Zinhle leads Sphiwe into the yard of a two-room house built with blocks. There is a shack behind this house.

“Whose shack is this?” asks Sphiwe.

“It belongs to my friend, Thokozani. All my other friends are here. Don’t worry, Sphiwe, you’ll like them. They’re cool,” says Zinhle.

Zinhle opens the door and Sphiwe follows her into the shack. They are greeted by clouds of smoke as soon they enter the shack.

Thokozani, a thin guy with dreadlocks, sits on a sofa. Zinhle greets Thokozani and goes over to sit next to him on the sofa. She introduces Sphiwe and motions for him to sit in between two girls – Ayanda and Londiwe – on the opposite sofa. There is a hookah burning on the table between the sofas. Next to the hookah a cellphone bangs out the latest hip-hop hits. They all take turns smoking the hookah.

Zinhle pours codeine cough syrup into the Sprite. Zinhle, Thokozani, Ayanda and Londiwe look on gleefully as the mixture turns purple. Zinhle pours the mixture into Styrofoam cups.

“Here you go,” Zinhle hands a cup to Sphiwe, “here’s your ‘lean’.

Sphiwe recoils. “No, I’ll pass,” he says.

“Come on, take a sip. It’ll be fun, I promise,” says Zinhle, smiling mischievously.

“Okay,” says Sphiwe.

He slowly lifts the cup to his lips and drinks. He winces at the taste of the ‘lean’ at first, but gradually takes bigger gulps. Soon he is drinking the ‘lean’ and smoking the hookah faster than everyone else.

“Whoa! I think you’ve had enough,” says Thokozani. “Zinhle, tell your boyfriend to slow down.”

Zinhle lazily takes the cup from Sphiwe’s hand. She almost spills the ‘lean’ in Sphiwe’s cup as she places it on the small table. Her eyelids are slits and there is a wide smile on her face.

“No, no, no! Sphiwe is not my boyfriend. No offence, Sphiwe, you are a smart, nice guy. But you are lacking one thing. And that one thing is the most important thing,” says Zinhle.

“What am I lacking?” Sphiwe slurs.

“You don’t have money. A man must have money,” says Zinhle.

“But I will have money one day,” says Sphiwe. His voice is barely audible. His eyes are half-closed and red from the high of the ‘lean’.

Zinhle laughs. “I need money now. I need a man who can take care of me now. A man that can take me out to eat. A man that can take me shopping.”

Sphiwe’s smile slowly fades away. A big lump has suddenly lodged itself in his throat.

“Yebo wena, mngani. Ngiyakuzwa mina. (Spot on, my friend. I hear you loud and clear. I’m on your side),” says Ayanda.

Londiwe has fallen asleep with her mouth wide open. Thokozani is dragging a hit from the hookah pipe. Ayanda and Zinhle are laughing and giving each other high fives. Sphiwe looks on quietly while listening to the sound of his heart breaking.

***

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