The Hidden Star E-Book

K. Sello Duiker

• Herausgeber: CASSAVA REPUBLIC
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 386

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

Nolitye lives in a shack with her mother Thembi in Phola, a dusty township on the edge of Johannesburg. She is good at maths and likes collecting stones, which she places in a bucket under her bed. She also has unusual powers: she can communicate with dogs. Nolitye has two close friends, Bheki, who is overweight, and the bespectacled Four Eyes, who join with her to resist the bullying from Rotten Nellie and her gang of Spoilers. One day, Nolitye finds a special stone that has the power to make people feel happy and laugh. Her mission from now on is to gather together the other pieces of the stone and reunite them, to stop darkness from taking control of her world.

Leseprobe

CONTENTS

Title PageONE: A Cry In The NightTWO: The Precious FindTHREE: Strange PowersFOUR: Fatcakes And FunFIVE: The ChallengeSIX: The Night ProwlersSEVEN: The DuelEIGHT: A Strange DreamNINE: Fire!TEN: The TestELEVEN: A Dog Called MisterTWELVE: A Pleasant SurpriseTHIRTEEN: The TricksterFOURTEEN: The QueenFIFTEEN: The RaceSIXTEEN: The JourneyAbout the AuthorCopyright

THERE IS A PLACE, far from the quiet suburbs where one knows one’s neighbours only by name and never sees them. A place where children run idle in the streets while their parents labour in the big City of Gold to bring home food and hope for a better tomorrow. It is a place called Phola, a place with nothing much to brag about except that all the shacks face the morning sun and the inhabitants for the most part live together in peace. Until recently it was a very ordinary place to live.

For a while now, however, neighbourhood children have been disappearing from the midst of their families and friends, and no one knows what has become of them. None of the residents of Phola, however, want to talk openly amongst themselves about what is mentioned in whisper only.

Of late, Phola is no longer an ordinary place to live.

Chapter One

A CRY IN THE NIGHT

NIGHT has fallen. The moon bathes the tiny homes in a milky light, but the harsh bright lights of tall street lamps wipe the soft shadows from the dwellings at their feet. The air is still and warm, with moths whirring about in search of a light to dance around. Mamani, the woman who sells food, sits by an open fire outside her shack, roasting mealies. She swats at the mosquitoes that whizz about her neck, her arms and the sleeping toddler strapped to her back. The high-pitched buzzing irritates her. From the far end of Phola, music blares from a ghetto blaster and people can be heard laughing and dancing to the infectious rhythm of kwaito music. A pack of stray dogs has gathered near a rubbish bin. They are thin and their coats are mangy, and at any sudden movement they bare their teeth in vicious snarls. A black-and-white cat with half its tail missing struts in the moonlight, unaware of the danger. As it rounds a corner near the rubbish bin, the dogs stop sniffing for food and with wild yelps dash after it. In their mad chase they bump an old couple out of the way and knock over a basin with water that someone has left outside her door. Angry curses are hurled at the scraggy cat and unruly dogs. Finally the cat jumps onto the roof of a shack, leaps onto the next and vanishes into the night, leaving the disappointed dogs aimlessly sniffing about.

In the distance a police siren wails, but the children playing hide-and-seek in the maze of shanties do not hear it. Their only worry is not to stray too far from their homes, because of late their parents have become very strict about that.

In a nearby shack a girl is sitting at a small table, staring at an open book. Next to the open book an alarm clock softly ticks away the seconds. A short candle casts a faint yellow light on the cardboard-covered corrugated-iron walls and the lino floor. In one corner of the room there is a single bed, in another there is a table and two chairs. A small wardrobe and an old kitchen unit are propped against the wall opposite the door.

The girl sighs. She is tired, but she knows she can’t go to sleep until her homework is done. She is also worried, because the candle is about to burn out and it is their last one.

Nolitye is short for her eleven years, with dreadlocks that fall to her shoulders, and big, shiny eyes that light up when she smiles.

Nolitye turns and looks to where her mother Thembi is asleep, curled up on the single bed with her back to Nolitye. Nolitye and her mother do not have much money, but their clothes, although old and a little tattered, are always clean, and they have tried to make the shack as homely as possible. The wall behind the bed is decorated with a poster of two hands joined together in prayer. The room is always neat.

Outside a dog suddenly barks. Nolitye knows who has caused the disturbance. It would be Ntate Matthews stumbling between the tightly- packed shanties. Every full moon Ntate Matthews drinks too much and when he’s tipsy he’s usually disorderly, his mouth quick to insult anyone or anything that crosses his path.

The dog barks more loudly. Nolitye pushes her book aside. It must be Rex, she guesses. Like most township dogs, he is a mixed breed, a big, sturdy black mongrel with hanging ears. He sometimes looks friendly, but mostly shows his fangs in a snarl. He is the leader of the pack of four strays that roam their area.

“Get away, you ugly thing! Hamba!” Ntate Matthews shouts. “Shut up, you ugly thing!”

Nolitye knows the shouting only makes Rex more vicious. She can imagine Rex moving closer, ready to attack, saliva drooling from his fangs.

Now Ntate Matthews is kicking an empty tin at the dog and growling like a mad animal himself. More dogs are barking outside.

Nolitye tries to forget about the noise outside. She pulls her Maths book closer. She must finish her homework before the candle burns out! Maths is her favourite subject. She likes the simplicity of playing with figures and the fact that, if she does the sums carefully, she always gets the answers right.

“I said, get away, you beast!” Ntate Matthews shouts so loudly that Nolitye peeps over her shoulder. Her mother is still fast asleep. She snores softly. Nolitye can’t ignore the racket outside any longer. Now even the neighbours are yelling at Ntate Matthews. An irresistible urge overcomes her and she quietly gets up.

“You big drunk, why don’t you go home and sleep!” someone shouts.

“Ag shut up.” Ntate must have fallen over himself, because someone bursts out laughing.

“You won’t be laughing when your kids start disappearing,” Ntate

Matthews says.

As Nolitye tiptoes to the door, a young man’s voice asks, “What rubbish is this guy talking now?”

“Watch your mouth. You young people think you know it all today,” Ntate Matthews grumbles.

Before Nolitye can turn the key in the lock, her mother stirs. “And where do you think you’re going, young lady?” she asks sleepily.

Nolitye freezes. “I was just … uh going to get some water for the kettle, Mama.”

“What? We filled the bucket together this afternoon.”

“Oh yes … I forgot,” she says, caught out.

“Nolitye.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Don’t lie to me. I know you wanted to go outside.”

“Just one stone, Mama, please.”

“You’re always collecting stones. There’s already a bucketful of your silly stones under the bed.” Thembi sits up. “Is it that stupid name your granny gave you that makes you do it? ‘Keeper of the Stone’, ‘Keeper of Knowledge’- where have you ever heard of such a name? I wonder who put it in her head.”

“The stones are not silly, Mama. And my name is not stupid. Gogo said: you mess with a woman, you mess with a stone.”

“But your grandmother didn’t mean you should collect a stone every time you hear a noise outside. You know Ntate Matthews always does this and the following morning he just gets up as if nothing has happened.”

“I know, Mama. But I just have to. Please.”

She pulls a face that would make any mother’s heart melt. Thembi sighs. “Okay, but don’t be long. You still have to finish your homework and the candle is almost burnt out.”

“Thanks, Mama! I won’t be long. I promise.”

Nolitye doesn’t bother putting on shoes. She turns the key and closes the door quickly, before the candle can blow out.

Ntate Matthews is still staggering between the shanties, shouting at the top of his voice. Rex and the other dogs are circling around him, snarling.

“Get up, you lazy people, and kill these stupid beasts!” Ntate Matthews yells. “And what are you staring at?” he lashes out when he notices Nolitye watching him.

She turns her gaze away but from the corner of her eye sees Ntate Matthews trying to kick another empty can. This time he trips and falls on his bum. More people have come out of their shacks, some in their sleepwear. Everyone laughs raucously. Nolitye can’t help but giggle.

“Shut up, you idiots!” Ntate Matthews slurs. “You don’t know who I am,” he says, pointing drunkenly at his chest. He burps and everyone pulls a disgusted face.

“Yes, we do,” a young man answers back. “You’re just a lousy no-good. Go home and sleep.”

The man dismisses Ntate Matthews with the wave of a hand and saunters off. The other neighbours also disappear into their shacks and leave Ntate Matthews to his drunken state and the dogs.

Rex grabs Ntate Matthews’s trousers at the ankle and doesn’t let go.

Ntate Matthews swings his other leg and gives the dog a cruel kick that sends it moaning. But seconds later Rex returns, teeth bared. The other dogs close in around Ntate Matthews, ready to attack. Rex opens his jaws, growling ferociously.

“Rex, don’t do it!” Nolitye tells the dog. “He’s just a harmless old man.”

“Who says I’m old? I can still give you a beating,” Ntate Matthews is quick to say.

“He’s got a big mouth.”

“You little brat! What do you mean, I’ve got a big mouth?”

“I didn’t say that,” Nolitye says.

“I may be drunk but I’m not a fool,” Ntate Matthews insists. “Then get up and go home, you stupid man.”

Ntate Matthews, who has been watching Nolitye closely, frowns. He opens his mouth, but no words come out.

“What’s the matter? The cat got your tongue?” Rex says to his face. The other dogs relax and mill around with wagging tails. Ntate Matthews rubs his eyes.

“What is going on? Who is behind this witchcraft?” he demands, surprisingly sober.

“So now he knows the secret. Big deal,” one of the other dogs growls, an equally big dog, but brown with one pointy and one floppy ear and a dark ridge of wrong-way-round hair running down his back.

Ntate Matthews shakes his head. “I must be very drunk,” he mumbles to himself.

“Don’t worry, Ntate Matthews,” Nolitye tries to comfort him. “But how can these strays talk?” he asks urgently.

“Hey, watch your mouth,” Rex growls. “We’re not strays, we live here.” Ntate Matthews gives him a bewildered look.

“I don’t know why you can hear them, Ntate Matthews. Only children are supposed to hear animals talk,” Nolitye explains, a little furrow on her forehead.

“It’s because he’s drunk,” Rex explains. “Freaky, but it sometimes happens like that with grown-ups. He’ll probably wake up tomorrow and not remember a thing.”

“But he’ll have a stinking hangover and a headache,” a tiny dog with a long body and long whiskers, a thin tail and ears like a bat’s gleefully yelps.

Ntate Matthews stands with his mouth open. He feels a little dizzy. It is too much for him to accept that animals, dogs of all things, can talk. His face screws up in fright. He holds his cheeks in his hands and shakes his head.

“Are you alright?” Nolitye asks.

“I knew I was drinking too much. Now I can hear dogs talking. What’s happening to me?” He starts wheezing.

“Relax, it’s not the end of the world. You’re drunk, remember?” Rex taunts him.

“Yes, I’m drunk,” Ntate Matthews says, trying to calm himself. “I’m drunk and this is just a bad dream.”

“That’s right,” Rex agrees.

“A very deep and very bad dream,” Ntate Matthews mumbles.

“What were you drinking anyway?” Rex asks.

Ntate Matthews pinches himself hoping that he will snap out of whatever it is that makes him hear dogs talk. Then he gives himself a hard slap on the cheek.

“You can’t like yourself very much if you do that,” Rex comments.

“It’s useless,” Ntate Matthews sighs. “I’ve lost my mind.”

With his shoulders hunched he starts sobbing. And then, in the middle of his tears, he lets out a long burp that sounds just like a growl.

The sound delights Rex and his pack. Nolitye too can’t suppress a laugh. “It’s not funny,” Ntate Matthews says and wipes away his tears.

“That’ll teach you not to drink more than you should. And you know what? I still want to bite you!” And Rex playfully bares his fangs.

Ntate Matthews gasps, straightens up and takes a step back. “Rex, be nice,” Nolitye reprimands him.

“I was only joking. I just wanted him to stop crying.”

“So if you’re Rex, who are the others?” Ntate Matthews asks, embarrassed.

Rex keeps flashing his fangs to intimidate Ntate Matthews. “I’m Rex, and don’t forget it. Half of me may be Labrador, but the other half is Rottweiler. I’m the big gun around here. All the neighbourhood dogs and cats know and respect me. Even Mandla, the donkey. So don’t cross my path.”

Nolitye smiles. Rex isn’t always as tough as he makes himself out to be. Sometimes, when his fighter instincts take over, he is as mean as a hungry hyena; at other times, he is playful and likeable . But that doesn’t happen a lot.

“Guys, introduce yourselves,” Rex tells the other dogs.

“I’m Ticks. They say I am a true African dog, a cross between a ridgeback and something else … a Doberman, I think my mother said,” the brown dog with the ridge on his back says and starts scratching his stomach.

“He’s always doing that,” Rex explains, “that’s why we call him Ticks.” The little dog with the long body wiggles forward. He stares at Ntate Matthews with bulging eyes and shakes his furry coat. “What’s your name?” Ntate Matthews asks.

“Just because I’m little doesn’t mean I don’t bite,” the small dog growls. “He’s called Whiskers because he’s got long whiskers like a catfish. Who knows, maybe he’s half fish,” Ticks teases him.

“Shut up, or I’ll give you a flea bath,” Whiskers yelps. “Chihuahua and dachshund, that’s what I am!”

“Hey, you can’t be a dog and not itch. Then you’re just a pet.” Ticks closes his eyes and gives himself a good, long scratch.

“Guys,” Rex says, putting them in order. He’s always in charge.

“Hold on,” the last dog says. “What about me? Shorty, the ladies’ man.” Shorty, who is actually a little taller than Rex, is a good-looking dog with quite a thick long-haired coat. Compared to the others, he looks in good condition. He’s a two-tone: black-backed with a tan stomach and legs. He has large pointed ears and a pink tongue curls from his long snout. In fact, except for his unimpressive tail, he looks very much like the dogs that ride around with the police in their vans.

“There always has to be a smarty-pants,” Rex says irritated. “I suppose you get your name from your short tail,” Ntate Matthew deduces.

“Spot on. Lost it in a dogfight,” Shorty informs him.

“To one ugly dog called Beastie.” Whiskers shivers at the thought.

“Beastie?” Ntate Matthews asks.

“You don’t want to know him,” Ticks says, giving himself an after-scratch shake. “If ever there was such a thing as the meanest dog in the world, Beastie would be that dog. They say he’s half hyena. You would think it too if you saw him.”

The conversation is cut short when MaMtonga, who lives next to Nolitye and her mother, opens her door and rinses out a bucket.

“Well, it was nice meeting you all,” Ntate Matthews says, now more or less sober.

“Ja, and next time don’t swear at us,” Rex warns him.

“I won’t do that again, believe me.”

“What are you still doing here, Ntate? Talking to dogs?” The woman shakes her head. “You must be mad.”

“Mind your own business, wena,” Ntate Matthews answers back and clucks his tongue at her.

She goes back inside, clearly in no mood to argue with him.

Whiskers picks up a scent in the air and starts sniffing. “Do you guys smell what I smell?” he asks. They all sniff the air.

“Someone’s having a braai,” Shorty says, “and you know what that means.”

“Bones!”

“See you later, Nolitye. And you - what do we call you?” he asks Ntate Matthews.

“Ntate Matthews,” Nolitye quickly suggests.

Rex looks at Ntate Matthews with narrowed eyes.

Ntate Matthews clasps his forehead as if he is remembering something.

“Hey, do you know anything about the disappearing kids?” he asks the dog.

Rex’s one ear moves slightly, but he does not answer.

Ntate Matthews mutters something about a Mean One, but Nolitye cannot catch the name he mentions.

“Rex, I’m starving!” Shorty growls.

“We have to go,” Rex says, and the four dogs trot off, sniffing, snouts in the air.

“As for you, you didn’t tell me your name.” Ntate Matthews turns to Nolitye. “I’ve often seen you, but what is your name?”

“I’m Nolitye,” she says and shakes his hand.

“Nice to meet you … This certainly has been a strange evening. Talking dogs, what next?”

Nolitye just smiles.

“I suppose I shouldn’t tell anyone about this. Not that anyone would believe me …”

“It’s getting late,” Nolitye says. “I better go inside. My mother will be getting worried.”

“Indeed. And I should be on my way too.” Ntate Matthews shuffles up a narrow alley between the shanties.

But Nolitye does not go inside immediately. The sand is cool and soft under her bare feet. She sinks her toes into the soil, feeling for a stone. But she feels nothing but moist sand. High above the stars shimmer against a grey backdrop, the full moon watching over everything like a big eye in the sky. Nolitye shuffles her feet as she moves a little further. When she feels a small lump under her left foot, she smiles and bends down to pick up the stone. She turns it over in her hands, tracing its rough edges with her fingers; she can’t see its shape and colour in the half-dark.

She kisses the stone and wishes that her father were there. Maybe if he were around they would also have a house built with bricks, with a small garden where she could keep a puppy. She’d call it Lucky and love it with all her heart. She closes her eyes and makes the wish. When she opens them, she feels better.

“Nolitye enough now!” her mother calls out. “I’m coming, Mama.”

Nolitye locks the door behind her.

“You and your silly stones. I have a good mind to throw them out one of these days.”

“Please, Mama, don’t. They’re special.”

“They’re just silly stones.”

“You don’t understand, Mama.”

For Nolitye each stone is like a memory. It helps her make sense of the big grown-up world. She crawls under the bed and drops her latest find among her collection of scores of stones which she keeps in an old enamel bucket.

“Who were you talking to anyway?”

“Ntate Matthews.”

“I thought you were scared of him.”

“I used to be, but he’s actually a nice man.”

“I don’t understand you sometimes. Really,” Thembi says in a strained voice. Nolitye can hear she is getting worked up. “Now come to bed!”

“But I still have to finish my homework, Mama.”

“Then stop running around and finish it!” Thembi suddenly yells.

“Yes, Mama.” Nolitye quietly sits down at the table. She doesn’t understand her mother. Sometimes Thembi gets angry for no reason at all and shouts at her, a glint of meanness in her eyes. It confuses Nolitye. There are moments when Thembi is so hard on her that it feels as if they are total strangers. Nolitye tries to concentrate on her Maths, but she is bothered. Why does her mother become so unreasonably angry at times, shouting at her about the smallest thing? It is as if Thembi does it for no reason other than to make Nolitye feel bad.

“You better finish soon,” Thembi adds angrily and turns her back on Nolitye.

There is only a little stump of candle left and Nolitye still has two sums to finish. She gives up and changes into her nightie, an old T-shirt that used to belong to her father. It’s much too big and very old but it keeps her warm and she likes it. Her father died in a mining accident, but Thembi doesn’t like talking about it, even though Nolitye never tires of hearing stories about her dad. She snuggles in next to Thembi and waits for the candle to burn out completely before she closes her eyes.

Nolitye is scared of the dark. She is afraid of the creatures that lurk in the night, like the Zim who they say is the one who’s stealing the neighbourhood kids. Nolitye shudders. Why did Ntate Matthews ask Rex about the disappearing children? Does he know something about the Zim? And who is the Mean One he talked about?

“Lie still!” her mother grumbles.

Nolitye has never seen the great, hairy creature who they say eats children. His strength, they say, lies in the pinkie nail of his right hand, which apart from being as long as a man, is curved like a sickle blade and is even sharper. Anyone who crosses the Zim’s path is mowed down by this weapon and gobbled up, they say, but the Zim is especially fond of eating children.

Nolitye doesn’t like thinking about the Zim and tries to put him out of her mind. But there are other things too that make her fear the dark - strange noises like an owl hooting on a rooftop. Or gunshots that startle you from sleep, or people who suddenly start screaming, or a car screeching down the road as if speeding away from someone or something - maybe from MaMtonga next door.

Nolitye doesn’t like the miserable old woman. She hasn’t any teeth, except for one bad front tooth. A big pimple sits on her nose like a rotten pea and she’s always in a bad mood. Just the other day, Nolitye was sweeping in front of the house when MaMtonga came out complaining that she was stirring up dust. She didn’t stop shouting at Nolitye until she had put the broom away. And when the neighbourhood boys play football near her shack, MaMtonga chases them away. Once she was so angry that she grabbed the football and stabbed it with a knife, right in front of everyone’s eyes. If Nolitye greets MaMtonga, the grumpy old woman doesn’t ever bother to greet her back. Yet, when she doesn’t greet her, MaMtonga complains to her mother, who always tells Nolitye that she must be nice to MaMtonga. But what’s the use? MaMtonga is impossible to please. Her face is fixed in a permanent scowl.

Nolitye moves closer to her mother. The worst thing about MaMtonga is that people say she’s a witch, an umthakathi. Everyone knows she’s a traditional healer and that she has the power to use herbs to cure people, but not many sick people come to her for healing. No, people come to her to get potions with which to kill their enemies, they say. They come for muti that makes people go mad, or can put someone under a spell. And MaMtonga has a snake in her shack, they say. But Nolitye has never seen it. She is too scared of MaMtonga to go near enough to have a peep.

It takes a while before sleep comes, but when it does, Nolitye goes out like a candle.

Chapter Two

THE PRECIOUS FIND

WHEN Nolitye wakes up the next morning, Thembi has already washed and is dressed for work. The kettle is boiling on the Primus stove.

“Hurry up, Nolitye, or I’ll be late for the taxi,” Thembi says, busy making sandwiches for Nolitye to take to school. Their breakfast sandwiches are already done.

Nolitye hates mornings because they tear her away from her dreams in which all sorts of wonderful things happen: sometimes she flies around, other times she plays hopscotch all day with her best friend Bheki. She slowly slides out of bed, takes the orange plastic dish and pours some hot water into it. Thembi hands her a washing rag and a bar of green soap. Nolitye washes quickly, then sparingly squeezes a small blob of white toothpaste on her toothbrush.

Thembi has cut her peanut butter sandwiches for school into small triangles and wrapped them neatly in a plastic bag, but Nolitye has to iron her own gym dress and shirt for school herself. She carefully puts the solid metal iron on the Primus stove, and while it is heating up, she wets a square cut from a mealie meal bag. With this she presses her school uniform very carefully. When she is dressed, she joins her mother on the edge of the bed, and like every school day, they enjoy their breakfast of peanut butter sandwiches and tea together. Sometimes Nolitye drinks milk with the sandwiches, but today there’s no milk.

Nolitye is careful not to get crumbs on the floor. She does not want to spoil her mother’s good mood.

“Did you sleep well?” Thembi asks. “You were tossing and turning a lot last night.”

“I had this strange dream,” Nolitye begins. She still feels a little unsettled by it.

“What happened?”

“This man without a face was chasing me.”

“What do you mean - this man without a face?”

“I mean just that, Mama. He was like a ghost.” Thembi has stopped chewing. “Go on,” she urges.

“He kept on asking me for a stone. In the end I gave him my bucket with stones, but he got angry and chucked them away. And then he told me that he was going to throw me down a hole. That’s when I started running.” Nolitye closes her eyes, trying to remember more. “Oh yes, Ntate Matthews was also in the dream, but he was just laughing his head off.”

“It was only a dream,” Thembi says. “Forget about it.”

But her mother’s advice doesn’t make Nolitye feel better. The dream was too real to be pushed out of her thoughts so easily. She remains sitting on the bed, glancing nervously at her mother.

Thembi is a hawker. She has her own spot near the taxi rank in Noord Street in town where she sells her wares. It is hard sitting in the blazing sun all day, she always says, watching her goods all spread out in front of her. Most people walk past as if she doesn’t exist; only sometimes someone needs a nail clipper, or a comb, snuff, or a small packet of earbuds. Thembi sells odd bits and pieces that most people only realise they do not have when they need them. The other hawkers all know Thembi as the woman who sells things people need but always forget to buy. Nolitye is not allowed to look in the box with the things she sells. Thembi has forbidden it because she says Nolitye will only mix them up.

Nolitye gathers her school bag and her mother takes her box of goods. They leave together, Nolitye’s bag slung over her shoulder, Thembi carrying her box on her head. Nolitye always marvels at that. She once tried to balance a bucket of water on her head but it all splashed out. Her mother laughed. “Don’t worry,” she said, “in a few years’ time, when you’re a little older, you’ll also be able to carry things on your head.” Nolitye can’t wait to grow old enough.

It is windy outside. Scraps of paper are flying about, dust and smog choke the air. Nolitye sneezes. It is a five-minute walk to the taxi rank where her mother catches a minibus into town. When it is nice and early, like today, Nolitye sometimes accompanies her there before she goes to school. Where they turn into the main road to town, they run into Ntate Matthews. He is wearing a suit and a tie, his face is clean-shaven and he looks nothing like the ranting and raving ruffian of the previous night.

“Good morning, MaDube,” he greets cheerfully.

“Good morning, Ntate Matthews,” Thembi says, doing her best not to look at him.

Ntate Matthews winks at Nolitye. She smiles shyly. “Isn’t it a lovely morning?”

“A bit windy,” Thembi says. “Just a little fresh air, I’d say.”

Nolitye keeps quiet, her heart thumping in her chest. She hopes that Ntate Matthews doesn’t remember talking to Rex and his pack last night. “These are strange days indeed,” Ntate Matthews remarks. “What do you mean?”

Nolitye can hear from the way her mother asks the question that she isn’t really keen to get into a conversation with him.

“Another child has disappeared.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Thembi replies, suddenly interested, and Nolitye listens intently.

“Yes, Sara, the Madi girl. The pretty one. Early this morning, her parents sent her to buy bread. The poor girl never came back.”

Thembi shakes her head. “That is terrible.”

Nolitye tries to recall what the girl looks like. She’s only seen her once or twice because her family lives near the freeway and she went to another school.

“That’s the second child in the last three months,” Ntate Matthews says. “You better look after your daughter … It’s Nolitye, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Thembi says. “Say hello to Ntate Matthews, Nolitye. You told me you were talking to him last night.”

But in daylight Nolitye is shy and keeps quiet.

With the box on her head, Thembi turns to Ntate Matthews. “I’m sorry, but you know kids. Their manners …”

“But this one isn’t like the others.” And looking at Nolitye, he says, “I once knew your father.”

“My father. Really? What was he like?” Nolitye has completely forgotten to be shy.

“He was a man with special powers— ”

“Nice talking to you, Ntate Matthews,” Thembi interrupts him, and casting Nolitye a stern look, she says, “Come, Nolitye.”

Nolitye doesn’t move. “What do you mean, he had special powers?”

“I mean, he could do amazing things.”

“It was nice talking to you, Ntate Matthews, but now we have to go.” Thembi throws Nolitye another stern look and strides away.

“Wait, Mama. He’s just telling me about Papa.”

“Maybe another time, Nolitye,” Thembi says over her shoulder.

“Sooner or later the girl has to know the truth about her father!” Ntate Matthews calls after Thembi.

“Goodbye, Ntate Matthews!” she shouts back and walks faster. Nolitye has to run to catch up with her mother.

They are quiet as they walk to the taxi stop. After a while Nolitye slows down and follows a few steps behind her mother. She hates it that her mother never wants to talk about her father.

At the taxi rank her mother joins the queue waiting for the taxi to Noord Street. Nolitye slips in next to her. “What did he mean when he said Papa had special powers?”

“Nothing, Nolitye. Ntate Matthews is just a confused man. You saw what he’s like when he drinks. Listen, did you finish your homework last night?”

“But he said he knew Papa.”

“They may have said hello to each other a couple of times, but I wouldn’t say that means he knew your father. Now why don’t you watch out for a taxi?”

Nolitye can see her mother doesn’t want to talk about her father, and it hurts. She stands quietly, questions racing in her mind. A taxi arrives, kwaito music blaring from it. Two schoolgirls push their way to the front when they recognise the driver. The people in the queue begin to complain loudly, including Thembi.

“Eish, I decide who gets into my taxi. If you don’t like it, then go,” the taxi driver growls.

Nolitye waves goodbye to Thembi, not sure that her mother will notice, because she sits squeezed in between a man with a hat on and a woman wearing a big turban. As soon as the taxi is gone, she turns back. She spots Rex and his pack digging on the rubbish dump across the road. She walks right up to them because she doesn’t want anyone to hear her talking to them. “Have you guys seen Ntate Matthews?”

“Good morning to you too,” Shorty greets her with a wave of his half-a- tail.

“Sorry. Good morning, Shorty. It’s just I’m in a rush to get to school, but I have to talk to Ntate Matthews first. Have you seen him?”

“You mean that silly drunk?”

“He’s not that bad, Rex. It is just when it’s full moon that he drinks too much.”

“We saw him at MaMokoena’s spaza shop a few minutes ago,” Rex informs her. Ticks nods and carries on scratching behind his ear. Whiskers doesn’t even lift his head to look at her, he is only interested in finding something to eat.

“Thanks, guys!” Nolitye runs in the direction of the spaza shop near the clinic in the middle of Phola. She jumps over a puddle of dirty water leaking from a burst pipe, careful not to soil her shoes. Children in school uniform pour from the alleys into the street, joining the men and women hurrying to work. Nolitye makes her way against the stream of people until she stands in front of MaMokoena’s spaza shop. She doesn’t see Ntate Matthews anywhere.

“Dumela, MaMokoena,” she greets the woman behind the small counter.

“Dumela, my child.”

“Have you seen Ntate Matthews?”

“He was here just a few minutes ago to buy some milk, but I don’t know where he went.”

“Do you know where he lives?” Nolitye asks urgently.

“No, sorry, my child,” MaMokoena says.

A woman enters and asks for a loaf of bread. Nolitye steps aside, disappointed. “Bye, MaMokoena.” She might as well go to school, she decides.

“I’m going to tear your ears off!” someone shouts outside. “Come back here, you little brats!”

Nolitye looks to see where the racket is coming from. She is almost knocked over by three boys sprinting down the narrow street, laughing. They’re being chased by Ntate Matthews who is waving a sjambok in the air. But the boys are too quick. They have already disappeared among the shacks.

Ntate Matthews stops, huffing and puffing. He is only a few steps from Nolitye, but he doesn’t see her. He is too busy trying to catch his breath. “Those little rats,” he grumbles. “They were throwing stones on my roof again.”

Nolitye keeps quiet, too scared to talk to him.

“I’ll get them next time,” he mumbles to himself and starts walking back in the direction of the clinic.

“Wait, Ntate Matthews! Please, I need to talk to you,” Nolitye calls and rushes after him.

“Yes, my child,” he says, still sounding irritated, but he stops walking. “Earlier, when you were talking to my mother …”

“Yes?”

“You said something about my father.”

“I knew him.”

“You said he could do amazing things. Please tell me, what kind of things?”

“Shouldn’t you be on your way to school?”

“Please, Ntate. I need to know. I hardly knew my father. I was so young when he died.”

Nolitye tries to remember how her father looked, but the harder she tries the less she can recall him. She looks up and sees Ntate Matthews looking hard at her, the expression on his face kind and friendly.

“Come back this afternoon after school and I will tell you.”

“Really? Oh, thank you, Ntate!” Then she remembers: “But I don’t know where you live.”

“You know the taps next to the clinic?”

“Ja.”

“And you know the big bluegum tree? Now if you stand under the tree and face the taps, turn left and count the dwellings in the front row. Mine is the seventh to your left. It’s painted blue. You can’t miss it.”

“Thanks, Ntate!”

“Now off you go to school. I don’t want to get into trouble with your mother.”

“See you later,” Nolitye shouts as she runs off.

It is still early enough for her to fetch Bheki. He lives in Mogale, across the main road, where the houses are built of bricks and people have their own small gardens. Bheki is her best friend. He’s short, just like her, and has an impish face and small beady eyes. The other kids tease him because he’s chubby. Bheki loves food. In fact, eating and reading are his favourite pastimes. That’s why he’s so clever, he always tells Nolitye with a happy twinkle in his eye. The other children think he’s a cheese boy, but not Nolitye. She is proud that Bheki is clever and that the two of them always get good marks.

She gives a quick knock and pushes open the front door of the Zwanes’ five-roomed house in Siswe Street. It is a quiet street, unlike the streets in Phola. All the neighbours have green patches of lawn and the kids don’t play football in the street.

Bheki is sitting at the kitchen table slurping his porridge, while his baby brother is under the table pulling out his shoelaces. Bheki pulls his feet away. He hates it when his little brother does this.

“Ma, look what Khaya is doing,” he complains. To Khaya he says, “You can be pleased Dad’s gone already.”

If ever there was a prize for the naughtiest toddler, Khaya would get it, Nolitye thinks, standing in the doorway. If he isn’t pulling things off the table, he’s putting them in his mouth. It’s a full-time job just looking after him.

Bheki’s mother walks in through the back door. She is also short and fat and when she walks, she waddles a bit. But Nolitye likes her.

“Dumela, MaZwane,” Nolitye greets her. “Sawubona, my child.”

She gives Nolitye a hug. She always squeezes Nolitye too tightly, but out of politeness Nolitye never complains, even though she sometimes feels she can’t breathe and would pass out. Well, maybe not quite pass out, but she certainly always feels a little light-headed after one of MaZwane’s hugs. Still, she loves being hugged by MaZwane. Her hugs are like gifts that make her feel special.

“Come on, Bheki,” MaZwane says while she picks Khaya up. “You eat too much. Nolitye is already here and you’re still eating.”

“I’m almost done, Ma,” Bheki says, scraping out the last mouthful of porridge.

His mother takes a red toy truck from the table and gives it to Khaya. The little guy is only too happy to be put back down on the floor with his truck, and MaZwane scoops up Bheki’s school shoes and puts back the laces.

“Look at these shoes. Filthy,” she fusses. “Give me the brush!” While she gives the shoes a quick shine, Khaya bangs his toy truck on the floor, trying to get her attention.

Nolitye excuses herself and slips into the bathroom. She does this whenever she visits Bheki, because Bheki not only lives in a brick house with two bedrooms, but the Zwanes also have a proper bathroom with a flush toilet. Back in Phola, Nolitye has to share five mobile toilets with the two hundred other people in her area. After using the flush toilet, she loves opening the hot water tap and letting the warm water flow over her hands.

Water should come out of a tap, she thinks, not leak through the roof every time it rains. In summer when there are heavy showers, she and her mother have to rush around and put empty buckets and pots all around the room, even on the bed.

Bheki is ready to go and his mother takes her wallet from her chest, gives him his lunch money and hides the wallet again. She hugs him and kisses him on the cheek. “Ma! I’m gonna be late,” he complains and wipes his cheek.

“What’s wrong, Mfana? Are you shy to be kissed in front of Nolitye?”

“We’re going now,” Bheki says, closing the door.

Outside the gate, Bheki gives his lunch money to Nolitye, who carefully hides it in her shoe. They do this because every day the class bully, Rotten Nellie, waylays them outside the school gates. Everyone knows that Nolitye’s mother is too poor to give her pocket money to buy sweets, so nobody would suspect that she is carrying any money. Rotten Nellie only pushes her around and takes her peanut butter sandwiches, but then she searches Bheki for money because he doesn’t take sandwiches to school. She has never found any money on him, and every time she grabs him by the back of his collar and demands, “What are you going to eat?” Bheki meekly replies, “I go home for lunch.” But Rotten Nellie never gives up, the next day she again pushes her hand in Bheki’s blazer and pants pockets, looking for money, and then shouts at him if there is nothing.

Nolitye and Bheki take the long route to school. They do not want to bump into Rotten Nellie before they get to the school gates where, if they are lucky, there will be school prefects on duty. They have to hurry because they have to walk around an open field and past the church where Nolitye sometimes goes with her mother on Sundays.

“Last night I had a strange dream,” Nolitye says as they come in sight of the school.

“Don’t tell me that you were being chased by frogs again!”

“Hey, that was quite scary. You should have seen how big they were.”

“But who’s scared of frogs? They can’t even bite you, man.”

“Anyway I was trying to tell you about last night’s dream,” Nolitye cuts him short.

But Bheki’s mind is on something else. “I’m getting tired of this,” he sighs.

Nolitye looks at where he is indicating with his eyes. Rotten Nellie and her gang, Thabo, S’bu and Four Eyes, are waiting for them at the school gates. Rotten Nellie and Thabo with folded arms and leaning against the wire fence.

The four call themselves the Spoilers. Thabo, the tallest of the boys, is good at football and always carries a football with him. His shirt is never tucked into his shorts and his socks are always down. S’bu is quite neatly dressed but doesn’t say much and never smiles. He looks a bit dumb. Wherever Rotten Nellie and Thabo go, he goes too, walking very close to Thabo. Four Eyes, who wears big spectacles that cover half his face, with lenses that are so thick that they resemble magnifying glasses, looks out of place with the others. He doesn’t seem tough enough. It is said that he has a rich father. As for Rotten Nellie, she is the only girl in school who refuses to wear a gym dress like the other girls. She insists on wearing a shirt and shorts like the boys. Even her school shoes are meant for boys. Bheki is scared of her because he once saw her punch a grade-seven boy in the face. When the boy started bleeding from the nose, Rotten Nellie bellowed with laughter as if it were the funniest thing she ever saw.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Pumpkin Face and the Mop, my favourite idiots!” Rotten Nellie says, straightening up and swaggering towards Nolitye and Bheki.

Thabo, S’bu and Four Eyes laugh as if she had cracked a joke. They sound like cackling hyenas. S’bu is enjoying himself so much that he farts.

Rotten Nellie swings back and throws him a disgusted look. “Say sorry, you pig!” she scolds him.

“Sorry,” he mumbles sheepishly.

Bheki looks around. There are no prefects patrolling the school gates, so Rotten Nellie is sure to get away with Nolitye’s lunch. He feels like turning back, but he knows it will only make matters worse.

“I’m feeling a bit hungry this morning. I wonder if you can help me out,” Rotten Nellie starts.

Nolitye casts a look at Bheki but says nothing.

“Hey, you Mop, I’m talking to you. Give me my food, I’m hungry!”

If only I was bigger than you, Nolitye thinks to herself. I’d shut you up with one smack. “My name is Nolitye,” she says to Rotten Nellie.

“Nolitye, Mop - it’s all the same to me. Just give me my food before I do something you won’t like!”

Nolitye doesn’t respond.

Rotten Nellie looks at her gang and nods. Thabo and S’bu leap forward, grab Nolitye by the arms and pull her school bag off her shoulder. Nolitye tries to swing her arms and free herself, but the boys are too big and strong. She glances at Bheki. Poor Bheki, he doesn’t like fighting. There’s nothing wrong with that, Nolitye knows, but sometimes she really wishes that Bheki was braver and would help her - she’s not just going to hand over her sandwiches.

Rotten Nellie digs into Nolitye’s school bag. “Aha,” she says and takes out the sandwiches. Three of Nolitye and Bheki’s classmates arrive at the school gates but they quickly walk past and pretend not to see what is happening.

Rotten Nellie takes the sandwiches out of the plastic bag and snarls, “Peanut butter! Again! What’s wrong with you? Are you poor or something? You always have peanut butter sandwiches and I’m getting fed-up.”

“Give back my school bag!” Nolitye demands and lunges forward.

“Hey! I asked you a question. Are you poor or what? Is that why you always have peanut butter sandwiches?”

Nolitye holds onto her school bag but Rotten Nellie doesn’t let go. “Of course she’s poor. Look at her clothes,” Thabo says pointing at Nolitye’s frayed shirt.

“You don’t have to be so mean,” Bheki finally says, his heart beating wildly.

“That’s what we do, you stupid barie, you bumpkin,” S’bu says. “We’re mean.”

Nolitye is still wrestling with Rotten Nellie to get her bag back, but with a violent shrug the much bigger girl shakes herself free.” What is this Mop trying to do?” she asks her gang. They all giggle. S’bu looks especially silly with his two missing front teeth.

“Give me back my school bag,” Nolitye demands again.

“Not until I have copied your homework first.”

“You can’t do that,” Bheki protests, his voice going high.

“Says who, Pumpkin Face?”