seat on the second step that led to Jimmy’s home. “What did you do?”
Captain grimaced. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Kyle nodded and looked away. Two moths were knocking into the window pane in an attempt to get into the kitchen, attracted by the bright light bulb.
“Is everything okay between you and Nazneen?” Kyle asked, not looking at his cousin.
Captain forced a laugh. “Well, that is another fucked-up situation … But that is a story for another time, ek sê.” He sighed. “Sometimes, I feel like you and I are the only people in this place who aren’t crazy. Like we’re the only people who can see the shit around us and who give a damn. Nobody else cares.”
“At least you see it. At least you care.”
“Yeah, but there is only so much I can do, bru.”
Kyle laughed. “You’re ridiculous, Anthony.”
“What are you on about?”
“Cuz, you have no idea how much everybody looks up to you. They look at you as their leader. The Godfathers will go to hell with a smile if you told them to, and it is not only the GFs, but everybody. If anybody can open people’s eyes, it is you.”
Captain sighed and buried his forehead back into his arms. Ray, Goodman and Brown gave way to Smokey Robinson crooning about the tears of a clown. “I killed Wesley today.”
Kyle shot to his feet. “What?”
“It was an accident,” Captain continued softly. “But I killed him.”
Kyle felt his stomach sink to his knees. “What happened?”
“The fucking idiot came at me with a knife.” Captain pulled down the collar of his shirt to show Kyle a freshly dressed wound. “I was defending myself.”
Kyle didn’t know what to say. He breathed in anger and exhaled concern. His emotions changed with each breath he took.
Captain added softly, “I had no choice.”
“Are you sure he’s dead?” Kyle asked. “Did you call the ambulance?”
“Spider sorted it all out.”
“Spider was there?”
Captain nodded. “So were Bruge and Wahied.”
“Fucking hell, Anthony. What have you done?”
“I fucked up, Kyle. I fucked up.”
“What are you boys up to?” Kyle jumped at the sound of his aunt’s voice. Aunt May was standing at the window, looking out at them, her dark, plump face moist with perspiration, her speech slurred. “You getting up to mischief, hey?”
“Nothing like that, Ma,” Captain said from the darkness.
“You hungry?” she asked them. “Come, I’ll fry some chops so you guys can have them with your putu and chutney. Where’s Jimmy?”
“In the room,” Kyle responded.
“Good. He must come eat.”
Captain got to his feet and dusted his hands off on his jeans. “Yes, Ma.”
27
She slapped him, hard. So hard, in fact, that his ears beg
an to ring. Captain was leaning against the bonnet of his car as he spoke to Nazneen outside her home in Rafferty Crescent. She had just become only the second person he had told about Wesley.
Two days had passed since he had killed Wesley, and yet he still could not believe what he had done. It had made the bottom right-hand corner of page four in the Daily News the day after it happened. It was reported as a robbery that had escalated into murder. In the last two days, though, he had seen maybe a single police car driving through the streets of Sydenham. Lazarus had moved quickly. It had cost Captain R20 000 to make it go away. Money he’d had to take out from his secret “Send Jimmy to University” fund. The guilt for having to tap into that money only made him feel worse.
Sleep had evaded Captain for the past two nights, and his head felt crammed with fatigue and regret. The only person he’d spoken to had been Kyle, and although Kyle had remained calm, he’d seen anger and disappointment in his cousin’s eyes.
“How could you have done that, Anthony?” Nazneen paced back and forth a couple of times. “How could you? You know nothing like that ever happened between Wesley and me. You were my first, Anthony. Don’t you believe me?”
Captain rubbed his forehead. “Naz, of course I believe you. I know nothing happened. But I could not just let it go. I had to defend you and …” Captain stopped himself. He did not want to make excuses for what he’d done. There was no excuse for his actions. “I didn’t mean to do it. It was a mistake. A terrible mistake. I’m sorry. I love you, baby.”
“Is this how you show you love me? By committing murder?”
“Fuck, man!” Captain was growing frustrated. He’d come here to tell her what he’d done, and perhaps to find someone who could forgive him. All he needed was someone to tell him that it was okay and that it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t want to be interrogated and questioned. “I fucked up, okay. I know I fucked up, and I have to live with what I’ve done. But I don’t need you to give me shit right now either. Things are already problematic between us at the moment.”
The instant the words left his lips, he regretted them. He braced himself for another slap.
Nazneen’s eyes widened and began to leak tears. “What do you mean? Do you think I want this? Do you think –”
“Whoa, wait, wait!” Captain couldn’t stand to see Nazneen cry. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I’m sorry.”
She hugged him back and he breathed in the scent of her hair and perfume. He looked down at her. “Have you decided when you want to go see the doctor?”
She shook her head and sniffed. “I’m too scared. I just keep hoping my period will come.”
Captain attempted a reassuring smile. “Look, I think it’s time that we go and get real confirmation here, Naz. Maybe we’re worrying over nothing, you know? I think we should go to the doctor and do a proper pregnancy test.” He held her tight. “Just tell me when you’re ready and we’ll go together. Okay?”
“Okay,” she replied. “Just hold me for now.”
Captain had held Nazneen in his arms for the last two years, and it had been a happy two years. He had never imagined he could love anyone as much as he loved her. She was his anchor. Even more, she was his port of safety, comfort and understanding. He remembered the first time he’d seen her, at a variety show and concert taking place at Sydenham Community Centre. He had been very drunk at the time. It had felt as if a dirty film of transparent tape was stuck over his eyes. He saw everything that night through blurred vision. Everything but Nazneen. Her striking red hair was like a savage blaze in the darkness as it burnt through his foggy sight. He had staggered up to her, brimming with confidence. After all, he was Captain – the Captain. He’d tossed out some of his best lines, and he was stunned when she responded with a barrage of insults.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” she’d said. “Kasam, you stink like a brewery. Get away from me.”
That had sobered him up almost instantly. She had stormed off, leaving him fuming with anger, and even more, squirming with embarrassment.
But he’d also felt something else at that moment. Intrigue. Sure, he was humiliated, but it had been a long time since anyone had taken a stand against him. He couldn’t stop thinking about the fire in her eyes as she’d given him the tongue lashing. The movement of her mouth when she spoke … And Captain had suddenly found himself smiling. Nazneen was very tall and her skin was very fair. She had the reddest freckles that peppered her smooth cheeks, and Captain thought they were beautiful. It made her different. It made her stand out from the crowd.
Captain ran after her that evening and humbly apologised for talking to her in an inebriated state. “It’s not right,” he had said. “I should never have approached you. I’m sorry.”
“Whatever,” she scoffed and looked away.
Captain couldn’t help but laugh.
She glared at him. “What are you laughing at?”
“Oh, I’m just thinking that when we kiss in two weeks’ time, we’re going to find this whole evening so funny.”
At first her eyes widened with astonishment, then they narrowed again, and she gasped. He could see her entire body shaking with anger. She spun on her heel and strode off.
Nazneen later confessed to Captain that it was that bold statement of his that had intrigued her as well.
He managed to get her phone number from someone at the show and he called her up the next day. She hung up on him. He called her back the next day, and this time she scolded him before hanging up. The next day she gave short, curt responses to his attempts to start a conversation. But he called her back the next day. Then the next and the next after that, until she finally agreed to meet him at the Wrap-it-Up Café.
As they spent more and more time together, he became more enthralled with her. And when their lips met for the first time – exactly two weeks later, as he had predicted – Captain knew he had found a wonderful partner. He loved her. She loved him. She was everything he ever wanted, except for one thing – she was Muslim and he was Roman Catholic.
At first, this was not a problem, as they were just too dizzy with love to care about something as trivial as religion. But as their relationship grew and their love deepened, the obstacle of religion became more and more imposing. They spoke of marriage, young as they were. He wanted to make her his wife. He wanted to fall asleep with her in his arms every night, and to wake and look into her face every morning. But in order to do that, one of them would have to convert.
Lord knew, he was nowhere near to being a good Catholic, but he could never convert. Despite all he did, he still believed in Jesus and his faith. He had nothing against Islam at all, but he just did not want to lose his name, and his identity. He could not turn his back on the Jesus his grandfather had so believed in. (To deny his father, and refuse his name, as Kyle once said.) It did not feel right to him, but in the same breath, neither did losing Nazneen. His mind had been a battleground for the last two years. And now, Nazneen was pregnant. And in tears as they stood there holding each other in the street.
He whispered into her ear, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Why don’t we just run away from here?” he proposed. “You know, get married in court. We go to Cape Town, or Joburg. And you stay who you are, I stay who I am, and we live happily ever after.”
She took her head off his chest and looked him in the eyes. “You know why. I don’t want that. I don’t want a home without God. I want to be married in the eyes of Allah. Besides, what about our baby? What will our baby be, Christian or Muslim? Do you want your child to be Muslim?”
Captain squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw. “I want my baby to have what I always wanted. I want my kid to know what it is like to wake up at five o’clock on Christmas morning, and run downstairs to see a massive tree with presents underneath it.”
She buried her head back into his chest and wept bitterly, and Captain fe
lt tears leak from his eyes.
“Shhh, babygirl, let’s not think about it now. Everything will work out. I promise. Everything will be fine.”
He felt as if he was lying. Deep down, he knew he probably was. But he held her as tightly as he could without hurting her, and he never wanted to let go. Ever.
28
Kyle took a deep breath. He pulled back the smooth cue slowly, then rammed it forward hard against the white ball. The ball whizzed across the green baize of the pool table, struck the yellow one-ball, which in turn struck a striped ball and bounced off the cushioned rim of the playing surface. Kyle had missed another easy shot, and Captain slowly shook his head and laughed.
“Bru, you couldn’t hit the floor if you fell on it,” Captain mocked. “You do know the object of the game is to get the balls in the hole, right?”
Kyle laughed as Captain circled the pool table to play his shot. “Well, what can I say? At least I make losing look good.”
Captain chuckled.
“And hey,” Kyle continued, “I just came from soccer training. So my legs are still stiff. That’s why you’re beating me.”
“Sure it is.”
Captain leaned over the table and smoothly stroked the ball into the pocket, as effortlessly as blinking. Kyle had never seen a more morose Captain than over the past few days. He knew that what had happened between Captain and Wesley was a cancer gnawing at the inside of his cousin’s belly. Even now, Kyle felt Captain’s smiles and jokes were forced. There was a constant, hushed whisper throughout Sydenham about the stabbing – a whisper that was kept hushed by Lazarus’s backing of Captain.
