As the black BMW pulls up to the kerb next to them at the station, Itu has to put a hand over her mouth to stop herself from screaming. This can’t be happening, she thinks. It can’t be happening. Two girls from a village do not get picked up from Joburg’s Park Station by a tall blond man in a BMW. They don’t get to sit in the back while he drives around and talks about how excited he is to have them there. But it is happening, and it’s happening to Itu.

Finally, something good is happening after so much bad luck. Itu lies back in her seat and lets Mpho do the talking. Tall steel and glass buildings whip past outside the car as they speed along the highway.

“Are we going to our hotel?” Mpho asks the driver.

“No, we’re going straight to the event in Sandton. The other finalists are already there. We can just leave your bags in the car,” he replies.

Going straight to Sandton! Halala! This day just keeps getting better.

When Mpho suggested that they enter the Smart Business Competition, Itu had had her doubts. Zola, Itu’s daughter, was just three years old. After taking a break, Itu herself was still trying to finish her matric, at the same time as raising her child. Things were tough but Gogo was helping with her pension money. Itu even got a job working after school at the cash-and-carry down the road. So Itu doubted, but Mpho kept on about it.

“I have a great idea, Itu! We can really make a lot of money from this thing,” Mpho had insisted.

“How? You always want to make fast money – you never want to work for it like the rest of us,” Itu had said.

“Come on, girl. Don’t be like that. I’m trying to tell you about my idea. I need your help,” Mpho replied.

“Help? Don’t you mean ‘money’?” Itu asked.

Mpho laughed. “I’m not going to say no to your money, chomi! But that’s not why I need you. There’s this business idea competition that I saw in the newspaper. You can win R400 000!”

R400 000 was more money than Itu could even imagine. That could change her life. Itu sighed and reluctantly agreed, “OK, what do we have to do?”

Mpho threw her arms around Itu and pulled her into a tight hug. “Yes! You won’t regret this, friend.”

Itu laughed, “You better hope I don’t! OK, tell me about your idea.”

Mpho explained, “Sometimes, it’s very hard to find space to grow your own vegetables. In the township, very few people have gardens to grow food. But my idea fixes that. It is an inflatable bag that grows food inside. It waters itself. It keeps itself cool in the day and warm at night so that the seeds can grow. It takes less space than a TV or a stove and you can put it inside or outside, chomi. These growing containers, you put them all on top of each other. You just put them in a corner and you make sure you put water in the container once a month and that’s all you have to do. It does everything else automatically, girl. It’s a closed ecosystem.”

“So your idea is a garden you can put in a cupboard or a kitchen and it grows itself?” Itu asked.

“That’s it! I want to call it ‘Garden-in-a-Bag’.”

Itu had to admit, it wasn’t a bad idea. Actually, even in the rural areas where there was enough space to grow food, sometimes the soil was too poor. Or, it was the wrong climate. Sometimes, there was no-one around anymore who knew how to farm. This idea could help so many people feed themselves.

“It’s a good idea, Mpho …” Itu said, thinking about all the possibilities.

“I know, girl. I know. I told you, hey? Don’t say I didn’t tell you. And when we win that R400 000 in the Smart Business Competition, we’ll split it fifty-fifty. You help write the application with your nice English. I’ll tell you about my idea and do the drawings that we can put with the application. We can’t lose!” Mpho said, dancing around, already so excited and sure of herself.

Itu laughed. Mpho’s excitement infected everyone around her. Now, Itu felt it too.

Within the next week, they submitted their application forms; within two months, they got the call to say they were in the semi-final round of the competition. And then, two weeks ago, they had heard that they were in the finals and would attend the celebration lunch with all the other finalists in Johannesburg. All expenses paid.

Itu and Mpho pull up in front of the Sandton Convention Centre, a huge building reflecting sunlight from all sides. The driver steps out and opens the passenger door for them. Inside the building, the other finalists are already gathered. As they walk across the shining white floor, Itu looks down and sees her own smiling face reflected up at her.

The driver asks them to wait to one side while he fetches the organiser to come and meet them. Mpho grabs Itu’s hand and squeezes. Itu looks up from the gleaming floor, smiles and squeezes back. And then Itu sees the driver walking back to where he left them. He isn’t smiling. Neither is the short woman with dark eyes who is walking behind him. They reach Itu and Mpho.

The woman speaks first, “My name is Naomi. I’m the administrator of the Smart Business Competition. I’m afraid … I’m afraid there’s been a … mistake.”

A mistake? What kind of mistake? Itu wants to ask, but the words won’t come out. She opens and closes her mouth but she doesn’t make a sound.

Naomi continues, “The driver should have been told not to bring you both back here. You were supposed to be informed that you have been disqualified from the competition and are to be sent back home.”

“Disqualified?” Mpho asks.

Naomi shakes her head. “I’m afraid that’s correct. Your entry has been cancelled and you are no longer able to collect a prize for your submission,” she explains.

“But why?” Itu asks.

“Every entry into this competition must be an original idea; one that has not been done somewhere else. We found that your application is almost exactly the same as another product that already exists in America. It isn’t well-known so we didn’t realise this until the inventor of that product emailed us to say you had, er, stolen her idea,” Naomi says.

Stolen the idea? Itu looks at Mpho, waiting for her to deny it, waiting for her to say that Naomi is wrong. Instead, Mpho says nothing. She looks down at her feet and says nothing.

Itu feels her face getting hot. There are people staring at them now. Some are whispering to each other.

“Mpho, tell her she’s wrong!” Itu pleads. “Tell her that woman from America is lying. Tell her it’s a coincidence. Say something!”

“There’s no mistake. I copied the idea from a different competition. I’m sorry,” Mpho says.

Itu grabs her friend’s shoulder and her nails bite into Mpho’s skin. “No, Mpho. It can’t be right. You’re not a cheat.”

Mpho takes a step away from Itu. “I am,” she says quietly.

Naomi says, “Another team will take your place in the top ten. The driver will take you back to Park Station and buy you tickets back home. But I think it’s best if you leave now.”

Itu looks at Mpho through narrowed eyes, pushes her hard and says, “You’re a liar and a cheat.”

Mpho stumbles back one step, but steadies herself quickly and doesn’t fall.

Without saying a word, she slaps Itu’s face. The loud ‘snap’ that her hand makes as it hits Itu’s face travels through the whole room. Everyone is quiet.

***

Tell us: Can the girls’ friendship ever recover from this?