I was happy because on that Friday my father found a new job. It was not permanent, but it would last for the next six months at least. He was hired as a labourer on a big construction job at the edge of town. They were building a new sports complex. That evening it was a celebration at home. My mother cooked chicken and rice and my father came home with two quarts and a two litre cola for me. Masego wasn’t there, but still we celebrated. We were all very happy, even my mother.

Saturday morning José and I played football with some boys from school. We played until lunch time and then we went home to my house. My mother was gone to her matshelo, but had left behind a plate of food for me. José and I sat on the back stoep to eat together.

“I couldn’t believe that goal you scored; I think you were in their half when you kicked it. It was like a bullet it was so hard and straight. No-one could have stopped it,” I said. José was a very good football player, better than me. Better than nearly everyone around.

“They weren’t expecting that at all. The goalkeeper looked more surprised than anyone. He looked at the ball as if it got there by magic. He looked at me as if I were a powerful magician!” José threw his head back and laughed.

We laughed some more about the look on the goalkeeper’s face, and then José got serious. “I took your advice. I spoke to my father. I told him I would rather be at home, that the schools were good enough there, and, in any case, I want to be a fisherman, not some man in a hot suit in an even hotter office. I was scared to say it all but I did.”

“What did your father say?” I asked.

“He seemed relieved, I think. He said he would think about it. And then we talked about home for a long time. We talked about our family there and we talked about fishing and the moody sea, and at the end he was speaking as if we were already there. I think we will return home soon. I think that’s what he will decide after thinking about it.”

“I’m happy for you, José. Maybe I’ll come to see you there one day. You can take me fishing.”

“Yes! You will come to Pemba and my father and I will take you out on our boat. We will fish for barracuda; you’ll see how wonderful it is to fight such a brave fish. It will be very nice to show you my home. I can hardly wait to go home. Already I can see how the idea has made my father happier.”

I had lied. I wasn’t very happy about it all. I know it’s wrong, José was my friend and I should have been happy because he was happy, but I felt sad thinking he might be going back to Pemba. In my heart I wished he’d never go. I know it was wrong, but that’s what I hoped. I wished something might happen to stop him from leaving. It was selfish and horrible, but it is what I wished for that day.

* * * * *

The meeting of the ‘South Africa for South Africans’ group was held in the field down the road from our house. It started once the sun set. I was surprised to see most of our neighbours streaming out of their houses heading that way. I didn’t realise so many people would be interested in such a meeting, especially people that we knew. I sat on our stoep and watched them pass. My father came out of the house and sat next to me.

“These people don’t know what they’re starting. It’s going to make trouble. I can feel it. It’s going to make some awful trouble,” he said.

As we watched the parade of people, the door behind us opened and there was my mother in her Sunday dress carrying her handbag. “Where are you going?” my father asked.

“To Masego’s meeting,” my mother said.

“No you are not,” he said.

My father’s voice had changed and even my mother could hear it. She didn’t say anything, which was against my mother’s nature. She just quietly turned around and went back inside. After a while I heard the TV on.

My father and I sat on the stoep until the people had all passed. Then we heard the loudspeakers down the road. We heard people cheering and chanting. We couldn’t make out the words, but it was easy to hear that they were getting very excited.

“Let’s go in Kenalemang. We don’t want to get caught up in all of this foolishness. Nothing good is going to come of any of it,” he said. “You can mark my words on that one. Nothing good will come of any of this.”

* * *

Tell us what you think: What is Kenalemang’s father afraid of?