Thabang is exhausted as he pushes his front door open. He finds his father’s knobkerrie propped against the table. The torch helmet faces towards him and the orange miner’s suit hangs over the chair. He wonders why his father has brought his work uniform home. They are usually kept at the mine. It isn’t too long before he has his answer. His father tumbles out of the bedroom and sees him.
“Afternoon, Papa,” he says.
His father grunts and nods his head.
“What’s going on?” Thabang enquires. “Looks like you are going to war,” he jokes, trying to make his old man laugh.
“Don’t you have homework or something instead of asking me stupid questions?” his father snarls.
Thabang is surprised by his father’s anger. But as he walks past him on the way to his bedroom he feels his father’s large hand on his shoulder. The older man sighs.
“I’m sorry Thabang. I’m just stressed. We are on a strike. They are refusing to listen to our demands.”
“And the knobkerrie?”
“That is to knock that stupid chairman of the union out with one swing. Baam! I will knock him so hard he will see little birds circling his head.”
Thabang breaks into a smile and his father laughs.
“He is taking food out of our mouths, while he gets to live in luxury, drive flashy cars. I can’t even buy an old skorokoro!” his father shouts. Then he looks at Thabang. “Give me your hand.”
“Papa?” Thabang queries.
“I said, give me your hand.”
Thabang slowly lets his father take his hand, look at it and rub it.
“You are definitely not meant for digging the deep hole. You are not tough-fibred. I guess your school books will take you out of the dump.”
“Don’t worry, Papa. When I graduate from university, I am going to buy you and Mama a huge mansion – bigger than Nkandla,” he jokes.
His father’s laugh almost shakes the house. Then his cellphone rings, he pulls it from his pocket and talks briefly to someone. He immediately gets up and goes through to the kitchen, grabbing his knobkerrie.
“Time to meet with the gang. Wish us luck.”
“Good luck, papa.”
His father puts on his miner’s helmet before he heads out the door. Thabang watches through the window as he is joined by other miners waiting outside the gate. He wishes he could show Naledi his father’s fearlessness, and also wishes he could face Sthe and tell him truthfully how he feels about Naledi.
*****
Every day his father continues to picket with the miners who are on strike, but soon his positive spirit begins to ebb away.
At school, Thabang doesn’t hang out with Sthe as often as he has done. In fact, Sthe starts to avoid him. Naledi is everywhere and he finds himself stealing looks at her whenever she passes or stands giggling with her friends.
In the English class the teacher is grilling them on their Shakespeare play. Half the class’ attention is elsewhere. Thabang is gazing at Naledi as the teacher quotes.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
“Who can tell me what that means?” he says and searches the faces. “Anyone?”
Naledi puts up her hand. “I think it means that it is not up to fate what becomes of us but what we make of ourselves. If we fail it is not the fault of fate but rather our own weaknesses.”
“Well done, Naledi. The rest of you need to read Julius Caesar and your notes again.”
When the bell goes Thabang slings his bag over his shoulder and nearly bumps into Naledi as he walks out of the class. They smile at each other. “After you,” he says and makes way for her.
“Such a gentleman,” Naledi jokes.
“I liked the way you explained the quote. That was cool,” Thabang says. “You’re going to ace the exam.”
Her friends are waiting for her. “Catch you later,” she says as she runs to join them.
Thabang is staring after her when Sthe comes up.
“What’s up with you and Naledi?” His tone is aggressive.
“What do you mean?”
“Are you trying to steal her? Is that what this is about?”
“How can I steal her when she doesn’t belong to anyone?”
“I’ve seen how she looks at you. What does she see in you, bra?”
Thabang looks at Sthe with new eyes. This is a new Sthe, jealous and cutting. That was a low blow.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you go and ask her?” Thabang challenges.
“You know what – it doesn’t matter. I don’t like her anyway. She’s not my type,” Sthe mutters, petulantly.
“OK. Fine by me.”
Thabang walks away. Has he lost a friend? Has it come to this? Does he have to make a choice?
*****
Naledi lies on her bed and thinks about Thabang. He is different from the other boys. His family is poor, not like the other kids who boast about their wealth. But there is a dignity about him. He doesn’t try to be what he’s not. But he doesn’t wear the ‘I’m poor’ badge.
More than that, she feels that he ‘gets’ her. He is clever and funny and cute. Yes, cute. She loves the smile that lights up his face.
These heady feelings, this infatuation, has caught her off guard, taken her by surprise. One day he meant nothing to her, the next she can’t get him out of her head. She picks up novels, listens to music, just to try and distract herself from thinking about him, but it’s no use.
She has his number on her phone. She got her friend to talk to her friend who had his number.
She stares at the number for what seems like forever before she has the courage to text him.
Cn I ask u somethin?
She presses SEND and her heart is thudding in her chest. She waits for his reply.
*****
‘Cn I ask u somthin?’ He reads it again; his heart starts racing.
Sure, shoot. I’m all ears,
rather I am all thumbs. 🙂
I’m an idiot! he thinks. ‘All ears…’
The phone buzzes again.
U wanna go see a movie this
weekend… wit me?
Thabang’s palms are sweating as he types his reply.
***
Tell us what you think: Is it usual today for a girl to ask a guy out? Is it OK?