It was one of my favourites.
My mother was really a top chef.
When she went to the bathroom, I waited a while to make sure she was in the bath.
She had two pots of water on the stove, so I would have about ten minutes to see what was in the pouch.
But that would have to wait.
There was a man at the gate.
He struggled to open it.
"Good evening, Uncle. Can I help you?"
I just wanted to stop him from fidgeting with the gate for who was he and what does he want this time of night?
"I am here for Debbie," he said.
His voice was rough and hoarse.
What would the guy want with my mom?
"She’s taking a bath. Who shall I say is here?"
"I'm Jerry. It’s not necessary to call her."
He fidgeted with the gate again.
"I will wait for her inside.”
I was not sure what to say or think.
You first had to lift the gate, before the bracket would come loose.
I closed it behind him and he followed me into the house.
"I'm sorry, Uncle, but we do not smoke in the house. My aunt has asthma and smoking can harm her chest."
You don’t go around smoking in strangers’ homes.
What was the man thinking?
I did not like him one bit.
He looked like a gangster.
Sure he smoked mandrax as well.
Broken bottle head pipe.
His lips were blue.
I could see he was not too happy when I told him he must smoke outside.
"Mommy! Here is a man looking for Mommy. He says his name is Jerry."
I stood in the kitchen and watched him.
"My world!"
My mom sounded surprised.
Excited too.
"I’ll be right there!"
I wondered what was going on.
Jerry finished smoking and entered the lounge.
He looked around.
Scratched about was more like it!
He was especially interested in my mother's silverware and ornaments.
When he saw me watching him, he left it alone and sat down on the couch.
"Lovely place you have here. Nice and cosy."
He made himself comfortable; too comfortable for my taste.
Legs stretched out.
My mother then came in.
She was at least dressed and not in her gown as usual.
"Oh, boy! Jerry!”
My mother walked past me into the lounge.
"What a pleasant surprise this is."
Jerry stood up and I could see he wanted to move forward to kiss my mother, but he looked up to me and they both turned.
"Jerry, this is my son, Sherwin."
My mother looked a little unsure of what to expect.
She looked down and gave her hair a slight touch up with her right hand.
"Nice to meet you," Jerry said, his hand extended out to me.
I walked to him and shook it.
He had a firm grip.
"Jerry is a friend of mine."
Her eyes avoided mine.
I could see that she was hiding something from me.
This Jerry was definitely more than just a friend.
I left his hand and stood back.
"Can I get you some coffee, black? Or some pea soup, if you would prefer?"
My mother looked nervous, but I had a feeling it was because I was there.
"Can’t I get coffee and some soup?"
I watched him.
"Sure," my mother smiled.
"Sherwin, put water on the stove and put the soup on high heat so it can warm up. It is probably cold already."
My mother sat next to Jerry and they started chatting.
She reminded me of Mrs October from school.
Mrs October always had this stupid expression on her face every time Mr Isaacs came into the classroom.
She also grinned strangely.
I did not like what I was seeing.
My mom saw me watching them.
"Sherwin, make the coffee. Jerry, sugar?"
"I take six, please. I have always had a sweet tooth."
He was full of smiles.
If I had such rotten teeth, I would not smile like that.
"You heard, Sherwin? And if you’re done with that, go do your homework."
"But Mommy, I have no homework."
"Then off to bed. Tomorrow’s school again.”
"Mommy, it’s barely past seven."
"Since when do you back chat? Where are your manners? I said to bed."
I made the coffee and went to my room.
Jerry gave me a look before I left.
It looked like he was mocking me.
My mother and this gangster had me completely uneasy.
How did she know him?
How long have they known each other?
As she sat with him and talked, it seemed they both knew each other well.
Though I tried, I could not think of anything else.
I tried eve’s dropping, but could not make out what they were saying.
I heard my mother laugh though.
That loud, outrageous laugh she had.
I was always certain the neighbours could hear her and thought what a crazy woman.
But then I remembered.
My mom hadn’t laughed like that in a long time.
Very long time.
When my father was alive.
Actually when he was still healthy.
Funny how some things could immediately take you back to something in your past.
I could see my father again on his deathbed.
That was last year.
He was so helpless.
His skin was so green and purplish.
But ashen.
It was horrible.
Even then his family did not visit.
Boers.
They disinherited him when he married the “hybrid filth”.
I could not believe these people.
How could you turn away your own flesh and blood, simply because he did not marry a Boer girl?
My mother struggled alone with my dad.
Day and night she sat with him.
To get him to hospital was always a struggle.
My mother could not drive, so she always called a taxi to come and they never had any patience.
It was because my father was a white man.
A Boer.
I heard them gossip about my mom and dad, but my mother paid no attention to their remarks.
She loved my father.
He took care of my mother.
Absolutely worshipped the ground beneath her feet.
He always made her laugh.
The memories made me sad.
The lump in my throat was there again just like then.
I turned on the radio and tried to forget about Mommy and Jerry.
There was nothing interesting on the radio.
I turned it off and lay in silence on my bed.
My cut didn’t hurt too much anymore.
My cut!
The black leather pouch!
I got my school bag from beneath the bed.
The leather pouch right at the top.
I could not tell what was inside.
The leather was thick.
Slowly I pulled the strings.
I was excited.
Like someone who had just received a gift.
I tried to guess what it would be, but what I came up with, just did not fit.
28 seemed that he would commit murder.
Scarface again looked afraid.
The jokes.
His face.
Hard, but uncertain.
Slowly I opened the pouch and stuck my hand in.
I could not see so well in the dark.
Could not turn on the light either, otherwise my mother would know I
wasn’t sleeping.
Inside the pouch there was another, stitched along the sides.
With yarn.
Now I was curious.
I bit the yarn loose.
Then the light went on.
I got such a fright.
I put the pouch back into the other, and let it fall off the bed, along the wall.
It was Aunty Anne.
She saw nothing.
"Are you sleeping yet?"
She sat on her bed and began to take off her shoes.
"Wow, I am exhausted. Today was the pits."
"Mommy told me to come to bed. She wanted to be alone with him."
Aunty Anne watched me and grinned.
"Oh, Sherwin. Why do you sound so angry? Is it because you need to sleep early or because your mother is entertaining a man?"
I could see she wanted an answer from me.
"No. Yes."
I shook my head and sat up straight on my bed.
I was not sure what I wanted to say, but one thing was sure.
I did not like the man one bit.
"I don’t like him. He looks like a gangster."
Aunty Anne shook her head like she agreed with me.
"Your mother always knew how to choose them. She always liked a bad boy. Your father was the only exception."
"But what do you mean, Aunty? Are Mommy and Jerry together?"
Now I was even angrier.
Is my mom sucking face with that gangster I wanted to ask.
"Sherwin, calm down. All I know is that the two of them have been together now for over two months. Whether they’re an item, I'm not sure, but by the look of things, "she rolled her eyes in the direction of the door," they look serious."
I threw myself back onto the bed.
The anger boiled from deep within me and I could feel it bubble right into my fists.
A bully had to look for trouble with me now.
Would smash him right into the ground.
I could not believe it.
My father was barely in the ground and here my mom is with someone else.
I said nothing further to Aunty Anne.
She asked me more questions, but when I turned my back to her, she stopped.
She disappeared to the bathroom for a while and was soon back in the room.
Light off and in bed.
"My sister deserves to be happy again."
I said nothing.
Aunty Anne prayed and after about five minutes she started snoring.
I could not sleep.
I still heard my mother and Jerry talking.
My mom deserves to be happy again.
That I agreed with.
But why should she be with this gangster?
Could she not find someone better?
***
I was awake before Aunty Anne.
Didn’t sleep much.
Jerry stayed till late.
I thought he would stay the night.
Really gets me angry just thinking of him again.
My mother must have her head examined.
I went to the bathroom outside.
It was still pretty dark.
Tarzan sounds came from the mosque’s direction.
Anubis slipped past me into the house.
He was my dog.
Dad got him for me when I was five years old.
Wolf dog.
Black as the night.
We were always together.
If I could, I would have taken him along to school as well.
I bet the bullies would not dare look in my direction.
Never mind touch me.
"Anubis! Come, Boy. Come out of the house, "I called softly.
My mom was okay with the dog, but Aunty Anne...
Wow!
Over react!
One would swear the dog had rabies, as she carried on when he was near her.
"Sherwin!"
Oh, dear.
There she goes.
"Sherwin! Take the bloody dog out of the room."
She was angry.
"The thing has a rat in its mouth! Sherwin!"
Anyone in the neighbourhood, who still wanted to sleep, could forget it.
A Rat?
Since when do we have rats?
Aunty Anne was once again seeing things that were not there.
She is more crazy then my mom, if you asked me.
"Anubis! Come out of the room!"
Anubis left the room and passed me into the backyard.
Seems Aunty Anne was not imagining things.
I could clearly see the rat's tail in Anubis’ mouth.
Poor thing was probably already dead.
Wonder where it came from.
We'll have to get rat poison.
"Anubis? Come, Boy, let me see."
He was burying it.
Just as well.
Would not want the dog to eat rats.
He covered the hole nicely and stood beside me.
Tail waving like it had a mind of its own.
"Morning, Boy. Morning!"
He pushed me to the ground and started licking my face.
"Hold... hold on," I said laughing.
It was slimy and ticklish.
Probably the rat's blood too.
“Arggg. No man," I tried to stop him, while still laughing.
"Anubis."
This time he got off me and sat beside me.
Tail still wagging.
Even in the dark, his pelt had a blue sheen.
Not a single white hair on his body.
Of all the dogs I've had over the years, my favourite was Anubis.
There was just something different about the dog.
He was ... intelligent.
It was as if he could sense my mood.
He knew when to play with me.
Or just lay beside me.
He was my dog.
I was his friend.
"Sorry I did not play with you yesterday, Boy.”
He looked at me intently.
As if he understood everything I was telling him.
"I found something. Stole it. From two gangsters."
He stopped wagging his tail and put his head to the side as if to ask "Why?"
"I don’t know, Anubis. Curiosity... I don’t know. The devil was busy with me again, if you ask me."
Anubis continued to look at me intently.
Head hanging sideways.
"I don’t even know what I stole. I just know it must be something valuable, by the way they were arguing about it. I'll have to wait until after school to see what it is.
Aunty Anne may not know.
Mommy neither.
You should not tell them anything.
Do you hear, Boy?"
Immediately he pushed me to the ground again and started licking me in my face.
v
1990
Today is my third month at this damn school.
Every day just like my first.
A nightmare.
The bullies were all too familiar to me.
Fat One and Banana Face were two cowards.
They took advantage of their size to pick on small guys like myself.
Fat One was of course fat.
Fat!
As he walked, it literally looked like he was rolling.
Him, I could easily outrun without trying.
Banana Face was big.
Or should I say he was much older.
He was fourteen.
Failed four times already.
This was his second year in Standard Two.
Stupid.
He repeated Sub B twice.
Standard One once.
This I heard as his own friends bad mouthed him.
How stupid can you be to call them friends?
A bully's brain does not function well.
The worst of the bullies was of course the one with only two top teeth.
Georgie.<
br />
He was... dangerous.
Cruel.
One wouldn’t say that by just looking at him.
The flat mouth always smiled – two top teeth and all.
He was almost like a clown, minus the white face and red nose.
He was always laughing and joking.
He was actually very funny.
Witty.
But he could go from smiling to cruel... (finger snap!)... Just like that!
He was volatile.
You could see his friends were afraid of him too.
He didn’t mind to kick your butt with the teachers watching.
He even called Mrs October a C once.
Right in her face.
She did nothing.
Only Mr Love didn’t take any crap from him.
Mr Love didn’t believe boys should be hit on their hands.
No.
He believed you should bend down and take your punishment like the man you think you are.
"If you want to be a man, take it like a man" was his motto.
I enjoyed it when he beat Georgie.
Georgie obviously took his punishments like a man.
Not a ‘boo’ or a ‘baa’ as the blows connected with his butt.
Only change in his face was the flat mouth that was firmly shut.
No sign of the two top teeth.
If you were responsible for the blows he received, then you’d better run home as soon as school ends.
Unless you enjoyed eating sand and being the laughing stock of everyone.
Not to mention bruised ribs.
The worst was that he stayed there where I could not avoid him.
I had to walk past his house to get to ours.
I do not know what I sinned so, to be punished so.
If there really was a God, why did He allow these things?
I didn’t tell my mom about this.
Suffer in silence.
The only things that made school bearable were Afrikaans and...
Simoné.
She, obviously, did not know of my existence.
Alone in love.
But what did a ten year old boy know about being in love?
Let's call it lonesome crush.
I wonder what André would do if he knew I had my eye on his girl.
Him, I feared not.
If we were to fight, I would kick his butt.
End of Chapter 1
Angels
i
Out of sight, out of mind.
What a lot of baloney.
2009
Everything reminds me.
No.
Screams.
Loud.
Chips away at the hole.
The place where you belong.
The place that I never really gave to you.
You've never taken it.
It was never mine to give, nor yours to take.
It was only yours.
The castle, in a small box, inside a small chest, in a small room of a tiny cabin.
My heart the cabin.
Your place - castle - part of my heart.
It is empty.
You are gone.
The hole eats away at the rest of my heart.
It hurts.
It burns.
Worst is, you never left.
You refuse to go.
You fight for what you are worth to keep your castle.
Don’t you know that nobody could ever take it away from you?
Do you not understand that it belongs to you?
That it is yours?
It was never mine to give to you.
Never yours to take.