Previously... Emma had shared her research about the ‘conversion therapy’ with Simon... “Why are you telling me this?” asked Kabelo. Emma and Simon had bugged him and bugged him until he let them come over to his place. They sat on the sofas in his small living room. “Because I care about you Kabelo,” said Simon. “I don’t want you to get involved in anything that is going to mess with your mind.” Kabelo fingered the printouts Simon and Emma had laid out on the coffee table in front of him. Countless testimonials of people who had gone through the ‘conversion therapy,’ only to figure out that it was a hoax, and an impossible venture. Thousands of rands, poured down the drain by unhappy young men and women trying to change something about themselves that society hated. Three suicides in the UK. As many as 12 in the USA. The numbers were compelling. “Don’t you see? What if I offered a cure for black people to become white? Don’t you see how crazy that is?” Simon asked. “That’s not that same thing, and you know it,” said Kabelo, still annoyed that Simon and Emma were so set against what he was doing. “What he means, Kabelo, is that being gay is as fixed and as random as having, say blue eyes – there’s nothing you can do about it. And you shouldn’t have to try and change it. There’s nothing wrong with you.” Kabelo looked at Emma, his face in front of frustration. ‘What do you know about it, miss? Do you know what it’s like to be teased your whole life, called a moffie, threatened, chased, ridiculed?” Emma shut her mouth. “Exactly,” said Kabelo. “Kabelo…you know I’m right,” said Simon. “Ah, screw this,” said Kabelo huffily, before getting up. “Ok, you’ve made your point. And I can see the evidence. I just feel so…stuck, ok? I’m stuck. And I have to go through it alone. I don’t want you two here right now. You need to leave.” Kabelo was visibly distraught. His mind was buckling with all the information. His own sense of self hung in the balance delicately. “Please, for my sake,” he said, “please leave. I need to be alone.” Simon and Emma nodded. Emma put the collection of papers into her bag and stood. “Thank you,” said Kabelo, and gave Simon an unexpected hug. He then pulled away rapidly, awkwardly. “Thank you for caring, Simon. It means a lot to me.” Simon smiled softly. Simon and Emma exited. Kabelo felt like punching a wall. He felt like throwing the TV out the window. He felt like screaming up at the sky, “What do you want from me?” But he didn’t do any of these things. Kabelo’s way of working things out was through movement. He put on his running shoes and prepared to go for a run. Meanwhile... Mala rushed to Nigel’s side. Natasha stood looking on in worried horror, a sarong draped around her hips. “Help me,” he instructed. “Help me lift him.” Nigel was wet from the shower floor and slippery. It was difficult to manoeuvre him. Adrenaline gave Natasha extra strength. With a lot of heaving, she and Mala managed to pick Nigel up and move him indoors onto the reed matting. Natasha was wringing her hands. “What do we do?” she wailed. “First thing we need to do,” said Mala, ‘is know what kind of snake it was.” Mala was a man in his fifties with white-flecked hair. He was a native of Lamu and spoke the language. He always wore a cap. “Do you remember?” Natasha tried to remember the appearance of the horrible thing. “How big was it?” asked Mala. “Try to remember. It’s very important.” He had his hand on Nigel’s wrist, feeling for pulse. Nigel kept silent. He was looking between the two helplessly. The pain of the bite was horrible, and getting worse. Natasha held her hands out to indicate the size. “Colour?” asked Mala. “Black, dark black,” said Natasha, remembering. “Ok, and this is important, did it have white stripes near the end?” Natasha pushed her mind to remember. She was still so panicked, it was hard to think clearly. “I don’t know! I don’t know!” she cried. “It did,” said Nigel, faintly. Mala’s face relaxed somewhat. “That is the Ringed Tree Snake. Big, and scary, but it is not venomous.” “But,” said Nigel, not understanding, “the pain…” “It is swelling. With pills it will go down. And antiseptic. But Nigel, you’re out of the woods.” “You mean…” Natasha’s words came out stilted. “He’ll live,” said Mala, taking off his hat and fanning Nigel’s sweating face with it. “Still, he needs to come to the infirmary. He’s had quite a shock.” Meanwhile, back in Breyton’s Bay: Ntobeko was signing in for work at the pizza delivery depot. He waited while two young white guys wrote their name in the ledger. There were six of them on call that evening. Phones were ringing. Ntobeko could smell the scent of pizza as it wafted through from the kitchens. He must try and remember to get some to take home afterwards – he knew the drivers got free pizza. Just as he was about to sign in, he noticed someone coming through the swing doors “I’m just saying Schalk, when you get a woman’s uniform, then I’ll wear it. Till then, I’m in jeans and a jacket, sorry.” This was being said by an attractive young black woman exiting the kitchen doors with a stack of six pizzas in her arms. Schalk, the stand-in while the manager was away, followed her worriedly. “But Puleng, we have a corporate image to uphold.” “I know. But your corporate image only has male uniforms sweetie. They won’t fit me. So, sort it out with Davis and get back to me when it’s done.” She was sassy. Schalk, muttering under his breath, went back into the kitchen angrily. The vibrant young woman laid her stack of pizzas on the counter, and checked her money pouch, seeing she had all her change with her. “Can you believe that guy?” she asked of Ntobeko. “I can’t believe I’m taking crap from some 17 year old!” “Ja, neh!” said Ntobeko, glad someone so lovely was chatting to him, even if it was in a colleague-to-colleague capacity. He wondered who the young woman was. “I’m Puleng, by the way. Driver. See you cats later.” With that, she put on a motorcycle helmet and padded jacket. She walked out the place, pizzas in a foil bag, with her hips swaying. Ntobeko watched her walk out, impressed. Coming Soon Will Kabelo be able to accept himself for who he is?
Posted on: Thu, 11 Dec 2014 08:50:28 +0000
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