“Ekse gents, are you ready for Good Kush?” asked the boy excitedly, his name was Sizwe.

Good Kush & Alcohol was an annual and one of the biggest youth events in Soweto. Good Kush was a thing for the popular, only a few people could do with missing out and only a very few did. Pule and Mpendulo were often part of the very few. In fact, they were not really into partying as was the norm with most youth. They partied and got drunk on special occasions, and they had little to almost no such occasions in their span.

Pule was more popular than Mpendulo. He was famous for his dancing, his schoolmates knew him as the king of dance. He was one of the pioneers of the newest street dance moves at school and he couldn’t wait for a better occasion to showcase some of his newest and freshest moves. He occasionally had a drink or two; he had seen more invitations than the President to contests, pageants, music and dance events, and even street bashes.

Good Kush 2018 was no doubt to be that special occasion.

Andile was to be there at the event. She was Pule’s biggest crush, one that brought his heart to his toes. He was head over heels in love with Andile and everybody at school was aware of it. That was the reason why he couldn’t have risked her going out with another guy by not showing up at the supposedly most epic party.

“‘White Sneakers’ is this year’s theme, just in case you forgot.” Sizwe said.

Sizwe was always passionate about these parties. He was in fact the prime organiser of house parties and end of year celebrations for his school. Sizwe’s passion affected Pule. It caused him to ponder the possibilities of having to miss out or not being at his best for the defining moment of his life. That moment when he just finished mesmerising the crowd on stage, while Andile was offstage eagerly waiting for him to ask her out.

He thought about what he was to wear and remembered that he had no white sneakers. He thought about the trolley boy, he thought about his smell but most of all he thought about his sneakers.

There was already a gathering of learners at the school gate taking their punishment for late coming. He thought about having to take a few strokes of a cane on the bum for arriving late at school but he couldn’t dismiss Trolley boy from his mind.

“Mpendulo, please carry my bag for me, I’ll be back soon.”

“Where are you going?” Mpendulo grabbed his bag.

“I need to get something!” he said, already walking back in the direction they had come.

Mpendulo bore his strokes on the surface of his butt as he was late for class. When he reached the class the lesson was already underway. Everybody sat still, eyes and faces eagerly fixed to the chalkboard where the teacher’s hand kept moving to and fro, referring to a series of long writing that occupied the whole chalkboard as he spoke. It was history period.

After a small quiet chat with the teacher he proceeded to his desk which remained empty, the chair seeming to have been longing for him. To the far left of the very last row of desks, at the back of the class, Pule’s chair was lonely too. He came in immediately at the end of the period, like he bunked it on purpose. The teacher had already left and did not see him entering the class. He somehow had managed to escape the cane and he had trolley boy’s sneakers.

They were Jordans as cordially noted by one classmate. He put them in his bag, held on tight to it and never separated an inch from it.

***

Tell us: Does your neighbourhood have bashes like Good Kush?