by Zakes Mda
Summer days are not in any particular hurry to go anywhere. Saluni grows impatient and decides to wear her coat irrespective of what the weather says. She is wearing it this Sunday morning as she sits on a rock like a basking naiad, her feet playing with seaweed in the water. The Whale Caller sits behind her on another rock. There are no whales in sight, which makes the morning even more pleasant for Saluni. The air from the sea is hot and humid.
“Perhaps you should give it a rest, Saluni,” says the Whale Caller. “I can imagine how much you are sweating under that coat.”
Saluni can think of a few choice words to hurl in his direction, but in the spirit of the new attitude she decides against it. She just hums softly to herself and continues her game with the seaweed. This emboldens him enough to voice another criticism: “You know, Saluni, some poor animal had to die for you to look beautiful like that?”
“They die every day, man… the animals… they die so we can eat them or wear them as shoes. So why not wear them as fur coats? Some are killed by you, man. What do you do with the fish that you catch? Fondle and caress and kiss them and then throw them back into the sea?”
“It’s all thanks to you, Saluni. I was satisfied with my macaroni and cheese.”
“Haven’t I heard that somewhere before? You were satisfied with your life full stop. But now you are not just satisfied. You are happy. You were never happy until I came into your life.”
He is digesting this, repeating the word “happy” twice or thrice. Saluni walks out of the water and joins him on his rock. She holds his hand.
“Yes, you are happy… very happy! You are just not aware of it. We are both very happy.”
This scares the Whale Caller, but he tries to be brave about it. If this be happiness, then he will face it like a man. He will face the sickness, for clearly it is happiness’s bedfellow. He sees Lunga Tubu hopping about from rock to rock without a care in the world. He feels sorry for him: one day he will grow up into a man and some woman will make him sick with happiness. That’s a man’s lot. The cross that he has to bear with fortitude. He is coming towards them, Lunga Tubu. The Whale Caller wonders why. The logical thing to do would be to avoid them … to give Saluni’s mothering tendencies as wide a berth as possible. But here he comes and stands in front of them and greets them, politely calling them “aunt” and “uncle.” He looks relieved that Saluni does not make any attempt to mollycoddle him.
“He has returned, Aunt Saluni,” says Lunga Tubu. “The radio man is back.”
“Has he brought the CDs?” asks Saluni, jumping up, grasping the boy by both shoulders and shaking the information out of him.
“Yes, he has brought some CDs,” says Lunga Tubu, “and he wants to see you. He is at the Seacrest Hotel in Seventh Street.”
Saluni looks at the Whale Caller triumphantly: “You didn’t believe he would return, did you? You thought he was a scoundrel who had run away with our voices.”
“I never said anything like that, Saluni.”
“You didn’t say it but you thought it. One only had to look at your face to see that you were questioning my credentials as a star. Now what do you say about it, man? A big-time agent wants to see me … at a hotel. What do you say about that?”
“I say go for it, Saluni,” says the Whale Caller, pretending some enthusiasm.
There may be something in this whole business after all. Otherwise why would the radio man come all the way from Cape Town? But if Saluni does go, what will happen to him? How is he going to live without Saluni? And if she does become a star she will surely forget about him. He can’t leave Hermanus. He can’t follow Saluni to Hollywood. He will be out of place there without the sea and the whales and the seagulls and the hot smells of rotting kelp and the salt air brushing against his silver grey beard and the southeaster lashing against his body and the Wendy house and Hermanus.
Under his breath he curses the radio man. But he offers: “I will go with you to the hotel, Saluni.”
“Me too,” says Lunga Tubu.
Saluni lifts her fur coat to her shoulders and runs up the cliff path. She is closely followed by the Whale Caller, who is closely followed by Lunga Tubu. They race along the path until it joins Main Road. They turn right into Main Road, winding with it towards the Mossel River. But before they can cross the bridge she stops, perhaps to catch her breath. They all stop.
“That’s better, Saluni,” says the Whale Caller. “You don’t want to be all sweaty and breathless when you reach the hotel. I think you should take it easy, Saluni.”
“Why don’t you tell the truth, man,” says Saluni. “You just can’t keep up.”
“You stopped first, Saluni. Not me.”
She stopped because she’s just had a brilliant idea, she says. She must go to the mansion and get the Bored Twins and their parents to come with her to meet the radio man. When the mother hears the radio man outlining the big plans for their stardom and when she listens to the wonderful CD, she will finally get over her concerns. She will let the girls go off to conquer the world.
“But you said the parents spend all day away from the mansion,” says the Whale Caller.
“Why do you always want to come up with some obstacle, man? Don’t you want me to be a star?”
“I do, Saluni. I do. It’s just that I don’t want you to go all the way to the mansion only to find that the parents are not there.”
“If you had any good intentions you would have imagined that they are there since it is Sunday morning.”
She turns and takes a westerly direction and follows Main Road out of town. She walks very fast, sometimes breaking into a run. The man and the boy do likewise, until they reach the mansion. As good fortune would have it the donkey cart is parked outside. The father appears from around the corner pulling a donkey by the leather strap of its bridle. He is harnessing it to the cart when Saluni and her entourage arrive.
“There is no rest for the hungry,” he tells his visitors. “We are going out to collect bones and scrap metal.”
Saluni explains their mission. She confesses that during the Kalfiefees she took the girls to town to record. Now the radio man is back with the CD. The father must convince his wife to come and meet the radio man and listen to the CD. She outlines to the man the significance of this great event and the financial rewards that the family will reap. Saluni’s description of the beckoning stardom is so vivid that the man can see banknotes floating in front of his eyes. But he knows that when his wife hears that Saluni defied her and took her daughters to town, she will be so wrathful that no promises of lucre will make her go to the hotel to meet the man she believes is a thief of voices.
“Don’t tell her about it yet,” says Lunga Tubu. “Let it be a surprise.”
“You are a sly one,” says the Whale Caller. “It might just work. Just tell her that before you go to collect bones and scrap metal you must meet a man in town who may have an interesting business proposition for you.”
“At least now you two are becoming helpful instead of putting obstacles in my way,” says Saluni, obviously pleased with the suggestion. “We need the girls too, man. They must hear their CD. Come with the girls.”
“And how do I explain that to my wife? No, Saluni, you are asking for too much now,” says the father as he walks into the house.
After a few moments he returns with the mother. They all ride on the donkey cart to town. After crossing the Mossel River bridge into the suburb of Voelklip where the hotel is located, Saluni takes out a compact mirror from her sequinned handbag and looks at herself. She rearranges her hair. She applies a little blusher, some lipstick and mascara. She brushes her fur coat with her hands for any speck of dust that may have the temerity to sit on it.
The receptionist phones the radio man and he swaggers down from his room. He is taken aback to see the motley crew. After the introductions and assurances from Saluni that everyone present has a vested interest in the business at hand (which continues to remain nameless for th
e mother’s sake) he invites them to his room.
“Where are the girls?” the radio man asks when everyone is settled on his bed, on the dressing table stool and on the two easy chairs.
“Girls?” asks the mother, becoming suspicious. “What girls?”
“The singing girls, of course,” says the radio man. “Saluni and the Bored Twins!”
“They can’t make it today,” says Saluni. “Their parents are representing them. We just want to listen to the CD and hear your plans for making us international stars.”
The radio man gets agitated. He screams: “I need those girls here… now!”
Everyone is puzzled by this sudden loss of temper.
“Calm down, man,” says Saluni. “Just play us the CD.”
“It didn’t work,” says the radio man. “Something I can’t understand happened.”
He takes out a CD from his bag and plays it on a portable machine on the bedside table. The voices of the Bored Twins are distorted. Saluni’s voice comes out clearly in its richness, but the girls’ voices are unrecognisable. They sound like mating cats. The mother angrily turns to the father: “And you knew all this?”
“I only knew this morning,” says the father. “These people deceived me too. They came this morning with their story.”
“I swear I don’t know what happened here,” says the radio man. “I came back to arrange for a new recording. It was wonderful when I was listening to the three of you. I sound-engineered the recording myself and everything was wonderful. I am just as mystified as you are that the CD came out this way. I want to take Saluni and the Bored Twins to a proper state-of-the-art recording studio in Cape Town.”
“Not my children!” the mother bursts out. “They are not going to Cape Town. They are not going to record their voices ever again.”
“But, please, you can’t do this to your children,” Saluni appeals.
“I do not want to have anything to do with you, Saluni,” cries the mother. “Do not talk to me. I do not want to see you near my children ever.”
“If you want to be that spiteful, then you can stay with your children, man. I am going to the recording studios in Cape Town. I am going to be a solo act.”
“I can’t record you on your own, Saluni,” says the radio man. “The girls are the main attraction, not you. If they are not part of this, then there is no deal.”
This hurts Saluni deeply. She looks at the Whale Caller to see if he is gloating. He is not. His head is bowed in embarrassment on her behalf.
“I really don’t know how this happened,” the radio man keeps repeating.
“I told you so,” says the mother, glaring at Saluni. “You are fortunate that the machine failed to steal their voices. It tried and failed. That is why the voices on the recording didn’t come out right. They sound like the voices of ghosts. You nearly destroyed my kids. They should just be happy that they still have their beautiful voices.”
She leaves the room in a huff and her husband follows her. They climb onto their donkey cart and ride away. Saluni tries to plead with the radio man to give her a chance but he is adamant that he would not be able to sell her act. He brutally tells her that there is nothing special about her singing. She has the kind of voice that one can hear in any tavern across the country. The Bored Twins were the act he was really interested in. Sooner or later he would have discarded Saluni for the Bored Twins. They would be a successful international act without her rough voice to mess up their angelic voices.
This is too much for the Whale Caller. He smashes his huge fist into the face of the radio man, who goes crashing to the floor. He lies there seeing multicoloured stars. The Whale Caller grasps Saluni’s and Lunga Tubu’s hands and leads them out of the room and away from the hotel. As they walk along Seventh Street back to the Old Harbour area the Whale Caller expresses his regret that he had to resort to violence. He keeps repeating that he never wanted to hurt anyone.
“Stop whining, man,” says Saluni. “That bastard deserved it. You are the man, man. You don’t let anyone mess with your woman.”
The whole town is excited about the eclipse of the sun, but not Saluni. People are buying dark glasses that will enable them to look at the eclipsed sun. Those who cannot afford the expensive glasses that have been made especially for looking at the sun make their own by blackening glass with fire and smoke. Others look for old negatives of photographs, which are also reputed to be effective in protecting the eyes from the wrath of a sun that is being upstaged by an impertinent moon. When the eclipse happens later in the day they will be ready. Everyone knows that only a fool would look at the eclipse with naked eyes, for that is a surefire way of inviting blindness.
Saluni does not participate in the eclipse madness. Her dreams of Hollywood have been crushed and for days now she has been nursing her bruised feelings. She sinks into the silence of depression. The Whale Caller tends to her and feeds her. She does not care about civilised living anymore. She drinks broth from a mug and survives on that. Then she explodes into a rage, walking up and down Main Road cursing aloud at all those who have betrayed her in the past and those who intend to do so in the future. She counts the whales, particularly Sharisha, among those who will have their day of reckoning sooner than they realise. Days of silence alternate with days of rage. Days of silence fill the Whale Caller with sadness because she becomes such a pitiful figure. At least rage becomes her. Self-pity drains all dignity out of her. The Whale Caller understands that there is nothing personal about these mood swings. He blames it all on the radio man, and this salves his conscience a little for hitting him.
This morning of the eclipse he busies himself with preparing a glass for looking at the sun. At first he hopes the dark brown beer bottles will do the trick. But then he decides it will be much safer to do the tried and tested—he breaks a cold drink bottle and coats it with an even black layer from burning papers just outside the Wendy house. Saluni is standing at the door in her fur coat and red pencil-heel shoes, watching him mournfully.
“I am going to make one for you too, Saluni,” he says.
“I don’t care about it, man.”
“It is a wonder of nature, Saluni. You will see; it will make you feel better. And they say it is going to be a total eclipse this time… just after midday. Hermanus will fall into darkness.”
“I just can’t work myself into an orgasm over darkness, man,” she says, and walks into the house. “I am going to bed. Switch on the lights if your damn eclipse comes while I am asleep.”
His heart bleeds for her. It does become worse when she doesn’t lash out at the world… when the storm rages silently inside her. But there is nothing he can do about it. He has tried to comfort her, to tell her that another radio man—one who will be smart enough to recognise her true talent without the Bored Twins—will come one day. But she only stares at him as if she does not really believe him … as if it does not matter anymore … as if she has resigned herself to a fameless life.
“I am going down to the sea, Saluni,” he says through the doorway. “I’ll be back before the eclipse.”
She does not respond. Maybe she is already napping. All the better if she is because he will feel less guilty about leaving her in this state. But he desperately needs some respite from her sullen-ness.
He finds Sharisha and the child in the blue depths off the peninsula. She seems to be teaching the young one how to use the baleen to sieve prey from the water. Or perhaps they are just competing in some whale game that the Whale Caller has never seen before. He has not brought his kelp horn this time, so he just sits on a rock and laughs at their antics.
All of a sudden the game stops and Sharisha rallies protectively to the young one. She has fixed her eyes on the crag behind the Whale Caller. He turns to look up and sees Saluni walking gracefully in her stilettos and fur coat down the concrete cliff path. Sharisha starts to sail away but changes her mind and moves in towards the peninsula.
“You should have seen the
m, Saluni,” says the Whale Caller. “They were having so much fun.”
“What kind of a man are you? You can see that I am not well and yet you leave me for these stupid whales.”
“You said you were going to sleep, Saluni. What went wrong? You were not bothered about them anymore. You promised we would not fight over Sharisha again.”
“Obviously you took advantage of that. From now on it’s either the fish or me.”
She tries to shoo Sharisha away, but the whale holds its own. It bellows deeply. It sounds more like a groan. This worries the Whale Caller. He has never seen Sharisha like this; furiously blowing and sending tremors under the water that reach the rocks of the peninsula. She seems to be gearing for a fight. If only he had brought his kelp horn with him he would have calmed her with the tune she knows so well.
“We must go home now,” says Saluni.
“We can’t leave Sharisha like this. There is something wrong.”
“Every time it is Sharisha this, Sharisha that!”
She races to the edge of the peninsula. The Whale Caller now knows that she came especially to pick a fight with Sharisha. Under the fur coat she wears nothing but her God-given skin, making her intentions very clear: she intends to flash Sharisha to death. She opens the coat, raises her leg and screams: “Take that, you foolish fish!”
But Sharisha has decided to assert herself. She does not budge. She stares Saluni straight in the eye. She does not look scandalised as she usually does when Saluni moons or flashes her. She looks defiant. Instead it is the Whale Caller who looks scandalised.
Saluni tries again. She opens her coat, raising the other leg and shouting: “You take that, stupid fish!” And then moving from one leg to the other in a frenzied dance, all the while opening and closing the front of her coat and screaming: “And that! And that!”
