Bongani is driving. They have stopped at the traffic light at KwaMnyandu Mall.
“Is that what you wanted, Mindlos?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Now you have to make it run the way you have promised.”
“Don’t worry, Bongs.”
“That’s not the answer I’m looking for. I’m getting worried because you are taking this way too lightly. This is big, Mindlos. I expect you to say, ‘I’ll make it run the way I promised.’”
“Whatever. I know my part.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, I’m the one who came to you with the idea, Bongs. I created this whole thing. I know my part. And what happened to my suggestion?”
“What suggestion?”
“That we conduct ourselves like gentlemen. There was no need to beat up Khulekani like that. There was no need.”
Bongani swerves the car into a bus bay and brings it to an abrupt stop. He takes a deep breath. His henchmen also bring their cars to a stop. They come out of their cars.
Bongani rolls down the window. “It’s nothing. We just need a moment to talk. Get back in your cars,” he says. He rolls up the window and looks at Mandla. “For someone so clever in making money, you are dumb when it comes to understanding human behaviour.”
“Understanding human behaviour? Is the brutality I have just witnessed at Khulekani’s store your understanding of human behaviour?”
“Didn’t you promise me that with your ideas we will build a drug empire that will make us millionaires?”
“Of course I did. And you have seen my projections. You are seeing all the money that’s coming in since we started.”
“Well, my friend. All great conquerors use fear, you can’t negotiate the taking over of an empire. You just have to take it. This is not some corporate business world where you have to play nice. This is the street!”
“I know that.”
“In the street you can’t be weak. Never show weakness to the runners. That weakness and caring is what will get you killed.”
“I know. I get it.”
“Good. This is Umlazi, bru. If you are fair you don’t make it in the drug game here. I don’t have to remind you of that because you know it first hand. You know what they did to your father. He was set up by the very people he trusted.”
Mandla exhales and says, “You can say that. But you can also look at it in another way. Dad was set up because he didn’t have everyone in his pocket. He had that 26s gang mentality of hating the police.”
“Yeah, it is gang law. I also hate cops.”
“Hate them all you want, but not having them in our pocket won’t make us money. You guys and gang law confuse me. You say you are about money but you don’t understand how money works. A peaceful environment makes us money, our drug spots not being raided by cops makes us money.”
Bongani looks at Mandla. Deep down he knows Mandla is telling the truth, but at the same time he can’t concede because he was raised on 26s gang law.
“That is all fine and well when things are up and running. But now we are only beginning. This is a takeover and takeovers are never smooth, they are never negotiated.”
Mandla shakes his head. They head on to collect in many drug spots. At a newer spot, the henchmen beat up a runner because he has come up short. Mandla zones out through it all. Even as the runner kneels right in front of him, bloodied and begging for forgiveness, Mandla’s mind is far away.
At Bongani’s house, Mandla separates the money accordingly — for bribing cops, for paying drug suppliers, then for their profits.
“How is your father?” asks Bongani.
“He is well. Well as anyone can be serving life in prison.”
In his flat in Morningside, Mandla stands on the balcony. He looks at the ocean and exhales cigarette smoke. This view of the ocean clears his mind of all the brutality of beatings and intimidating people. He can feel the loneliness creeping in as he counts his money. He switches off the TV and just listens to the ocean.
He has never been a religious man but today, as he doses off to the sound of crashing waves, he has a request.
“God, please send me someone to love,” he whispers.
Tell us: What do you think will happen next?