I take off my shoes with holes at the bottom and put on the thin strops. Give me those ones, he orders me. I nearly hesitate but give him. What is he going to do with them? I walk out his flat and try not to think of my money as wasted but as protection money.
I can walk a little safer knowing that Allen has my money. Money is his language. It’s the only thing he remembers, everything else is unimportant. I wouldn’t be surprised tomorrow if he asked that girl who beat her up. Of course she would be forced to say that someone else beat her up in fear of upsetting him again. And then another stupid argument would start and more blood and tears. He’s totally messed up, Allen. I don’t know if he’s crazy or just likes playing games.
I feel tense and walk towards the bridge hoping 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.”
I pull hard from the joint till it burns my fingers and kill it. “Shibobo” melts into another song by TKZee but I forget its name. I take another large sip of mageu but leave some for Sealy. He disappears into a shack with Gerald. I take my time smoking the zol, patiently waiting for Sealy. I end up smoking the whole zol. My thoughts are like water. I sit and listen to the chaos of the people living under the bridge. Everything just sounds deurmekaar. A toddler walks up to me completely naked. She sits next to me on the bench and we look at each other for a while, a silly smile on my face.
“Jy! Trek aan jou klere!” Gerald yells and the toddler scurries away.
“What are you waiting for?” he says, standing over me. Sealy still hasn’t come out of the room. But I notice a pigeon flying around Gerald’s shack. The work of evil will never stop, I say to myself.
“Sealy,” I say, a little nervous.
“Jy’s dik geroek, nè?”
“Sorrie, ek bedoel Gerald.”
“Jy, tsek jou naai, ek is nie ’n kaffir nie,” he says and awakens my calm senses, with a fist across my face. I fall but pick myself up quickly and start running. I run out as quickly as I can. A few blocks away from the bridge I realise that I don’t have my flip-flops. I wait at least five minutes before I go back. Gerald is nowhere in sight but his car is there. I take my strops and run. “Jy, jy!” I hear him behind me but I keep running. Once far from the bridge I slow down and calm myself.
I feel thirsty and go to a public toilet on Bree Street. A security guard who works near the open parking lot looks at me funny, like I’m a thief or something. But he leaves me alone. At the basin I pour water over my face as it is boiling hot and drink till my stomach swells and I burp. I sigh and feel my high returning. The air is so hot it feels like breathing in a carpet. I take another large sip, this time listening to my throat swallowing mouthfuls of fresh water. Water, I love water, I say looking at myself in the mirror. But I can never look at myself too long in the mirror as my blue eyes remind me of the confusing messages they send out to people. I wear my blue eyes with fear because fear is deeper than shame. I see a large shadow moving towards the entrance of the toilet. I make my way out only to find the security guard and a Rottweiler on a loose leash. But I have a secret and that is I have a way with dogs. Ever since I was bitten by a dog when I was seven, dogs have never bothered me again. He flicks the dog leash but nothing happens. I don’t say anything. I just walk away.
I drift around town going to the station, the library, even taking a nap in the Gardens. I think of nothing but just enjoy my high. Fat pigeons that might be thugs or dirty politicians fly above me as I lie on the grass. Clouds form different shapes and disappear into the hot air. I could use another stop for tonight but I can’t go back to Gerald empty-handed.
I walk back to Sea Point, the air thick with the smell of sea water.
5
The last couple of days have been difficult. I can’t get a trick. No money means I can’t see Allen and I can’t go anywhere near the bridge. I walk around Sea Point nervously, keeping an eye out for Gerald’s white Grenada. And I can’t go to the bank because the bank has rules. Joyce said you can only take out your money on special days, not on weekends and you must give them a reason why you need the money, exactly like gangsters work. These clever gangsters that wear Italian suits, they are full of kak. Grown-ups are the same everywhere. They always want to control everything. All I want is a decent pair of shoes, to make up with Gerald and a Malawi stop to make me think I’m flying. Is that so much to ask for?
“Hei!” Bafana jumps at me from nowhere.
