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12 December 2018 | Story Mirriam Mukiwa

It was a day unlike any other. It was the day my life came to a standstill. Even though there was no life threatening natural disaster, there was a storm. This storm was nothing like the storms I was used to; the storms that caved houses in, flooded bedrooms and left mothers in agony and anxiety searching for their young ones. No, this storm left my heart in shambles, this storm left me wanting more, this storm brought me back to life. Funny enough, this storm had a head of blonde hair and intense green eyes that seemed to see all your dark secrets. This storm was armed with a pistol pointed to my head.

 

She shouts at me, asking if I’m deaf. She’s been ordering me to open the safe for her. I did not hear this because her eyes had me so mesmerised I could have opened other things. Perhaps I did give her more, for this is the day that changed my life.

 

DAY ONE

 

I hated my job at the jewellery shop. I had a few cats and by a few I really mean five cats. I had no romantic partner whatsoever. I mean, who needs those, right? Well, I could have used one, actually. My life was a bore. All I had to look forward to was a day at work with those little brats who came by to make my life a living hell. I mean, yes, they came to shop, but they made my life difficult with all their demands and their money to waste.

 

She was not like the rest of them; her eyes held a certain focus that I could not for the life of me imagine being reserved for jewellery shopping. She walked in with a sense of confidence and vigour I could never pull off even if I were to wear Giorgio Armani and hold a briefcase of money. I loved her legs. They looked like it was sculpted by an artist. She was wearing a black skirt with heels. The buttons of her flowery French blue blouse were loose at the top end, giving the beholder a glimpse of her cleavage. As if aware of my admiration of her walk, she strutted to the middle of the shop, with echoes of her heels reverberating as wide as space when making contact with the floor. She reached into her pocket with her hand like someone who wants to take out cash and give it to a beggar, and out came a gun. She shot at the roof three times or so, and ordered everyone to lie face down on the floor. It was definitely a sight for sore eyes, watching these queens in their Givenchy outfits kissing the floor. I almost laughed in the midst of chaos.

 

I am pretty sure that I snickered, which is when she made her way to the counter towards me and commanded me to open the cash register. I opened it, and she shoved a bag at me and told me to empty the cash into the bag, which I did diligently without taking my eyes off her. She reciprocated, and for a moment we were locked in a gaze. I cleared my throat to distract myself. When I finished packing the money, she walked away, but halfway she turned and came back to the counter. “Come with me,” she ordered. And being armed with a gun and those eyes, I obeyed.

She flew the car down the road, and after a few minutes, stopped abruptly to change cars at an abandoned garage. Inside the other car, she changed her clothes and I couldn’t help but stare. She removed the blonde wig to reveal a head full of untamed, beautiful red hair, whilst multitasking on the phone with whoever, giving them directions to collect the first runaway car. “Are you not hungry, dear? I’m dying of hunger and thirst,” she said as she drove off, not really interested in my response. We found a restaurant about fifty kilometres from the garage and shared a meal over some conversation. So weird, yet cool.

 

Bella told me of this fun but life-threatening trip she was about to go on, and seemed to be asking me to come down with her. “Or do you love the store so much you don’t mind missing out on life? You looked sad back there, by the way,” she glanced at me, and the waitress came by between another stare-game of ours asking if we were still fine.

 

When I said yes I’d like to come with her, she rose and enveloped me in a tight, warm, sweet hug that felt like home. Like I had been there before. A familiarity so profound. We left the restaurant laughing and chatty as though we had known each other forever. We went to my place to get my things, and I left my cats at the nearby pet shop. With loud music hyping her up, she chased down the road and my new freedom made me screamed excitedly. Two young women with a lot of money and yearning hearts.

 

DAY TWO

 

We arrived at the one place you go only when your life is in shambles, and you do not want to be found. Vegas, baby! We got a room and then went out to a casino. Gambling was one of my secret talents. My mom had been a showgirl in New York in the 70s, so she had taught me how to play. ”Honey, whenever you get the chance to exploit the system use it because the system uses every chance it has to screw you over,” she would say. Bella and I built up a good winning streak, but we knew we had to leave when men in black suits and shades started walking around our table. Winners know when to quit.

 

DAY THREE

 

On this day we decided to go shopping at all the fancy malls and buy whatever it is that our hearts desired. We arrived at one of the boutique stores. It sold beautiful lingerie, even though I didn’t see a point for that, really. Bella was playing around with bras when I noticed that there’s a man in shades who had been following us. I told Bella about him and we continued with our day as if we didn’t spot him. It was a tactic so that he was of the impression we were going to fall into his trap. So damn predictable!

 

DAY FOUR

 

Bella kissed me! We decided that we were going to have a picnic and that each person should go buy the things that they wanted for the little event. Meeting time was set at 12pm. We went to the shops together and each one went their separate way. I bought everything that I thought she would have liked to have at the picnic, and when I got to the picnic place she was already there. She was never late for anything. But I noticed she wasn’t alone. There was a man that she was talking to and I immediately recognised him as the man from the mall. He left when he saw me, and I asked her who he was, and she said he was just asking for directions. I called her out for lying, and she found my rage appetising. She kissed me with a slow yet intense passion, tenderly rubbing her soft lips against mine. God knows I wanted to argue more, but my fury had collapsed.

 

DAY FIVE

 

The picnic was forgotten. The next thing I remember was waking up in bed with a warm body pressed against mine. A wide grin plastered all over my face as she softly snored next to me, and her bare breasts rose up and down in a breathing exercise. I decided to close my eyes and savour this majestic moment in her arms in case it ended. Shortly after midday we got up and I went to shower. She came to join me. The rest of the day was spent at the cinema, eating popcorn and drinking Slush Puppy, until the cinema closed and we returned to our room to make love.

 

DAY SIX

 

Bella woke me up at the crack of dawn to get ready for Disneyland. But she was not the same freaky woman of last night’s moans. I could feel that something was not right with her. The kisses she gave me tasted of fear and regret. But when I asked what was wrong, she mumbled something in passing, which made me panic more. She bought me a teddy bear at Disney, and we then left for the beach for sunset vibes.

 

DAY SEVEN

 

I woke up knowing that something was wrong. Her side of the bed was cold and vacant. In her place she put ‘Teddy Bella’, a box of chocolates, my favourite flowers, daisies, lots of cash and a letter.

 

My dearest Mila


I am so sorry you had to find out this way, but I couldn’t look you in the eye and tell you that I was a walking ticking time bomb, that I would not be around anymore to watch your gorgeous smile and hear your contagious laughter. I am dying of Leukaemia and last week my doctors told me I had a week to live. I did what any insensible person would do and staged a fake robbery to get my crush to run away with me.


I have loved you since forever. I was just too scared to tell you, and don’t worry I am not a wanted criminal because my dad owns the jewellery shop. I had asked him for cash, and since he feels guilty for his poor fathering, he told me to go get it from the shop. Thank you for being the best partner in crime and I am very sorry that I had to cut our journey short.

The man you kept asking me about is my bodyguard, sent by dad to bring me home safe.

Thank you for making my final days memorable and please remember me, even if it’s not forever, just for a little while. Please do one thing for me, if it’s not too much to ask for: please go spread my ashes at the beach. I have planned for them to be given to you after the ceremony that dad is having for me, which I kindly ask that you attend.


And always know that I love you!

 

~Bella

News Archive

Media: ANC can learn a lesson from Moshoeshoe
2006-05-20


27/05/2006 20:32 - (SA) 
ANC can learn a lesson from Moshoeshoe
ON 2004, the University of the Free State turned 100 years old. As part of its centenary celebrations, the idea of the Moshoeshoe Memorial Lecture was mooted as part of another idea: to promote the study of the meaning of Moshoeshoe.

This lecture comes at a critical point in South Africa's still-new democracy. There are indications that the value of public engagement that Moshoeshoe prized highly through his lipitso [community gatherings], and now also a prized feature in our democracy, may be under serious threat. It is for this reason that I would like to dedicate this lecture to all those in our country and elsewhere who daily or weekly, or however frequently, have had the courage to express their considered opinions on pressing matters facing our society. They may be columnists, editors, commentators, artists of all kinds, academics and writers of letters to the editor, non-violent protesters with their placards and cartoonists who put a mirror in front of our eyes.

There is a remarkable story of how Moshoeshoe dealt with Mzilikazi, the aggressor who attacked Thaba Bosiu and failed. So when Mzilikazi retreated from Thaba Bosiu with a bruised ego after failing to take over the mountain, Moshoeshoe, in an unexpected turn of events, sent him cattle to return home bruised but grateful for the generosity of a victorious target of his aggression. At least he would not starve along the way. It was a devastating act of magnanimity which signalled a phenomenal role change.

"If only you had asked," Moshoeshoe seemed to be saying, "I could have given you some cattle. Have them anyway."

It was impossible for Mzilikazi not to have felt ashamed. At the same time, he could still present himself to his people as one who was so feared that even in defeat he was given cattle. At any rate, he never returned.

I look at our situation in South Africa and find that the wisdom of Moshoeshoe's method produced one of the defining moments that led to South Africa's momentous transition to democracy. Part of Nelson Mandela's legacy is precisely this: what I have called counter-intuitive leadership and the immense possibilities it offers for re-imagining whole societies.

A number of events in the past 12 months have made me wonder whether we are faced with a new situation that may have arisen. An increasing number of highly intelligent, sensitive and highly committed South Africans across the class, racial and cultural spectrum confess to feeling uncertain and vulnerable as never before since 1994. When indomitable optimists confess to having a sense of things unhinging, the misery of anxiety spreads. It must have something to do with an accumulation of events that convey the sense of impending implosion. It is the sense that events are spiralling out of control and no one among the leadership of the country seems to have a handle on things.

I should mention the one event that has dominated the national scene continuously for many months now. It is, of course, the trying events around the recent trial and acquittal of Jacob Zuma. The aftermath continues to dominate the news and public discourse. What, really, have we learnt or are learning from it all? It is probably too early to tell. Yet the drama seems far from over, promising to keep us all without relief, and in a state of anguish. It seems poised to reveal more faultlines in our national life than answers and solutions.

We need a mechanism that will affirm the different positions of the contestants validating their honesty in a way that will give the public confidence that real solutions are possible. It is this kind of openness, which never comes easily, that leads to breakthrough solutions, of the kind Moshoeshoe's wisdom symbolises.

Who will take this courageous step? What is clear is that a complex democracy like South Africa's cannot survive a single authority. Only multiple authorities within a constitutional framework have a real chance. I want to press this matter further.

Could it be that part of the problem is that we are unable to deal with the notion of "opposition". We are horrified that any of us could become "the opposition". In reality, it is time we began to anticipate the arrival of a moment when there was no longer a single [overwhelmingly] dominant political force as is currently the case. Such is the course of change. The measure of the maturity of the current political environment will be in how it can create conditions that anticipate that moment rather than ones that seek to prevent it. This is the formidable challenge of a popular post-apartheid political movement.

Can it conceptually anticipate a future when it is no longer overwhelmingly in control, in the form in which it currently is and resist, counter-intuitively, the temptation to prevent such an eventuality? Successfully resisting such an option would enable its current vision and its ultimate legacy to our country to manifest itself in different articulations of itself, which then contend for social influence.

In this way, the vision never really dies, it simply evolves into higher, more complex forms of itself. If the resulting versions are what is called "the opposition" that should not be such a bad thing - unless we want to invent another name for it. The image of flying ants going off to start other similar settlements is not so inappropriate.

I do not wish to suggest that the nuptial flights of the alliance partners are about to occur: only that it is a mark of leadership foresight to anticipate them conceptually. Any political movement that has visions of itself as a perpetual entity should look at the compelling evidence of history. Few have survived those defining moments when they should have been more elastic, and that because they were not, did not live to see the next day.

I believe we may have reached a moment not fundamentally different from the sobering, yet uplifting and vision-making, nation-building realities that led to Kempton Park in the early 1990s. The difference between then and now is that the black majority is not facing white compatriots across the negotiating table. Rather, it is facing itself: perhaps really for the first time since 1994. It is not a time for repeating old platitudes. Could we apply to ourselves the same degree of inventiveness and rigorous negotiation we displayed up to the adoption or our Constitution?

Morena Moshoeshoe faced similarly formative challenges. He seems to have been a great listener. No problem was too insignificant that it could not be addressed. He seems to have networked actively across the spectrum of society. He seems to have kept a close eye on the world beyond Lesotho, forming strong friendships and alliances, weighing his options constantly. He seems to have had patience and forbearance. He had tons of data before him before he could propose the unexpected. He tells us across the years that moments of renewal demand no less.

  • This is an editied version of the inaugural Moshoeshoe Memorial Lecture presented by Univeristy of Cape Town vice-chancellor Professor Ndebele at the University of the Free State on Thursday. Perspectives on Leadership Challenges In South Africa

 

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