The lady in a bold floral jumpsuit, she has altered Sipho’s attention altogether. Horrendously foolhardy as she walks down the street. Waist cinched nicely as to expose the youthfulness of that body. Spontaneous, as if to seduce the possessor, except of course that the possessor cannot possess itself. Now we are looking at her from behind and I should concede how my man is taken, even me, myself, could feel the other end of my stick burning as apparently we are both amazed.

How it did it all happen? We had just left the hall, supposedly meant for the taverns ‘blom spot’ – a space where customers are meant to wine and dine. We had already drunk four of the best, I could easily tell by my blurry eyesight. As we were making our way out, Sipho’s eyes thrashed towards someone along the junction alley.

“Awe! Sponono sam’, we’ mathebathebane! Nkosazan’ ekhethiweyo, waze wang’ thint’ ekujuleni we’ ntokazi! (My beautiful one, my sparrowhawk! Daughter of elect, there you reach into my innermost, pretty woman!)”

Sipho had just exposed his deepest innermost concerns to the lady that amused his special preferences. I could sense her melting into her humbled self, her sensible disposition, when she shyly waved a hand in acknowledgement. It was not drunkenness that made Sipho entreat in that manner. He knew what he was doing, and he was genuine about it. I then advanced to try and see what had gotten into my friend’s head.

Looking straight into his eyes I asked him. “That was so revealing of you, dude! I mean, uyavutha joe (you are in flames) right now. What has gotten into you?”

“Lenkosazana, ingu, malokazana (this young lady, it suits her well to betrothed),” Sipho confirmed.

“Never put your eggs in one basket, especially in this ruthless city. Kuse Jozi la! Kwandonga ziyaduma (this is the city of Joberg, the golden city of buzz),” I slightly warn him about being too forward.

The Monday following that long weekend after duty, we were on our way to the bus stop to find a taxi straight to ekasi. Sipho told me something totally unexpected. He said that he had finally got his chance to relate his emotions about her. He told me the lady’s name was Funeka and that he had learned a great deal about her, but Funeka was unfortunately not in a good stance to accept his love proposal.

When I asked him what that implies, he said he was a bit confused because the lady seemed convinced.

“In her words she said that she is currently involved. And said that ‘ucu aluhlangani entanyeni’ meaning the bead strand worn on the neck, cannot reach its final end,” Sipho explained.

This is the olden-day traditional way of refusing a man’s proposal. According to custom, that would not mean the test by one on another is done, and man and woman should part ways. Maybe that is the modest way of doing things. Maybe the new generation have abandoned the old ways if they truly have forgotten who they are, their history, their customs.

But Sipho was a man of true worth, a man who hadn’t forgotten his entire history. Even though he had been restrained before, he went back to her over and over and played his part until the lady would accept by appreciating the efforts of the man, thus agreeing to be the man’s lover. The conclusion would then spring forth that Sipho had been accepted as the man to afford Funiwe’s hand in marriage. Until the perfect time comes, both the lovers are allowed to get intimate, play, tease and learn more about each other until further notice.

Only later did I learn that this lady whom Sipho had always been maddening about was the same lady we would meet on our taxi queues. I failed to recognise her due to her formal uniform. I think her uniform never gave her a good appeal. It made her dull, insipid and unattractive. Whereas Sipho recognised her spot on in her casual wear. That same Thursday we were on our long weekend at Baba Spokza’s tavern. That was one moment where history took a turn, when Sipho took a decision to speak out his manhood. Funiwe, the lady who has long been sought after, the professional nurse, she had a swagger move unmatched.

History tells us that even though some of us may have our identity corrupted by the innumerable blemishes and lifestyle we are subjected to, a person by and of themselves remains the cog in their own mechanisation. Sipho finally fell in love out of his own volition.

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