It was Sunday morning when he knocked at my door. Yes! I remember well. I remember how unpleasant his knocking was, as if he was a policeman who just received information pertaining the whereabouts of a wanted criminal. It was very cold that day, and he was freezing.
I remember his dry face as if he used Ponds; that very oily one. His crumbed lips which needed salvation from Vaseline Petrolium Jelly. His eyes were red like the ones of a rat that has been dashed against the wall. Oh, his dreadlocks? They looked like the ones of Jaman who was forever smoking and spent most, if not all his time not bathing.
His jean was torn, as though he ran against wires and got it torn. From it, I could see his underwear. God Forbid! It looked like caramel icing sugar. His white shirt was black. It was as if he was working on a coal mine with it; using it as a uniform.
His neck so greasy as if he had applied cooking oil onto it and walked miles in the sun. His feet, so dark. They seemed like the ones of a crocodile; he didn’t wear any shoes!
As I opened the door and welcomed him to my chambers, he sighed.
He looked very comfortable on the chair that I was given as a present by my ex-girlfriend. She, who decided to leave me when I got retrenched from work. How I miss that soul! Especially now that it’s winter. Damn! I know she would prepare some steamy food and I would have my dessert in bed. But it is fine, I have been a loner for sometime now, and I am once again getting used to being a bachelor.
I asked to make some tea for him before he stated his reason for visiting me. Without hesitation, he agreed to the motion and I made us tea. I went to my bedroom to fetch another chair so I could sit next to him. As I afforded him tea, his face wasn’t as pleased as it were when I asked him if he wanted some. It showed some dissatisfaction and unease. I asked if the tea was okay and he nodded. I realised later when he started drinking the tea that he needed something to drink it with.
I went to my small kitchen and fetched some bread. The month was in its latter stage and the economy was very low. There was nothing I could do to that bread so I gave it to him as dry as it was. Yoh! He gave me a very weird look as if he was disgusted. I got very angry and I decided to stand up again and go fetch those muesli rusks that I saved for lunch.
As he started to chow the rusks with tea, my tea was already cold so I’ve lost appetite for it. I started smelling a very strange scent. It was a scent that was engineered by the perfume masters; the sun and the body fluids. Such scents that make one feel like hiding themselves under the table when they smell it.
“Okay good sir, and you are?” I asked as I moved my chair backwards to get some fresh air.
“I am Mzilakazi,” he said as he finished the last bit of the rusk that was left in his hand.
“What brings you here Mzilakazi?” I asked looking straight in his eyes.
“I wanted to ask you something,” he answered as he put the mug down on the floor looking straight in my eyes and not moving.
“Okay shoot, I have to be somewhere at ten,” I told him as I looked at my Ivory watch, trying to accelerate his response.
“Okay, this is going to sound very strange but I am going to ask anyway. Are you the son of Nontozanele Mjangase and Madoda Mjangase?”
I was very shocked as to where and how he knew my parents, so I said, “Yes.”
“You are my brother,” he said as he started crying.