Black hair. Brown eyes.

It’s him. 

The guy from Oliver Tambo.

“Hey … Nathi, isn’t it?”

I turn round. My body is trembling. My inside is pulsing, but not from the music.

“Sh-sh-sho,” I stutter.

“I’m Njabulo.” He holds out his hand to me. At first, stunned, I just stare at it. Then I realise I must look skaam, like a scared sheep. I stick out my hand. Shake his. His eyes are on me the whole time. I look down.

What’s happening to me?

Then I know. I feel guilty.

Njabulo is still holding my hand. Too long? I pull mine back. He smiles roguishly. A lovely smile.


“You played a good game the other day,” says Njabulo.

“Thanks. Just a pity about that last tackle I couldn’t manage.” I look up again.

“It happens to the best of us.” His smile widens. “So?”

He leaves the last word suspended in the air. I frown. He tilts his head slightly. “You’re … aren’t you?”


“I just wanted to make sure,” he says.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He slowly comes nearer. Then closes his eyes and brings his head closer …

Suddenly the room closes in on me. I must get out of here. I push him away from me. Some other guys are coming in. They look at me. “Kwenzakalani? [What’s going on here?/What the hell?]” says one.

I run out.

QUESTION: What would you do in an uncomfortable situation in a nightclub?