Dog Eat Dog. Niq Mhlongo

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Dog Eat Dog - Niq Mhlongo Modern African Writing

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must act like a civilised person and apologise to Rachel for your apish behaviour. Then you must stand at the back of the line if you want to be helped in this office. Otherwise you will not receive any money from us,’ she said, dismissing me with a curt gesture using the back of her hand. It was a gesture that an angry owner uses to dismiss his troublesome dog.

      I did not know what to say. My mind was clouded. I could not think properly. I tried to open my mouth to say something but my lips seemed tightly sealed, as if they were glued together.

      With sudden energy I vented my anger, thumping the counter with a loud bang. Most of the files and papers that were on the counter fell down as a result. The coloured secretary Rachel and her overweight boss Ms Steenkamp lurched back, waiting to see what my next move would be. I began to swear, my voice building to a scream:

      ‘F-f-f-ffuu-ck!’

      That was all I could think to say to her at that moment. The way everyone looked at me, I guess nobody had ever said such a swearword in that office before. A moment of silence fell. I had lost my temper. I didn’t care anymore.

      ‘Nne-ver, ee-ver, I mean never ever ee-ever speak to me like that. Do you f-ffucken understand me, you fat bitch?’

      I have no idea where those words came from. Neither did I understand what they meant at the time. I didn’t even notice that two black security officers had been called and were standing right beside me. They were holding their knobkerries, but I couldn’t stop. The two security officers had arrived at the wrong time, when my anger was at its peak. I was not afraid of them, come what may.

      ‘Do y-you know who you are f-ffucking with?’ I moved back and forth like a heavyweight boxer who is ready to throw another punch. With my right fist I thumped hard on the counter. ‘I mean do you ugly fat ladies know who the f-ffuck I am? Do you want to lose your f-ffucken jobs because of what you have just f-ffucken said? Hhee?’

      ‘Ho! Ho! Please relax man. Insults are not worth it man. I understand you are angry,’ said the black security officer who was trying to calm me down. ‘But you are talking to ladies, remember?’

      I turned to the security officer. ‘Just shut up! I’m not f-ffucken talking to you,’ I said, pointing my forefinger at him.

      There wasn’t another word from him. I turned back to Ms Steenkamp.

      ‘Do you want to regret having seen me in this office today?’

      I paused and looked at the two ladies as if I was waiting for an answer. They were bloody scared. I opened my eyes wide as if the two ladies had just insulted the president of the country. My aim was to frighten them into thinking that I was some big name. They must think I’m the son of their employer, although their employer is probably white, I convinced myself.

      Everyone was watching me; I guess most of the people were trying to think where they might have seen me. Some of them must have thought for sure that I was the son of the Minister of Finance, or cousin of the President, or some important celebrity. But before I could vomit more insults, a white lady entered through the main door. She approached the counter, obviously surprised at the sight of the two security guards. Something in my enemies’ body language told me that somebody important had arrived.

      ‘My Gawd! What is going on here?’ she exclaimed. ‘I’m Dr Winterburn, the registrar in this office.’ She paused. ‘Is there some problem in this office I should know about?’

      I felt that I had to answer her before anybody else took advantage of the situation. I summoned all my courage to dispel the anger that was already clouding my mind, and said as calmly as I could:

      ‘This lady here called me an ape when I came to see Registrar Winterburn, and I demand to lodge a formal complaint to her sup . . .’

      Before I could finish my sentence the secretary with the narrow forehead interrupted me.

      ‘Ja. You think you’re clever mos. Say what you were saying before. Come on say it now. Tell her.’

      ‘Never shout and point at me like that,’ I warned her.

      ‘Let’s not be emotional and . . .’ said Dr Winterburn, looking at me.

      ‘Who’s emotional?’ I snapped.

      ‘I mean, it’s natural to be emotional and I understand how you feel,’ she said patronizingly.

      Her attitude made my blood boil.

      ‘Listen here! Are you coming to take sides or have you taken them already?’

      ‘No no no. We don’t take sides in this office,’ she countered defensively. That’s where I wanted her, on the defensive. ‘I’m only trying to find out what happened because I’m the one in charge here. Please don’t misunderstand me.’

      ‘OK then. These two ladies insulted me by calling me an ape.’

      The two secretaries hissed as I tried to explain, but Dr Winterburn shushed them.

      ‘Ms Steenkamp, is it true that you called this man an ape?’ she asked, trying hard to be fair.

      Ms Steenkamp gave a little derisive laugh, her eyes blinking in disbelief. ‘No! Jeez! Good heavens!’ she exclaimed. ‘I did not call him an ape.’ She paused. ‘I was called by Rachel to come and talk to this guy who was forcing his way into the office instead of standing like the other students in the line and waiting for somebody to help him.’ She paused with her finger still pointing at the queue. ‘So I said to him he should stop his apish behavior. My God! I can’t believe this!’

      Ms Steenkamp tried hard to make herself look more innocent.

      ‘You see! That’s what I don’t appreciate,’ I said, feigning horror. Like lightning, I flicked my eyes from Ms Steenkamp to Dr Winterburn. ‘And she is repeating it right in front of you, saying that my behaviour is apish. That is like saying that I was socialised with apes and I should be living in the mountains or the zoo. Is that what you see when you look at a black person like me?’

      ‘Bullshit! That is not true. I didn’t . . .’ said Rachel.

      ‘What did you say just now?’ I snapped again.

      Silence fell while Dr Winterburn considered our statements. The look on her face told me that she was siding with me.

      ‘Rachel, what happened before you called Ms Steenkamp?’ enquired Dr Winterburn.

      ‘This gentleman came straight over to the counter and I had to tell him to go back to the end of the line. When he refused to do so I had to call Ms Steenkamp.’

      Like a judge in a court of law, Dr Winterburn turned and faced me. ‘And why did you refuse to follow those procedural orders?’

      ‘Dr Winterburn, I know all about the procedures here.’I paused. ‘For me to make an appointment to see you in this office all I need to do is sign a form which is inside those files.’ I paused again and pointed at the files, which had been picked up off the floor by one of the security guards. ‘And not to stand in the queue with the other students.’

      I paused and looked at Dr Winterburn. She was nodding in agreement. ‘I was coming to do just that when these two ladies here tried to

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