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If the apricot trees of Soweto could talk, what stories would they tell? This short story collection from Niq Mhlongo provides an imaginative answer as it captures the vibrancy of the township and surrounds.
Told with satirical flair, life and death intertwine in these tales where funerals and the ancestors feature strongly; where cemeteries are places to show off a new car and catch up on gossip.
This is an extract from “Turbulence”.
“Are you EFF or ANC?” she asks doubtfully, as if afraid to overstep the bounds of our friendship.
“Neither really, but I support most of what the EFF says about sharing our beautiful land. I also support most of what the ANC has done to this country. I’m in between, if you like.”
Her face breaks into a forced smile. Our overhead lights are off, and I can only see the whites of her eyes. She bends over and looks like she is gasping for breath. She clears her throat with a few drops of water from her plastic bottle.
“That’s why I’m going to Perth. First, I will stop at my daughter Tanya’s place in Abergavenny, in Wales. She is married there to a nice Welshman. Maybe one can find happiness in those distant places of Wales and Australia, away from what I used to call home. Since this ANC took over, the white people in South Africa have no other refuge, but they are a target of some blacks. There are a lot of good black people. But there is no protection from the ruling party for white people. Look at the farmers that are being killed every day.”
“You think so. But all this is a legacy of apartheid. It was a system of violent oppression and dispossession. At least you have a place to run to, and you’re welcome in Europe because you’re white. I can’t go to Zimbabwe or Mozambique, unfortunately, because they are worse than South Africa. Unlike you, Europe cannot accept me. I’m stuck with Zuma and Malema.”
“The problem is that this ANC government is rewarding their cronies with tenders. This has become a shortcut to power and money. There are no opportunities for capable and qualified people. The government has made hardworking black people lazy and over-reliant on social grants. It is bad. It’s just like the land issue. Everyone wants land in the urban areas. But there is so much land in the rural areas. Land is land. People must understand that the only open land that is left in South Africa exists in rural areas, but no one wants that. That is the nature of our stupidity and incompetence. And it is perpetrated by the stupid ANC government.”
I let her speak without interrupting while I fortify myself with my gin and tonic. She smiles such a kindly smile, as if she thinks she is an old friend of mine. I nod sleepily. The time is ten past eleven. The person in front of me is snoring loudly. The turbulence worsens. Outside, it is thundering so hard that everyone stops talking. The overhead lights go on and off a few times and the monitor screens flicker. The smell from the toilet perfume thickens and blocks my nose.
Elsabe blows her nose several times. We have to hold on to our drinks so that they don’t fall off the tray tables. We are silent as though by prearrangement. The turbulence stops after some twenty minutes, and Elsabe starts talking again. Read more at booklive.co.za
Soweto, Under the Apricot Tree by Niq Mhlongo (Kwela, R245)