that Liesel will be there.
I’ve learned something from Allen and that is money is everything. It’s everything because you can get a house and call the shots. When you’re dressed properly grown-ups give you a bit of respect. But as long as I’m me and have no home and wear tattered clothes Allen will never give me proper clothes because that would mean that I can look like him. And no one who knows Allen looks like him. He makes sure of that. Even if it means he strips you himself. He always has to outdress you, outsmart you. It’s his way. It’s the grown-up way. He only wears Nike shoes and expensive jeans and tops. He always gives me clothes that are just about to fall apart, so that I’m always dependent on him. So that I will always go back to him for more and spend my money on him. But I understand. I have to do it. It’s the only way I can be safe on the streets. There are too many monsters out there.
4
I get to the bridge and find that Liesel is not there. So I hang around Ma Zakes’ spaza shop with Sealy. He buys me mageu and rolls a joint.
“Keep an eye out for the pigs,” he says.
“Sure.”
“Where were you last night?”
“Why?”
“Gerald fucked up this one guy with a goni because he called him driver as he got into his cab.”
“Who was that stupid naai?”
“Liesel’s outie. You checked him. He thinks he’s hard because he’s in Hard Livings.”
“Ja, I know him. He’s a real poes.”
“I checked you like Liesel.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t give me that shit. You only buy your stop from her.”
“Ja, because she doesn’t make me wait like you ouens.”
“Ag voetsek, you just want to naai her.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Ay but you’re full of kak. You never know what’s going inside your head.”
He lights up the joint and takes a long drag. TKZee belt out “Shibobo” from Ma Zakes’. I take a sip of mageu and let it settle at the back of my throat. Sealy bobs his head in rhythm. He’s a bastard on the dance floor. He can outdance anyone and he’s got style. That’s why Gerald likes him. Gerald comes in with his white Ford Grenada. He makes a lot of noise before he parks it outside his shack not far from where we are sitting.
“Away, Sealy,” he shouts as he gets out of the car.
“Away, Gerald,” Sealy says and gets up to dance. I watch him from the bench, his feet shuffling pantsula-style, a cool sleepy look on his face. Just before he goes to Gerald he gives me his joint and another stop.
“Swaai us another pilletjie, ek sê.”
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