gesels—chat, talk
graft, grafting—to work, working
grensvegter—a super-soldier, a Rambo type; literally, a border fighter
grob—rough, loud, unmannered
grot—an ugly woman
Group Areas Act—apartheid law segregating land use according to race
Habonim—Zionist youth movement
hardegat—a hardass, tough guy, rebel
headgear—tall frame that sticks up above a mine, with winch wheels on top; it powers the elevators, called skips, that are used to transport personnel and materials underground
hitsik—excitable, worked up, febrile
howzit—informal greeting
ibberbottle—senile
impimpi—a police informer
indaba—an affair or concern, also a conference
Isiqalo—the Beginning, the start of the violent uprising against apartheid in the black townships
jacks—caning, corporal punishment, strokes of the cane
Jarmans—brand of dress shoe
Jody Sheckter—South African auto racer, world drivers’ champion in Formula One
jol—a party, a good time; also to party or to play
kaffir—an extremely insulting term for a black person; derived from the Muslim term for non-Muslims
kaffirtjie—diminutive of kaffir
kaych—energy, power
kichel—a thin, crackly cookie made of flour, eggs, and sugar, usually served with chopped herring, sometimes liver
kiddish—the Jewish blessing before a meal; alternate pronunciation of kiddush
kieme—germs
kishkes—innards, guts
klaar—finished, done with
klup—hit or smack (both noun and verb)
koppie, koppies—small hill, hills, often rocky
kuk—shit; alternate spelling of Afrikaans word kak
kwela-kwela—literally, “climb up, climb up”; Zulu slang for police truck
lank—a lot, greatly, very much
larney—ritzy, fancy, well-off
lekker—awesome, amazing; also attractive, desirable
lesiba—a traditional African musical instrument using wind and strings
lighty—youngster, a junior rank; not necessarily disparaging
location—apartheid-era term for a racially segregated township
macher—a dynamic, important person
main manne—big shots, leaders, the gang in charge
Majuta—Jew, Jewish
mameloshen—Yiddish; literally, mother tongue
matla ke a rona—“victory is certain,” ANC rallying cry
matric—final year of high school, Standard Ten, also refers to an individual in Standard Ten
mayibuye iAfrika—“bring back Africa,” ANC rallying cry
Meccano —model construction toy
megillah—a long, complicated story; literally, a scroll
meshugenah in kop—mad in the head, completely crazy
mezuzah—a small object, usually a narrow tube or rectangle about five inches long, fixed to the doorpost of a Jewish home and containing a scroll with sacred verses
mielie—corn, often fresh corn on the cob
mielie pap—a staple dish made of cornmeal cooked to a fluffy white texture similar to mashed potatoes
minco—short for minimal coordination, as in very clumsy; a schoolyard insult on a par with spaz
MK—see Umkhonto we Sizwe
moer—to strike hard, to beat up
moerse—enormous, mother of all
mofi—insulting term for a male homosexual
morogo—a type of wild spinach
moshiach—the messiah
muchu—insane, berserk
mulet—madman, berserker
munt—highly insulting term for a black person
muti—traditional African medicines or magical charms
Mzabalazo—the freedom struggle or uprising against apartheid
naartjie—tangerine
Nats—National Party, ruling party of apartheid South Africa
necklace, necklacing—method of killing in which the victim is burned to death with a tire full of gasoline around the neck; used in the townships during the apartheid era, often as reprisal for suspected collaboration with the government
noch—also, on top of, in addition to
nooit—no way
nush—to snack on; Lithuanian-Yiddish pronunciation of nosh
oke—guy
PAC—Pan Africanist Congress, militant anti-apartheid group that split off from the ANC
Parktown prawn—a giant brown cricket of fearsome appearance
pasop—beware, watch out, be careful
pegged off—died
plant—to beat someone up, to knock them out
ponce—slick exploiter
poonie—slang for female genitalia
pup—deflated, flaccid, flat as in flat tire; alternate spelling of Afrikaans pap
puss—insulting and crude slang for female genitalia; alternate spelling of Afrikaans word poes
ratel—honey badger
rawl—fight (both verb and noun)
robot—traffic light
rort—fight (both verb and noun)
SACP—South African Communist Party
sanctions—refers to disinvestment as well as prohibitions on trade with apartheid South Africa
sangoma—traditional healer, spiritual guide
sawubona—Zulu greeting
scaly—low-down, underhanded
schlemiel—a bungling fool
schlof—sleep, nap
schmock—an insult roughly equivalent to twerp or annoying idiot; South African pronunciation of schmuck
schvantz—insult meaning penis, equivalent to prick
Shabbos—the Jewish Sabbath, from Friday sundown to Saturday sundown
sharp-sharp—expression to bid hello or goodbye or to express approval, similar to cheers
shebeen—a tavern in a township, unlicenced during apartheid
shiksa—a female domestic servant; also a non-Jewish female
shiva—Jewish mourning period of seven days following the death of a relative
shmerf—both a cigarette and the act of smoking
shoch, shochedika—South African Jewish slang for a black person, disparaging but not as egregious as kaffir
shot—thanks, nice one
shtum—keep quiet
shul—synagogue
shungalulu or shongololo—black millipede
shwank, shwanker—to show off, a show-off
siddur, siddurim—Jewish book(s) of prayer
sis—expression of disgust
sjambok—a sturdy, heavy whip resembling a tapered stick, tradi-tionally made of rhino or hippo hide but more often of plastic or rubber
skeef, skeefing—a hostile stare, giving the evil eye
skelm—crook, thief, criminal
slasto—paving made of slate shards set in concrete
smaak—to crave, to have a taste for
soek—to start trouble, to look for a fight, to hunt someone down; from Afrikaans for seek
sosatie—kebab, skewer, usually with meat
spanspek—cantaloupe
Standard—school year or grade
state of emergency—the apartheid regime’s suspension of ordinary legal rights, a draconian crackdown on the opposition
stoep—veranda, covered porch
stukkie—little piece; also a vulgar term for a girlfriend
sut—exhausted
swot—to study, especially for exams in school
takkies—sneakers, running shoes
tallis, tallaysim—Jewish prayer shawl(s), usually white with black stripes
tefillin—phylacteries: a pair of black boxes, each attached to a leather strap and containing a holy Jewish text, traditionally worn by males at weekday prayer, one strapped on the arm, the other around the head
tehilim—psalms
/> tickey box—payphone, phone booth
Tipp-Ex—correction fluid
togs—task-specific clothes, usually for sports
Tokoloshe—a hairy dwarf-like creature of African folklore, believed to be invisible
Torah—sacred parchment scrolls containing the handwritten central text of Judaism; also refers to Jewish religious teachings more broadly
torch—flashlight
township—racially segregated urban area reserved for nonwhites under apartheid laws
tsotsi—gangster
tune—to tell or to say
turps—mineral spirits or mineral turpentine; also called thinners or paint thinner
tzitzit—Jewish religious undergarment with stringy tassels at the bottom corners
UDF—United Democratic Front, a broad coalition of community groups opposed to apartheid and sometimes described as the ANC’s aboveground wing during the 1980s, when the ANC was banned. The UDF was itself all but banned in 1988, but this was offset by the creation of the Mass Democratic Movement (MDM). The UDF dissolved soon after the ANC was legalised.
Umkhonto we Sizwe—Spear of the Nation, the underground armed wing of the African National Congress, cofounded by Nelson Mandela. It was merged with the South African military following the unbanning of the ANC in 1990.
umzi watsha—“the city is burning,” opening lines of a Xhosa children’s song
vasbyt—grit, stoical determination; also a term of encouragement to hang in there; from Afrikaans, literally, “bite hard”
veld—bushland, uncultivated country
vikkel—move fast, hurry; also spelled wikkel
voetsak—very rude way of saying get lost or piss off
wank—to masturbate; also a pathetic and pointless act
yarmie—short for yarmulke, the religious skullcap for Jews
Yiddluch—affectionate diminutive for Jews
yortzeit—anniversary of a loved one’s death in Judaism, commemorated with prayer and the lighting of a candle; alternate pronunciation of yahrzeit
zaydi—grandfather
zol—cannabis, marijuana
Acknowledgments
Grateful thanks to Lauren Wein and Pilar Garcia-Brown at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt and to Craig Pyette and Anne Collins at Knopf Canada, for all their enthusiasm, insight, and warm encouragement. Thanks to Larry Cooper and Liz Duvall for their skillful copyediting. Many thanks also to Kim Witherspoon and Maria Whelan at Inkwell Management for their expert representation.
And much love, as ever, to Nicole, Avril, and Pasey.
1
skots says it’s funny how soft the bottoms of Isaac’s feet are—man he’s always getting thorns or glass stuck in them that everyone else just runs right over. He says it goes with Isaac’s funny hair like grated carrots and all the freckles on his face that make it look like them white cheeks was sprayed with motor oil or something; goes with those funny shorts about twenty sizes too big that he can only wear cos his da has made all those extra baby holes in the belt for him. Skots laughs and says also maybe the soft feet have to do with Isaac’s skin that turns red as anything from one little tiny poke of the sun, and also look how skinny your legs are man, like two spaghettis.
They are all sitting in the burnt-out piece of veld behind Nussbaum’s kosher butchery, eating a pigeon that Isaac shot off the phone wire with his catty when everyone else missed, and suddenly everyone goes all quiet, Isaac feeling them watching him. All he can hear is the noise from Beit Street, a tram clanging and rumbling, Yiddish shouts from the men selling fruit or bread or coal or ice.
Isaac looks slowly at Skots. —You calling me something hey Skots?
Skots seems to ponder the question, bunching and opening his toes in the dust at the edge of the firepit they’d scratched and packed with tomato-box wood since turned to greyblack ashes. Pigeon bones and pigeon grease lie on top; singed feathers still smoking.
Isaac says, —If you not bladey calling me something you better shut your bladey trap, know that Skots.
The others wait. Isaac watching Skots, thinking maybe he’d be a Stupid and try jump at him like last time, Skots a taller older boy with muscles in his arms like hard little apples. But that other time he’d gotten the thumb in his teeth and bitten so hard, to the bone, making Skots cry like a girl, saying I give, I give. Isaac gets his heels under him and leans forward.
Charlie, looking from one to the other, quick and nervous, says, —Hey hey you all know what? And starts telling them about a man was so crazy, so moochoo in his head, that he was doing these very bad things that he, Charlie, has seen with his own two eyes.
—What bad things? says Isaac, staring at Skots.
Charlie doesn’t want to tell, but after they press him and he tells them everything, Isaac starts to feel hot and sick. His eyes and his throat grow full. He doesn’t care about Skots no more, or about anything else. He stands up. —Lez go get him! Lez get that bladey bastid.
When Isaac runs, the others follow. No hesitation. They pass through the alley next to Nussbaum’s and into the noise and motion of Beit Street, the Yiddisher jabber of the sellers and the horses pulling carts and the bicycles ching-chinging and the Packards hooting and the doubledecker tram with its twirly stairs rumbling off down the middle of the street, scratching loose blue sparks from the wires above. On the corner, cages of gabbling chickens are stacked high and farther down the iceman with heavy gloves is unloading blocks wrapped in straw from his horse cart. There are tables of vegetables and the noises of sawing and banging from Dovedovitz and tinking noises from Katz the tinsmith while down the next alley the blacksmith’s forge glows orange hot, and all along in front of the long covered stoep there are Xhosa women on the side of the street sitting with their legs sideways on their bright blankets with their trinkets of ivory and stinkwood. Behind the glass of the butcher shops there hang black logs of salt-cured biltong and fat bottleblue flies mass on the blooded gobs of sawdust swept into the gutter with the smelly chunks of horse kuk.
On the far side of Beit Street, beyond the shops, they run between row houses with roofs of corrugated iron. It gets quiet here: just their breathing, their patting feet. Lizards on whitewash in the bright sun. They run till the asphalt ends and the dirt is hard as steel, pocked with holes or the glitter of quartz. Here at the end of the road is an open-sided square of tin houses with a single water tap in the middle on the open dirt, where women line up with squalling babies lashed to their backs and clinking buckets in their hands. Men sit on newspapers in the afternoon glow, children wrestle and shout. Someone is playing a guitar made of rubber bands and pieces of a detergent box.
They slow. Isaac touches the catty in his back pocket, a nice one he made from some inner tube stretched on a Y of strong wood; shoots stones beautifully hard and straight. He turns on Charlie. —Where is he, wherezit?
—Hang on, says Charlie. They watch him run to the far corner of the square where there’s a gap in the tin and he looks around, then comes jogging back shaking his head. —He not there yet.
—Lez go back and play by the chains park there.
—Lez go to the churu man and tell him kuk banana.
—We staying here, says Isaac. We staying here till he comes. Charlie, you keep an eye.
They wander down to a door where Isaac lets Skots go first. Dark coming in from the bright and sudden close smells of mielie pap and sour piss. Now he sees the table made of cardboard boxes with a bedsheet on it with pictures of strawberries and cigarette holes. Auntie Peaches is there: she passes them sweet real coffee in an old Horlicks jar—coffee he’s not allowed at home but Mame will never find out. Coffee to wash down the taste of the charred pigeon. He takes his sip and passes on. Bad coughing rips through the tin wall. Auntie Peaches pokes his tummy. —How’s the little devil hey, hey? Little devilhead, little troublemaker.
He rolls on his back with his knees up, giggling. This is happiness in the close feel of this homely space. But Charlie comes shouting:
—Ouens, ouens, hy’s hier die bliksem!
Guys, guys, the bastard’s here.
Outside the sun burns a white disc through a passing cloud as they run to the corner and turn into the alley there, sausages of kuk underfoot to dodge. At the end is the rubbish place that used to be a hole but is now a little rubbish mountain and in front of it is the madman.
—Is the puppy man, says Davey. Thaz the puppy man.
—I know him, says Nixie. He try sell them every day all around.
Puppyman is tall and wears only armless dungaree overalls with holes in them, too big for his lean frame, his cap is stuffed in a back pocket and his head is bald in spots and he is missing one sock and the heel flaps on one shoe. He sways on his feet with a small bottle in one hand. On the ground in front of him is a tall cardboard apple box. Things are moving in that box. He bends down and takes out a little dog that’s white with black spots, puts it carefully on top of two stacked bricks and stands looking down at it.
—Come on, says Isaac. But his heart is hammering very big in him and he goes slowly and can feel no one wants to come with as they follow behind. Puppyman looks bigger and bigger the closer he gets. Puppyman has deep wrinkles everywhere in his face like they cut in with a knife. Isaac says to him, —Scuse hey, what you doing with that liddel dog?
Takes a while for Puppyman to find his focus, squinting down at Isaac. —Why you care? You wanna buy?
—How much? says Isaac.
—Ach you got no monies, lightie. Piss off now. Voetsak!
The pup is standing up on the bricks, the whole of its fat-bellied body trembling; then it squats at the back and some pee runs off the bricks. It’s true that Puppyman doesn’t look right in the head. His eyes are yellowish and full of red veins and it’s like they are covered over with glassy webs. He takes a drink from that bottle and talks some kind of nonsense to himself. His breath smells like petrol. There’s dirt crusted in some of the blobs of his hair, and bits of maybe paint or something also. He has red blistery sores on one side of his mouth and not many teeth.
The Mandela Plot Page 45
