Black hair. Brown eyes.
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?