by Paige Nick
Benjamin Di Rosi Things at work are very stressful right now. I’ve been there for seven years and I’ve put so much effort and passion into it, but I’m not sure it’s going to work out.
Lydia Steenberg Oh I’m so sorry, Benjamin. It sounds like you work very hard, and take your job really seriously.
Benjamin Di Rosi There were rumours today that they’re planning more cutbacks and retrenchments down the line, and if I’m being honest, I must say I’m concerned.
Lydia Steenberg Oh how awful. What is it that you do?
Benjamin Di Rosi I head up the sales department for a dental corporation. You wouldn’t have heard of us. We supply dental equipment and cleaning products directly to the industry, dentists, orthodontists, that kind of thing.
Lydia Steenberg That sounds interesting. You sound very important and also very dedicated. I’m sure your family is very proud of you. And that company would be crazy not to keep you on.
Benjamin Di Rosi I hope so. It feels out of my control at this stage. But the real problem is all this stress – it’s a big trigger for me. I’m permanently hungry and not making the best food choices. Over the last little while I’ve been putting all the weight I fought so hard to lose back on.
Lydia Steenberg Oh no, Benjamin. I totally understand what you’re going through. Modern living is very stressful. Whenever I’m in that kind of situation, I always think, WWTND. I even had it engraved on a bracelet a while ago so I can look at it whenever I’m feeling weak. Just looking at it always makes me strong again. Although I did eat three Romany Creams with my tea tonight, but I think that’s understandable under the circumstances.
Benjamin Di Rosi Of course it is! You poor thing. But what is WWTND? Is it the same as BPC? Cos I tried that and I must say, I didn’t like it very much.
Lydia Steenberg lol, sorry, I’m not laughing at you . . . it’s not Bullet Proof Coffee (Yum, I love it, have you tried it with an egg broken into it? Maureen has a great recipe for it with her meal plans.) No, WWTND is What Would Tim Noakes Do?
Benjamin Di Rosi Ohhhh lol, yes that makes more sense.
A raw egg in coffee! Yuck!
Lydia Steenberg It’s nicer than it sounds. And if WWTND doesn’t work for me, then I think WWMMEMPD.
Benjamin Di Rosi Wow, that’s a long one, I’m not sure you’d be able to fit that on a bracelet. What does that mean?
Lydia Steenberg Ha ha ha, that’s ‘What Would Maureen’s Marvellous ENDORSED Meal Plans Do.’ J Did you get in touch with her yet?
Benjamin Di Rosi No, but I will try do it tomorrow. I feel so much better after talking to you. Thank you.
Lydia Steenberg Thank you. It’s nice talking to you too. You’ve cheered me up no end, I hope I’ve done the same for you?
Benjamin Di Rosi You really have. I was feeling so bleak and hopeless and having the most awful thoughts, and feeling constantly hungry, but I’m feeling better now, thank you. All right, I’d better get back to work, I’m still at the office and it’s late, I need to just wrap up here, and then I can head home. Is it okay if I message you again in the morning?
Lydia Steenberg I’d like that. Just remember, WWTND. And also don’t worry too much about work, you’re an asset and they’re lucky to have you. Chat tomorrow.
Benjamin Di Rosi Thank you again. And be strong, I’m sorry about Ginger Mary, am thinking of you and sending strength. My Silas sends condolences too. Night, night.
THE HIJACKERS
Wednesday 10:15pm
‘. . . I love you more than Chicken Licken.’
. . .
‘I love you more than Carling Black Label.’
. . .
‘I love you more than my mama’s pap and my Converse takkies,
Zuki my baby,’ Thabo crooned into the phone.
Papsak pulled the hood of his sweater over his face and groaned, then made vomiting noises.
‘I promise I’ll come visit you soon-soon, my baby.’
. . .
‘No, I promise.’
. . .
‘I’m not just saying it.’
. . .
‘I’ll come pick you up in my gusheshe.’
. . .
‘I know you want me to come now, but I can’t. I’m very busy working at work.’
. . ..
‘But I have to work, you want me to make money don’t you? Then I can buy you anything you want.’
. . .
‘Yes, even a cell phone.’
. . .
‘Yes, of course with unlimited airtime.’
. . .
‘No, I love you more.’
. . .
‘No, I love you more.’
. . .
‘No, you put down the phone first.’
. . .
‘No, you put down first.’
. . .
‘No, you.’
. . .
‘No, you.’
. . .
‘Okay, my sugar la-ding ding, we’ll both put down together . . . one, two, three. . .’
. . .
‘I can also still hear you breathing.’ Thabo burst out laughing.
Papsak grabbed the phone out of Thabo’s hand and cut off the call.
‘Hey, what did you do that for?’ Thabo yelled.
‘We’ve been driving around for hours now, it’s late and I’m tired, and Uncle Mlungu is starting to smell. He’s going to ruin the seats at the back of our gusheshe. When are we going to dump him so we can go home? Mama is going to be worried if I’m not home again tonight.’
‘Okay, Paps, let’s keep driving and see if we can’t find somewhere deserted. How much more money have you got? We’re running low on petrol.’
THE CO-AUTHORS
Wednesday 10:19pm
‘Hello, Cyril speaking.’
‘Cyril, it’s Shaun Thomas.’
‘Oh, hello Shaun. I’m so sorry to hear about the Prof.’
‘Thanks, but I called because there’s something I need to talk to you about.’
‘Is everything okay?’
‘I’m sorry to have to do this to you, but I think you ought to know. If I was in your position, I would want to know.’
‘What? You’re making me nervous, Shaun. Have you been drinking?’
‘You know how you thought Xolisa was staying over at her sister’s place last night, and a few times every week for the last month or so?’
‘Yes?’
‘She wasn’t.’
‘What on earth do you mean?’
‘Don’t be so naïve, Cyril.’
‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘She was right about you, Cyril, you are an idiot.’
‘Now you wait a damn. . .’
‘Wake up and open your eyes. I’ve been fucking your wife behind your back for weeks.’
‘You fucking a...’
But there was a beep, beep, beep, and Cyril was left with nothing but the dialing tone.
THE HIJACKERS
Wednesday 10:27pm
‘Thabo, brother, look at this, I can’t believe it!’ Papsak shrieked.
‘What? Did you find money for petrol?’ Thabo asked, craning to see what Papsak had found in the cubbyhole of the gusheshe.
‘No, something much, much better,’ Papsak said, dangling a small bank bag that contained marijuana and a packet of Rizlas in front of Thabo’s face. ‘Lefty must have missed it.’
‘Or forgotten it.’
‘Maybe it was on his blind side.’
The two men roared with laughter, then fist-bumped.
‘You drive, I’ll roll,’ Papsak said. ‘Find us somewhere we can park.’
‘But what about Uncle Mlungu?’
‘He ca
n’t have any.’
THE COP
Wednesday 10:59pm
‘Felicia, I can’t sleep with you crying like that, and I really need to get some rest,’ Bennie September said, patting his sobbing wife gently on the arm.
‘I’m sorry, Bennie, but I just can’t believe he’s dead.’ Felicia wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her nightie.
‘Sweetie, I know it’s sad that Professor Noakes has gone, but you didn’t even know him.’
‘Well, I feel like I know him, okay! He changed my life. Plus I once saw him at the coffee shop at Palmyra Junction, you know?’
‘So you’ve said, about a billion times.’
‘He looked so kind, nê, the way he was stirring his coffee.’ Felicia started sobbing again. ‘Promise me you’ll catch the bastards who did this, Bennie! Swear to me!’
‘I’m going to do my best, sweetie. But I can’t do my job if I don’t get any sleep.’
‘Promise me!’ Felicia sobbed. ‘Cross your heart and hope to die.’
‘Felicia, come now, I promise, I’ll try my hardest.’
His wife blew her nose loudly, then sank back into her pillows, and heaved a few more sobs. Then sighed heavily, and a minute later her breathing slowly started to even out until she was snoring.
‘Great!’ Bennie sighed under his breath. How was he going to get to sleep now? He didn’t sleep a wink last night because of the murder – and then the fucking hijacking and the missing body. He couldn’t go another night without sleep – he’d be a mess tomorrow. God help him if he ever told his charming, dainty wife that she snored like a two-stroke chainsaw. He’d considered recording her on his cell phone one night and making her listen to the proof, but he’d always chickened out in the end. Here he was, a cop who dealt with some of the nastiest pieces of human shit this country managed to produce, and yet he was still too scared to tell his wife she snored.
How did she do that, he wondered? She could be awake one second, and fast asleep the next. It drove him nuts. Ooh. Nuts. He rubbed his stomach, then sat up, slipped his feet into his blue stokies and padded down to the kitchen. He stood staring into the fridge and rubbed his stomach again. He scooped up a handful of something green and sniffed at it. Ugh, kale.
Bennie shuffled into the garage, unlocked his car and felt under the passenger seat for the cardboard Pick ’n Pay box, just in case he’d left an uneaten donut behind by accident. Fat chance: the box was empty, not even crumbs left. He spotted a green jelly baby in the footwell of the car on the driver’s side. Leaning in, he picked it up, wiped the fluff off of it and popped it in his mouth. Standards had dropped drastically.
THE CEO
Wednesday 11:41pm
‘Don’t turn around,’ Trevor quavered. ‘Don’t look at me. Just keep
drivin’, mate.’
‘What’s wrong with your voice?’ asked the taxi driver.
‘It’s my accent, it’s cockney,’ Trevor said.
‘You’re from a place called Cock?’
‘No, it’s . . . never mind. Look, they told me at the taxi rank that if I needed somefing taken care of, you’re the man, innit?’
Trevor’s voice wobbled. It had been bad enough, a white man wandering around a taxi rank late at night with a plastic bag full of cash, asking if there was someone who ‘sorted out problems’. The taxi driver he had been directed to certainly looked the part. He was huge, with what looked like ritual scars on his face. Probably some prison gang thing.
‘I can try to help you, brother. But you need to tell me more,’ said the taxi driver.
‘I ’ave the money ’ere, twenty up front, twenty later when it’s all been taken care of, plus all the information I could get me ’ands on about this person, name, number and so on. The one that needs taking care of. But there’s a small problem. . .’ Trevor blurted out.
‘What now?’ The taxi driver looked over his shoulder again.
‘Please keep your eyes on the road!’ Trevor yipped, forgetting his accent.
The taxi driver rolled his eyes, then turned to face the front again. They were driving slowly down a deserted road near the airport. A lone pedestrian tried to wave them down, then shouted something insulting as they barrelled past.
‘What problem?’ the driver asked.
‘I need this done urgently, sooner the better. But the bloke involved, ’e may not be so easy to track down. I ’aven’t been able to get hold of him on his cell phone. And also, well, he’s in the same industry as you.’
‘He drives a taxi?’
‘Not that industry, the other one.’
The taxi driver whistled.
‘Also, er, this problem guy, ’e might be in prison. But you got connections inside, right?’
Trevor passed the man his plastic bag with a shaking hand. The driver used his knees to steer as he flipped through the notes.
‘It’s all there,’ Trevor said. ‘You’ll get the rest when the thing has
been done. With a small bonus if you do it within the next twenty-four hours. My pager number is written on a slip of paper with the cash. Once you find him and “take care” of him, call me from his phone.
Then I’ll know for sure you’ve done it. That make sense?’
There was a long silence, then: ‘We have an agreement,’ rumbled from the front.
The taxi driver dropped Trevor at the airport – International Departures. Then he drove back to Khayelitsha praying for forgiveness for his sins. The stupid white man thought he could hire any old taxi driver to kill someone, and all because of that terrible Dewani thing, when some tsotsi taxi drivers had murdered a poor sweet Indian girl on her honeymoon, giving good taxi drivers everywhere a bad name. So perhaps God would forgive him for taking the stupid racist mlungu’s money. He’d nearly driven off the road when he’d seen the fat wad of R200 notes. But then he’d realised that Jesus was answering his prayers. He’d be able to get a new roof for Sis Sindiwe’s crèche for the orphans. And maybe he and the others of the Tabernacle Gospel House of Prayer could take the children to the sea for the day, fill up their tummies with fish ’n chips. And with whatever was left over he could buy some textbooks for the prisoners’ rehab programme he ran. He began to sing: ‘Hallelujah, I thank you Lord for stupid white men. . .’
Trevor hired another taxi from outside International Departures, this time a metered sedan, to drive him back into town. If he’d had his passport with him, he would have jumped on the next plane going anywhere and disappeared forever.
Twenty minutes later, the taxi dropped Trevor off at his car on Green Point Main Road. He crossed the road, looking lovingly at his Merc.
His life had taken a horrible turn for the worse. He was officially a murderer, a double murderer. He wondered if this made him a serial killer.
But he hadn’t had a choice in the matter, had he? If he didn’t do something, he would definitely lose his job. And if he lost his job, he would have to give up the penthouse and the Merc. And then he’d definitely never get a girlfriend.
Everything would be okay now, surely? Paying hitmen to rub each other out couldn’t be the worst thing, could it?
Trevor pressed the remote to unlock the Merc, then changed his mind and pressed the remote again to relock it. Then he walked into the twenty-four-hour KFC. His guilt and anxiety were chewing him up; he might as well return the favour.
THE FANS
Wednesday 11:32pm
THE BANTING FOR LIFE FACEBOOK PAGE
Herman De Laat
Hey everyone, I was just thinking how when you’re Banting everything changes. We even need new sayings, anyone have any suggestions for a new saying to replace “The best thing since sliced bread”?
My attempt: “The best thing since bacon snacks”.
Like 304
Annelize Van Tonder Best thing since biltong.
Siyamthanda Sekota Best thing since psyllium husk. J
Like 2
Tina Zylstra Best thing since Tim Noakes.
Like 1040
Anton Norris How about the worst thing since Tim Noakes! What a
bunch of fatty fools you all are, taken in by a charllatan. Your lucky he’s
dead, otherwise he would have brought out another book in a years time
to pick you’re pockets again, about how carbs are the new salad or some-
thing like that!
Like 2
Herman De Laat Have some respect, you idiot!
Like 1098
Siyamthanda Sekota What’s wrong with you, Norris, a great man has died, we’re all in mourning.
Like 1698
View 1107 more comments
THE CEO
Thursday 2:03am
Trevor tossed and turned, but even though he was achingly tired in every single joint, muscle and bone, it wasn’t the kind of tired that would let him sleep. It was three minutes past two, then fifteen minutes later it was only five minutes past two. He got up. There was no point lying there going mental doing ceiling duty.
