As the bus coughed and spluttered to life, an agitated Ms. Robyn did a quick head count of all the students. Many of them seemed a little on edge, while others had whispered their desire to go home. Who would have thought that an entire annual school leadership camp would have to be cancelled because half a barn somewhere in the countryside had burnt down?

 

As the bus began to circle between a lapa and some trees, Basheshebahleka looked towards what was left of their smoky sleeping quarters. Suddenly, a barefoot boy of similar age, wearing navy blue shorts and a dirty looking white t-shirt emerged from the cloud of reddish-brown dust in the wake of the departing bus. He was running behind the Marcopolo machine. Although Basheshebahleka didn’t recognize the boy, when he strained his neck to get a better look, while the bus rocked from one side to the other, he could’ve sworn the boy was crying. The unknown boy was waving his hands frantically as if trying to get their attention, his face etched with grief.

                            

“Who the hell is that?” Basheshebahleka said to no one in particular as he looked out the dusty window.

“Hmm?” Robert responded distractedly. Without saying a word Basheshebahleka pointed through the window at the running boy with tears streaming down his face.

Robert turned to look. Rather puzzled he simply said, “Hai wena, what are you talking about?”

Now looking a little panicked, his buddy said, “The boy running after the bus… with navy shorts…”

“What boy?” asked his best friend.

 

Basheshebahleka ignored Robert, jumped up and hurried towards the front of the now noisy bus, swaying this way and that as the driver negotiated over some uneven terrain. He had to stop briefly to regain his balance after almost falling backwards. Roger laughed unashamedly.

 

“Sir?” he whispered with urgency when he got to where Mr. Mabuza was outstretched trying to read a book.

“Sir?” he repeated a bit louder.

Mabuza looked up from his copy of Es’kia Maphahlele’s Down 2^nd Avenue and simply said, “What is it Basheshabahleka?” The isiZulu Teacher was the only one amongst the school’s staff that called the boy by his full name as he had a cultural appreciation of why he would have been given that name. He also knew that this particular student was not a tattletale.

 

“Sir I think we might have left someone… There’s a boy running after the bus,” he said with concern dripping from every word uttered. “He looks scared,” he added.

Having registered the potential gravity of the situation, Mabuza bolted upright. “A boy? Where?” he enquired. He didn’t wait for an answer. He quickly stood up and took some measured surefooted long strides towards the back of the moving bus. Xolani quickly turned off the now vibrating speaker as Justin hissed “Impi on the move!”

Michelle quickly slid off Jerome’s lap and returned to her seat as everyone tried to look innocent.

 

Mr. Mabuza leaned over some of the now curious-looking students and looked out the back window just beyond the last row of seats. He looked left and then right, at times straining to see through the building dust clouds that signaled the bus’s departure. Nothing. With a confused expression Mabuza turned to find Basheshebahleka standing not too far behind him.

 

“Did you see him Sir?” the concerned student asked, in search of reassurance.

Mabuza looked at the boy with uncertainty and slowly shook his head.

“But Sir I saw him, I swear! He came running out from over there,” he pointed.

With one hand gripping onto a backrest, Mabuza said, “It’s okay Basheshebahleka. Everything is…”

“But Sir I saw him, I swear! He was right there!” the learner persisted, becoming a bit hysterical.

Justin was looking a little concerned, not because he and his classmate were particularly close, but because the boy he always referred to as Shesh was not known for emotional outbursts.

 

Mabuza was now hugging the teary boy.

“Sir, is he okay?” a genuinely concerned Justin asked.

Mabuza turned to be met by several pairs of eyes that were now focused on a rather confused-looking isiZulu Teacher. Two of the girls covered their mouths and started getting a little teary themselves. They hugged each other. What on earth was going?

 

“Who is Bashesh talking about Sir?” Roger asked. Roger was known for not minding his own business, and everyone knew that the question was not out of any real concern. It was just Roger being Roger.

“He’ll be fine,” said Mabuza in response to the rugby captain, ignoring Roger. He then turned and walked with Basheshebahleka towards the front of the bus to try and calm him down away from the students and his colleagues.

Tell us: What do you think is really going on with Bashehsebahleka?