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The Other Four

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by Nsununguli Mbo




  THE

  OTHER

  FOUR

  Also by Nsununguli Mbo

  Wrong Turn

  A Crisis Of The Heart

  The Five Litre Container

  The Basketball School

  The Missing Corpse The Village Doctor

  The Other Four

  NSUNUNGULI MBO

  Copyright © Nsununguli Mbo 2015 This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be learnt, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the author’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  ISBN: 1507899742 ISBN 13: 978-1507899748 For my family.

  I

  was standing on the bank of a dry stream near Tsebeyatonki village, and was just about to throw my knobkerrie at a fat rabbit that

  was disappearing behind a little bush on the other side of the stream, when someone shoved me hard, nearly tipping me over the bank of the stream. I broke the fall with my hands and quickly turned around to see who had shoved me. Glaring back at me were two of the ugliest and fattest men I’d ever seen in my life. Fat people like them, they must know how to sneak up on people really well for me not to have heard them approaching. But then the birds were too loud.

  One was fatter than the other, and the fatter one had a number of missing teeth, and wore a pair of baggy black bell-bottoms, a white tee shirt and one of those boots worn by soldiers.

  The other one was wearing a blue untucked shirt, a pair of khaki combat trousers, and gumboots. They both smelt of booze and sweat. I wielded my knobkerrie at them. They ducked and the one with missing teeth tripped and fell, and was stopped by a tree in the process. This got both of them angry, and the one with no missing teeth approached me despite the knobkerrie. I swung back the knobkerrie, preparing to get him on the head and knock him out cold, but the knobkerrie flew off my grip and fell into the stream.

  Bell Bottoms managed to get up and tumbled his way towards me, panting and pulling up his undersized pants at the same time, and, without giving me a chance to process what was about to happen, he slapped me hard on the left cheek and I saw stars. He bared his teeth like a dog and literally growled, hands made into fists. He bared his bloodied teeth and gums like a dog and got caught up in a bout of coughing in the process, which caused him to double over, making it very difficult for me to resist the temptation to kick him in the face or nuts. But then I dreaded what might happen if I took that route. Besides, Cargo Pants was standing behind me like bad news by this time, literally blocking ways of escape with his large body. The smell of a concoction of cheap booze and body odour was starting to make me feel nauseous.

  “Let’s take him,” said Cargo Pants to his buddy as he held my hands together behind me like a cop arresting someone while he removed a thin but strong colourful rope that was tied around his waist at the same time.

  I decided I might as well try my luck despite the odds being stalked against me: I flicked my head backwards and caught Cargo Pants right on the forehead. He yelped in pain and let go of my hands. Bell Bottoms tried to block my path, but I ducked and he fell. I could hear the both of them cursing as I took off. But I didn’t go far. I tripped and fell, and rolled into the stream. I feared I might have broken a bone because my left leg hurt so badly. I forced myself up all the same. I slipped off a little rock that was heavily infested with algae and landed on my back.

  Just as I was preparing to get up and continue running, I saw two pairs of eyes peeping down at me from up above, and a very familiar set of gums and teeth. I knew right then that there was no escape.

  I had just about to run down the stream when, to my utter surprise, Bell Bottoms managed to jump into the stream with ease and landed legs first right next to me. He tried to grab a little bite off my elbow, but the gums beat him to his own game and I felt no pain. Cargo Pants was watching from upstairs while his favourite vampire was trying to get something to eat. Realising a bite wouldn’t be as effective as he had thought, he sat on me and asked me to put my hands behind my back instead. I obliged. He got off me and found a similar rope to Cargo Pants’, except that Bell Bottoms’ had more yellow than green.

  He ignored me and pulled me down to a spot where the river bank lay lower. Cargo Pants followed up above and, when we got to the spot, Bell Bottoms let me go up first where Cargo Pants and his anger were waiting. As soon as he could reach me, Cargo Pants slapped me so hard on the side of the face I feared he may have punctured my eardrum. My left ear was left ringing away and everything sounded distant. I had a punctured eardrum when I was ten years old and the experience was unpleasant.

  Bell Bottoms was panting from all the work and there was blood on either corner of his mouth.

  “What are you guys doing?” I asked, spitting blood, unable to hide the annoyance in my voice. I would have fought back because I was much fitter than the two goons. But I didn’t want to take a risk just in case they had weapons of sorts hidden somewhere.

  They ignored my question.

  Bell Bottoms held me by the arms, and while doing so his rope snapped apart and I suddenly had free hands. I was about to use the hands on at least one of the goons when Cargo Pants noticed what had just happened and quickly held me by the legs and instructed Bell Bottoms to hold my arms so they could lift me up. As soon as they lifted me up, I kicked out. The kick got Cargo Pants in the face. He let go. Bell Bottoms got annoyed that Cargo Pants had let go. A fight nearly erupted between the two. But then Cargo Pants punched me in the face and Bell Bottoms spat gunk on my eyes as he let go of my arms. I fell. I got punched again, but this time on the back, by Bell Bottoms I think. Bell-Bottoms quickly tied my hands with a rope of some sort while the other held my legs.

  “What’s happening?” I said.

  No answer. Or maybe they were mute? Or maybe they were not from Botswana and hence couldn’t understand me? They didn’t look much like people from Botswana, particularly Bell Bottoms who was as dark as a donkey’s lips.

  “Who are you guys?”

  The answer came in the form of a slap across the cheek from Bell Bottoms. My hands now tied, Cargo Pants started blindfolding me with an old and smelly tee shirt he got from one of the pockets of his pants while Bell Bottoms tied my legs together before using a smelly sock as a gag. Fear coursed through me as I struggled to do the impossible: escape from this sudden imprisonment. I had always been a sweet fellow. Never hurt a human being in my life. I never offended anyone. Well, I’d had a few scuffles with my wife, but she can be a pain in the ass sometimes. So I just couldn’t understand why I was suddenly being kidnapped for that’s what I considered this to be.

  They shoved me towards a waiting van that I’d never seen before.

  “I think you got things mixed up guys. My name is Ngano. I’m sure I’m not the guy you’re looking for,” I hissed through the gag, but I don’t think they heard me because just then the door banged closed. I wanted to ask them many questions. Where the hell they were taking me to? Who the hell were they? What had I done to deserve this? But I couldn’t. The gag was biting into my mouth. My eyes hurt. The fear of death gnawed at me. These were brutal people who undoubtedly wouldn’t hesitate to kill me. But for what reason? I felt something warm trickling down my legs. Urine. My bowels were threatening to betray me too.

  The van smelt of human waste. There were other nauseating smells that I couldn�
��t place. Bound as I was, I rolled over to the corner of the van and resigned myself to fate.

  Dumani was drunk. So was Thabang, the bastard sitting next to him. The bell-bottoms Thabang was wearing made him even more annoying. They had holes where there should have been none. Dumani didn’t like Thabang, and he knew Thabang didn’t like him either. But they used to be close friends back in the good old days when booze was much cheaper and there was no AIDS. Then the friendship dissolved down the line and they became enemies. But because they always bumped into each other at the shebeens, they inadvertently became drinking buddies. They both survived on menial jobs. They always worked together because they had discovered that together they were a bomb; they always finished a job quicker.

  They grew up together. They were in the same class at Thogonkope Primary School. They were both bullies. Dumani got suspended just when he was about to sit for his Standard six exams after he broke the arm of one of the boys that used to sit at the front of the class so as to impress the teachers with the right answers. He came back after six months and had to repeat the year, but a few months later he had an altercation with Jason, his class teacher. Out of impulse, he beat Jason unconscious and this time he got expelled.

  He hung around for a little while, had a few fights with his parents, stole their cash and saved it. When he had enough savings, he took off to Lentsweng town where he lived with a strict aunt. She didn’t like him. Neither did he like her. But they had to live under the same roof because his mother had done her a big favour back when the aunt was stranded. He did a few casual jobs around, but always either got bored or fought with the boss. Dumani and Auntie Bettina were always fighting.

  Then he discovered booze. That’s when things started getting physical between Auntie Bettina and him. One day after having two cans of Black Label lager and a bit of weed, he came home to find auntie in a bad mood. She told him to clean his room and he broke her nose. She yelled and called the cops, and he spent the night in a Police cell. The following morning Auntie Bettina, nose bandaged and all, came to the Police station with his few belongings and told him she didn’t want to see him ever again. She didn’t press any charges, so he headed back to Thogonkope where he got addicted to shebeens.

  Then one day he was sitting at a shebeen, sharing a mug of strong hooch with an old woman, when a fight broke out between a young man and an old man. Luckily somebody interfered and broke up the fight. The fighters instantly became drinking buddies and shared some tobacco. That’s when Dumani realised the “old man” was in fact his old buddy Thabang. Alcohol had ravaged him and added at least twenty years to his looks. Two of his upper teeth were missing and he had a scar on his right cheek. He told Dumani he’d got expelled from school on the day of his Standard seven exams after he beat up the girl who was sitting next to him for refusing to let him copy the answers to the exam questions. Now two of his lower ones were missing too, although Dumani never bothered to find out how that had happened.

  Dumani had no driver’s licence. He had never had one, but he knew how to drive. That was the important thing. Right now he was driving while Thabang sat next to him munching on chicken feet. The van he was driving was making a lot of noise. That, combined with Thabang’s noisy chewing, was irritating Dumani. He was resisting the temptation to knock out Thabang’s remaining teeth. He didn’t think he would ever like Thabang. One of his wishes was to see Thabang with no teeth at all. He just wanted to finish the job they had been hired to do and go home, or else he would end up knocking out the rest of Thabang’s teeth.

  The path they were driving on was meandering and bumpy, threatening to give him diarrhoea. Yet Thabang still wouldn’t stop chewing.

  “Are you ever going to stop eating?” Dumani asked, annoyed.

  Thabang looked at him and smiled, exposing his terrible teeth and chewed bones sticking to the gums and the remaining teeth. The temptation to knock out the rest of his teeth grew intense.

  “You want some?” said Thabang, offering Dumani a half-eaten chicken foot.

  Dumani slapped the hand holding the chicken foot. The chicken foot in turn went spiralling out of the missing passenger window. Thabang looked at Dumani, mouth agape, shocked at what Dumani had just done.

  “What did you do that for?” said Thabang, sounding irritated.

  Dumani ignored him and increased the speed of the van. The van had never been able to increase its speed. Dumani knew that but he still pressed down on the accelerator, irritated and wishing he wasn’t with Thabang right this minute.

  “Why did you throw away my food?” said Thabang.

  Dumani ignored him. The next thing, Thabang slapped Dumani across the cheek. Dumani almost lost control of the van. It veered off the road, threatening to topple over. Dumani managed to regain control. Unable to control himself, he elbowed Thabang in the mouth. His wish partly came true: one of Thabang’s teeth fell out and landed on his lap. Thabang went mad when he saw it. He punched Dumani on the temple and the van nearly fell into a ditch, but Dumani managed to step on the brakes just as the left front wheel was about to roll into the ditch. He switched off the engine and got out.

  Thabang jumped out of the van too and charged at Dumani, ready for a fight.

  I heard a commotion. Then the van — or whatever the hell it was I had been dumped into — started shaking me around, throwing me all over the place. My knees got hurt in the process and nausea hit hard. What was going on? The van stopped. My heart increased pace. I was sure they were now going to kill me. I could hear them arguing but I couldn’t quite make out what the hell they were saying. Maybe fighting over who was going to kill me? But what had I done? I had never wronged anyone. I had always been a decent guy. Never hurt another human being. I’ve never stolen anyone’s beasts from snares. I always set my own snares and checked them every morning. I am an only child and I went to Tonota Brigade eight years ago, completed a building course with flying colours and was in demand locally. Once in a while I’d get a job in town, but the competition was stiff up there. Could these guys be rivals who had decided to take the competition to a new level by taking the law into their hands and eliminate competition?

  But they looked too dangerous to be builders. They looked like killers, which I was sure they were. That’s why they captured me. My bladder let loose once again, and my bowels came very close, but I managed to keep things under control.

  Thabang was very angry. He wasn’t going to allow a fool like Dumani do this to him and get away with it. Assaulting him like this, who the hell did he think he was? Thabang was bleeding from the mouth. His forehead was swollen. He kicked Dumani in the crotch and saw him fall into the ditch. Thabang jumped into the ditch and landed right on Dumani’s tummy. Dumani farted loudly and his eyes closed. Thabang was about to administer another blow — this time to the head — when he realised that Dumani wasn’t moving.

  “Dumani!” Thabang said, panicking. He had only wanted to hurt Dumani, not to kill him, but now…

  “Dumani,” he said again, shaking Dumani. There was the smell of shit, and Dumani was still not moving.

  “Oh, shit!” said Thabang, pacing around. “Oh, shit, what have I done? What have I done?”

  He wiped away tears. He’d just killed Dumani. The sentence for doing so in Botswana was hanging. There was no way he was going to hang. He shook Dumani. Dumani was limp. Dead, Thabang was sure.

  “Dumani, why are you doing this to me? Please wake up and let’s go,” Thabang pleaded, shaking Dumani harder. Dumani was still limp. Thabang was still bleeding from the mouth. It hurt really bad where his tooth just got knocked out. He took out his old Nokia, but wasn’t sure who he was going to ring. No reception. He tried to pull Dumani by the leg — he was going to throw him into the ditch and possibly bury him — but he was too heavy for him. Then he remembered.

  Every part of my body was hurting. I had never wished death on myself, but right now I was. But then I started thinking about my wife and my two children. A boy and a girl.
Josephine and Mmoloki. Mmoloki was ten and Josephine was five. Bright little things whose future looked good. No, I wasn’t going to let myself die.

  I could hear my captors fighting. They were hitting each other. Why was the other guy suddenly sounding panicky? Then there was silence. I heard twigs crunching under feet. The back of the van was thrown open and Bell Bottoms grabbed me by the arms and hauled me onto the ground. I landed on my head and for a minute there I thought I was going to pass out. The bastard kicked me in the head. I groaned.

  “You killed somebody!” the bastard said. I couldn’t reply. In fact, I was becoming short of breath. The sock was nearly choking me.

  “I’m calling the Police on you. You just killed my friend,” said the bastard as he untied my legs. “I’m going to untie your legs, beat you up for killing my friend, and then untie your arms before I call the cops.”

  I didn’t say anything. I let the bastard be; do whatever he wanted to do to me. As soon as he untied my legs, he carried out his promise. He kicked, hit and punched me until I was sore all over. It was just when I was feeling faint that he untied my arms and removed the gag. Through the blur I could see it was Bell-Bottoms.

  Though feeling faint, I was ready for him. The bastard seemed too drunk and too slow, so he wasn’t ready for my blow. I caught him on the right temple with a fist and he toppled over. While he was trying to get back on his feet, I kicked him in the crotch, squeezed his balls and punched him on the mouth. A tooth fell out. He screamed. I realised then that this wasn’t the first time he had lost a tooth. Teeth, in fact. Just then I noticed Cargo Pants lying on his back, bleeding from the head. Just as I was about to hit Bell-Bottoms again, Cargo Pants ground his teeth, turned over and farted. Two against one. No way was I going to stay for that. I took to my feet and headed into the bush.

  Dumani was having a dream in which he was having sex with his neighbour’s wife. He was just about to finish off when somebody shook him by the head and said, “Dumani, thank God you’re alive!”

 

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