The Fire in the Belly is Gone

When I started my third year our man stayed in the township doing absolutely nothing. He drank too much and many talked of him as ‘wasted potential.’ He loitered, walked around with his head down. The picture of defeat. But this did not last for long.

Some months later he was back on the tips of many tongues in the township. If you wanted the latest in home appliances, for half the price, Nhlanhla was the go-to-guy.

While most people wondered how he got mixed up with the credit card cloning crew, I was not surprised. Nhlanhla could talk his way into and out of anything. And how clever was he in the whole scheme. He neither cloned credit cards, nor bought appliances with the cloned cards. No, he was the seller of appliances bought by the cloners. With cash from the gig he bought a beat up Toyota Corolla while we still used public transport.

When the credit card cloners went after him because he hadn’t paid them money for the appliances he had sold, Nhlanhla simply disappeared.

There were rumours he had found work in far-away municipalities. It was hard to confirm for some said he was in Vryheid, others pointed to Newcastle, more added to the confusion by claiming he was in Glencore, Ladysmith and Escourt.

He disappeared for close to a decade until news of his opulent lifestyle in the mansions of Zimbali filtered into the township.

He Gets the Last Laugh

On the Tuesday after the unveiling I was sent to bed with flu. I was taking medication in the kitchen when I saw the paper boy throw a newspaper into the yard. I thought the pills were playing tricks with my eyes when I turned to page five.

It was unmistakably Nhlanhla’s chubby face inserted in an article with the heading:
‘Heads to roll in KZN Transport Department Fraud’

His picture appeared above a caption that read, ‘Nhlanhla Thusi, owner of Thusi Civils’.

Thusi Civils had tendered for a contract. It had been paid the full amount for a road that was never built. Next to his face there was a photo of a forest where the road was supposed to be.

On Wednesday night I was watching TV when I got a call. I was confused as to who it was, but quickly recalled that we exchanged cell phone numbers at the unveiling.

“Come out, I have something to show you,” Nhlanhla said.

Coffee mug in hand, robe on, I went out into the chilly night. I heard his hearty laugh as he rolled down the window of a brand new, sleek, top marque saloon.

“I was in the neighbourhood and thought you’d love to see this. I bought it this morning. Cash. Did you see what they wrote about me in the newspaper?”

“You guys are making money. Is it true you were paid that many millions?”

“The road is worth half that but that is beside the point. Watch out for my reply on Friday.”

I was eating a meaty roll during break time in the cafeteria at work on Friday. A few meat shavings fell onto the floor. I tossed the pieces into the bin next to the newspaper stand and saw Nhlanhla again. This time on page two, under the headline:
‘Businessman Builds Road for Free’

Everyone in the piece praised his generosity in quotes.

I just shook my head and smiled.

The End

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