Short Story: Fair and Foul
‘O what a battle this week has been! Don’t you think bra?’ Madaki throws his arm around Beneke’s large shoulders as they stroll towards the car, parked and waiting for them outside the office. ‘Ah but it has all paid off my friend. You have worked so hard for this, we must celebrate! I know the perfect place,’ Beneke says as he quickly inspects the car before allowing Madaki to enter. ‘No no, I need to get back, I’m exhausted. I should probably see Elna too, she’ll be waiting.’ ‘O don’t worry about her bra, she’s a patient woman. We won’t be out long anyway, and I’ll keep you safe, that’s what they pay me for.’ Beneke grins and leans forward to greet the driver, ‘Molo, kunjani? Take us to Thuthuka Jazz Café in Gugulethu.’ ‘Eish, why there?’ Madaki asks. ‘Trust me bra, it’s the best place to go when you want to get out of Cape Town,’ Beneke says. Madaki ignores him and takes out his phone, logging onto his emails. Beneke grabs it from his hands and throws it onto the front seat. It startles the driver and the car swerves, though he quickly gains control again. ‘Xolo! Xolo!’ Beneke shouts, patting the driver on the shoulder. ‘You trying to kill us man?’ ‘Relax bra, come on, it will be fun. No more phones. The driver will pick us up later.’ Beneke pauses and looks out his window. ‘You mustn’t forget your past, Madaki.’
A saxophone can be heard as they reach Thuthuka. Beneke is already tapping his feet as he opens the car door for Madaki, who glares at him but can’t help cracking a smile as he watches the giant man skip inside. ‘Moloweni! Moloweni!’ Beneke shouts as he enters, greeting every welcoming face he encounters. The café is hustling with people of all ages, helping themselves to the potjiekos dispersed around the yard over open fires. Madaki sits down at a table near the band and observes the different faces that surround him. Some wrinkly, some pale, some dark, some attractive, some questionable. He watches the saxophonist perform his solo, transfixed. Beneke slams a large glass of beer in front of him and shouts, ‘To Madaki, the new Secretary-General of the ANC, the political party of the greats! Some days may be foul and others fair, but you are on the road to success my friend, don’t let anyone get in your way!’ He raises his glass to Madaki, who is looking around for others who may be listening. No one is. He raises his glass too and smiles at his life-long friend and protector. He drinks. And he drinks. And he drinks.
It’s close to 3am. Madaki and Beneke stagger down the empty streets of Gugulethu. Only the distant bark of a dog and occasional clang of metal can be heard. Beneke attempts to call the driver but he drops his phone and it smashes, spectacularly. Madaki laughs and sticks his arm out into the road to hail an invisible car to stop. As Beneke sits on a bench, attempting to fix the unfixable, Madaki notices a glowing blue sign swinging back and forth above a shop opposite. He begins to feel nauseous as he watches it and runs across the road determined to stop it. ‘Madaki. O great Madaki. Powerful Madaki.’ Whispers. He does not hear them. The giant eye on the sign mocks him. He jumps, he lands, he stumbles and falls. Beneke runs over to help him to his feet. ‘Eish, sorry bra. I think we better – arghh!’ Madaki points at three women standing in the dark alley in front of them, staring intensely. Beneke pulls him back and stretches out an arm the size of a tree trunk to shield him. ‘What weird looking women,’ Beneke murmurs. ‘That one has odd marks around her chin, like a beard. Why is it that they are all dressed in the same black clothes? And look at their jewellery, shaped like knives, or are they real knives that hang round their necks? Masambe!’ ‘Be quiet Beneke, andazi.’ Madaki pushes his arm away and addresses the women, ‘What are you looking at? Do you want money? Go on, say something…if you can.’ ‘O we can do far more than that, Madaki. Won’t you come see our shop? You have already tried to tear down our sign,’ the tallest woman utters. Madaki squints back up at the sign. A blur. Though he can make out two words, HEAL and FORTUNE. Beneke shakes his head aggressively and turns Madaki around to walk away. ‘You will share his success, Beneke. Such great reward you will reap. You will be happy, happier even,’ the woman beckons. The men stop and stare over their shoulders. ‘Come, we will tell you more.’
They follow the women down the dark alley and up a steep, narrow staircase. Madaki pants as he reaches the top. A pungent smell greets him. The room is filled with jars containing luminous liquids and weird herbs dangling from the ceiling. A potijie cooks something that isn’t ordinary meat in the corner. Madaki leans against the wall, his head spinning, and picks up one of the jars. He shakes it. A lizard’s leg floats to the top. He slams it down and runs to the window to vomit. Beneke collapses by the door, snoring like a bear. ‘Do you feel better now? Come, sit. Be still. I will tell you your fortune. Place your left arm on the table. That’s right. Close your eyes,’ orders the marked woman. Madaki obeys. He flinches as she spreads a paste-like substance onto the centre of his forearm. One of them cackles. The sound surrounds him. It echoes. ‘O Madaki, great Secretary-General. How well you have done. A warrior, a victor. O Madaki, great Deputy President, so powerful, so strong. O Madaki, what have you done…President of South Africa for as long as you may live.’ The women continue to chant his fortune. He feels them spread more pastes and liquids onto his skin. Something trickles down from his forehead into his mouth. He tastes it. Blood.
‘President! O yes, I can see it, I can!’ Madaki shouts. ‘Will you shut the hell up man, I am trying to sleep,’ Elna grumbles. He is back in his home, in his bed. He sits up violently and stares around the room, his eyes bulging. ‘Elna! How did I get home last night?’ he asks, his voice gravelly. ‘I don’t know and I don’t care,’ Elna says, frowning deeply, her eyes still closed. ‘I feel like a new man today, Elna. My head is pounding, but my heart is racing. I don’t know what happened but I feel as if I could take over the world. Won’t you do it with me?’ he roars, shaking Elna and jumping out of bed. ‘What the hell have you been drinking Michael?’ Elna sits up, dazed. Madaki grabs his phone. No text from Beneke. Oh right, he remembers, his phone smashed. He stares out the window and places a hand on his forehead, so warm. Table Mountain is wearing its white cloth this morning. Such a strange night. The three women. It’s all coming back to him. The fortune. Did it really happen? Could it be true? No, of course not. But could it? ‘What will be will be,’ he mutters. ‘What will be, will be.’