They probably told their own families and by the end of the month everyone in Hepville knew about Mam’ Sibeko’s ordeal: that she jumped over and set foot on the grounds of the black house to retrieve her blouse, and then in that same night she had a nightmare where the old woman cuts her face with an axe. It became a popular story, some believed it was real while others said it was just a lie for attention. 

So, to put this to the test, a bunch of flowers were sent to the home address 1776, the black house. An unknown man who wasn’t the native of the place came over to deliver the roses. He knew nothing about the black house and its sole occupant, the residence’s thoughts and opinions about it. As he got out of the car he was shocked to see that some people of Cape Street had come out to watch him. He even asked one of the guys, “what’s going on? Why are so many people staring?” 

“We just want to check something,” said the guy. “Go in and make the delivery.” 

The delivery man noticed that the numbers on the black house were 17 6. He side glanced at the neighbour house on the right of which on its porch stood an older woman and two girls. The number address of that house was painted 1777, which meant he had come to the right place at this black house – address 1776. 

He took the roses with him and got through the small black gate. So many people were watching him on the street he thought maybe there was something wrong with his face and the way he was dressed. He checked himself, then he waved over the fence on the right at Mam’ Sibeko and her two daughters. 

Bongi waved back. 

“Someone is not sleeping tonight,” Nozi said to him, Mam’ Sibeko slapped her on the shoulder to quieten her. 

The delivery man shook his head, sniffed the roses in a smile and rung the doorbell. Nobody came out. He desperately wanted to turn to the three over the fence and ask them what the hell are they looking at, is it their first time seeing a white man with some flowers?

“The people of this street are fucking weird,” he whispered to himself. He rung the bell again and again but no one came to open. He ended up knocking the door and yelled,”delivery!” Still the door wasn’t opened for him. “Anybody home?” 

When there was no response he shrugged and put the roses and the card on the floor near the door. Then he heard something ahead of the closed door; a faint noise he couldn’t hear what it was exactly he had to pause for a better listen, plugged his ear on the wood of the door. But that noise had passed, the delivery man thought maybe it was nothing. But that noise… He felt tempted to push the door open but he knew that wasn’t part of his job and there were a lot of people watching him behind. Besides, the door was probably locked, so he returned to his car. All eyes were on him. 

A guy in a bicycle stopped and watched him leave through the black gate. “What are you doing here, wena mlungu?” He asked, pulled out his earphones. 

“I just came by to deliver flowers.”

“Oh, I see. It’s your first time around here, huh?” 

“What do you mean?” The delivery man asked but the guy returned his earphones back in and rode away with his bicycle. 

The delivery man stood by his car and watched at the people in the nearby houses who were still looking at him. He felt like this was a cinema and he was the big screen that showed the movie. 

“Can someone tell me what the hell is going on here?” He shouted on the street. The people stopped watching him and got back inside their houses, some shaking their heads and looking sad, others carried on with their activities, pretending like they were not staring at all. 

The delivery man looked around and saw Nozi on the neighbouring house. He pointed at her. “You. Hey you!” He ran to her, as she and her mother and sister shuffled to get inside the house. But he caught up to them and forced himself inside. 

“You,” he pointed at Nozi again. “What did you mean out there?” 

“Look, mister, I’m gonna need you to leave,” Mam’ Sibeko said to him. 

“No, you,” he had his finger at Nozi. “you said something. Something about…somebody not sleeping tonight. You said that didn’t you? You said that. And why was everyone outside staring at me? What the hell! What’s up with this place!?”

“Mr…” Bongi said, looking at the name tag on the man’s chest. “Mr Spencer, please calm down. You are scaring my sister.”

“I just want answers, okay? What happened out there is really weird. And who is…” He angrily pulled a sheet of paper and read it, “…who is Mr A. Masombuka?”

“That’s the local machanic,” Mam’ Sibeko answered him. “He lives down the street. They called for a delivery to make a test.”

“What kind of test?” 

“To see if the next door house is haunted. The house you were supposed to deliver the roses to,” Mam’ Sibeko said.

Spencer laughed. He stopped laughing when they told him all about the black house and Mam’ Sibeko’s nightmare.

“It was no coincidence, Mr Spencer. We believe the bad dream was caused by the steps she took there,” Bongi told him. 

“Oh,” he looked at Nozi and grinned. “So that’s what you meant,” he said to her. “Anyway, I’ve never been afraid of a little nightmare. You people are really weird,” he laughed one last time before leaving. 

“Wait,” Bongi stopped him. “May we have your numbers? We’d like to call in the morning to check if…you know.”

“Sure,” although he felt weird about this, he still put his contacts on her phone, smiling and shaking his head. Black people are weird! 

Next day after a breakfast of brown porridge they tried calling him but he didn’t pick up. Nozi thought that maybe he had the same nightmare as her mother but unlike her, he died in his sleep. 

When they tried him one more time the delivery man picked up. He cried on the phone: “my – my legs! My feet! They swollen!” He screamed. “I can’t walk!”