Thuli woke to the sound of a car’s engine. She peered out of her small bedroom window. Mrs Dladla was out on her front patch of lawn, tending her garden, and everyone’s business, as usual.
“Hey – the big boss coming to see Moses again?” she called out. “What do you have to say to him?”
Mr Mokae hurried up to their front door.
Mrs Dladla had now been joined by Mrs Mongesi. “I know that man,” she called. “We know you, Mpumi Mokae. What are you doing here? Slumming it with the poor people. Here in your fine clothes and your fine car.”
“Twice in a row now,” said Mrs Dladla. “Coming to see Moses.”
“Ai, ai, ai, even when his mother was sick we did not see him here so often,” said Mrs Mongesi. “And then at her funeral…”
Thuli heard the front door opening. Much as she wanted to hear what had happened at Sebastian’s grandmother’s funeral, she needed to know what was going on. She left the window to hear what was now being said inside the house.
But by the time she got to the front room, the conversation was over. The front door slammed. Thuli rushed to the window in time to see Mr Mokae waving his arms in the air. Then he pulled his phone out of his pocket and had a brief, loud conversation.
“Yes sir. I know. I know. I am sorry.” Then he kicked the tyre of his car – hard. “Eina!” He swore.
Mrs Dladla cackled loudly. “Someone’s not in a good mood. What did Moses say to you, Mpumi?”
“Oh, he probably said that fine clothes don’t make a fine man,” Mrs Mongesi said and laughed as loudly as her friend.
Mr Mokae swore again and limped around to the driver’s side of the car. He slammed that door too, then drove away with a squeal of tyres.
“Tjoe.” Thuli turned to face her parents. “He didn’t look too happy, Dad, Mom. What’s going on?”
“I turned down the job, Thuli,” her father said.
“Yes, and judging by his reaction, Mpumi really, really needed you to accept it – more than we thought,” said Phindile. “I told you, Moses. There is definitely something shady about all of this. It’s all too sudden. Too convenient. Much as I love you, I have to say that Mpumi Mokae wanted you to take that job for a reason. And I don’t think it’s because you’re great friends. I’m so sorry, my dear.”
Moses grabbed Phindile around the waist and swung her in a circle – as well he could on the small square of carpet in front of their television. “Sorry? Don’t be sorry, my Phindi. I feel like the weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders.” He caught sight of Thuli standing in the doorway. “But not off yours, my girl! Now, more than ever, we need those seven As.”
Thuli laughed. It was so good to see her father looking happy, instead of wearing the strained look that had been on his face for the last week. “No problem, Dad,” she said. “Piece of cake.”
“Hah! You two.” Phindi shooed them to the door. “Now get moving before you’re both late.”
“I’ll be home late, darling,” said Moses.
“Oh yes, of course,” Phindi said. “The trade union meeting. Good luck, Moses. I hope it all goes very well.”
“We’ll win this time, Phindi,” Moses said. “We have to. We’re properly organised. All we want is fair treatment.”
Thuli’s heart swelled with pride as she looked at her father. She wouldn’t exchange him for a million Mr Mokaes and their swanky lifestyles. She was very happy just the way she was, thank you. “A fair deal, Dad,” she said. “Sounds good to me.”
*****
In the study of Mpumi Mokae.
Mpumi is on his phone, talking in a low voice.
We only hear his side of the conversation.
• Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Yes. I am sorry.
• No, we are going to have to change our plans.
• No sir, please. Don’t worry.
• I have it all under control.
• Yes, sir. I am sure.
• You can count on me sir. I have another plan.
• Yes. I am quite sure it will work.
*****
That afternoon, instead of going straight home from school, Thuli stopped to say hello to her father at work. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him; how hard it must have been to give up the prospect of a good salary and rather stick to his principles, what he truly believed in.
She spotted him walking through the vineyards and called out to him: “Dad, dad!”
“Thuli!” Moses’ face broke into a wide, happy smile. “What are you doing here my girl? Quite a detour for you on your walk home from school.”
“I know, Dad. I just wanted to say hi.”
Thuli slipped her hand inside her father’s and they walked in silence for a while.
“I wanted to tell you, Dad.” Thuli stopped and her father looked down at her.
“Yes, Thuli? Is there something wrong?”
“No, no. Nothing wrong, Dad. In fact everything’s just right. I just wanted to tell you how much I love you. How proud I am to be your daughter.”
“Well, you know what? That’s probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, Thuli. Apart from your mom of course.” Moses squeezed her hand tightly.
A group of men were walking towards them. Thuli recognised them from their visits to her house. They were the men who came home with her dad after work and spent hours talking about what they could do to improve the situation of the workers on the wine farms.
“Moses,” one called out. “All ready for this evening?”
“Will there be a good turnout?” another asked.
“What’s the mood like?” said the third. “We’re in it for the long haul this time. Plenty of hardship on the road ahead. We might not get pay for weeks and weeks.”
Moses took a deep breath. “It’s good,” he said. “It’s all good.” He hugged Thuli tightly. “I have to get back to this work,” he said. “But thank you, my little Thuli. You make your old dad very proud too.”
Thuli walked back along the path that led to the main road. It was a beautiful day. The grapes were plump on the vines, ready to be picked. The workers had chosen their time well. If they went out on strike now, the big bosses were not going to be happy. “I hope no-one gets hurt,” Thuli said aloud to the bright blue sky and the abundant green fields. “Especially not my dad.” And then she remembered her father’s words, spoken so many times, in so many discussions.
“A peaceful strike, protected by the law.”
***
Tell us: What is your opinion of strikes? Are they a good way to improve working conditions and pay?