“This is about a seventy-year-old man who raped his six-year-old granddaughter.” She pauses for a moment, allowing the story to sink into the minds of the women. “Thanks to our efforts against the patriarchal legal system, the bastard is serving a life sentence in jail. It’s a pity, though, that this is likely to be the shortest life sentence ever. But we hope that the filthy thing will continue his sentence in hell if he dies soon, as I believe he will.”
The women welcome the thought with ululation, and many are convinced that if the old man dies, there is certainly no place for him in heaven.
In another story, a man is accused of raping his two daughters of nine and twelve years respectively. When the little girls testified in court, they stated that their father had been sleeping with them for a long time and had told them this is a normal thing that every father does to his children. He said it is so important that it is never spoken about. The women cannot help groaning at this.
Nomsa cannot hide her anger as she reads this story for the tenth time. “The most disgusting thing is that this beast claims to be a priest!” Nomsa says in a voice filled with anger.
This piece triggers noise among the women as they ask themselves, without hoping to find an answer, “What has happened to the men who once lived in this world?”
When Nomsa mentions the fact that the culprit is a priest, MaDuma almost jumps in fright. It takes about a minute before she is able to assure herself that, if it was her husband Nomsa was talking about, she would have known. But the thought of a priest having done something like that troubles her. If one priest can do it, why can’t another one do it as well? She suddenly recalls a day when they heard on the radio the story of a minister who was accused of molesting young boys. Priest said that the devil likes the people who try to serve God because the devil is God’s rival. Maybe he was trying to tell her something …
MaDuma is rescued from the troubling thoughts by Nomsa, who shouts for quiet in the room. “Have you also become animals?” she demands harshly. MaDuma is astonished at how the stories affect Nomsa. “Have you also become men?”
The women sing “No”, “Not a chance” or “No ways”. For a moment, being a man is considered the filthiest thing in the world.
When MaDuma looks again at Nomsa, she notices for the first time that she has a very round face and her cheeks look like a fat cake. This is only visible when Nomsa’s anger has reached its highest point.
“How would you feel if it was your husband who did this? Hhe? Don’t you see that we should do something to protect ourselves from these men?”
The hands hit the air in agreement, “Yes!”
The enthusiasm with which the women accept the idea of doing something pleases Nomsa.
“If only it was possible to get rid of them all!” one woman laments.
“She who is barren is blessed!” another offers.
Nomsa hears and corrects her, “She who chooses not to have children blesses herself!”
The women acclaim.
When that noise has subsided, Nomsa continues with her reading. She tells the Grinding Stone that she is now reading from the local newspaper, The Eye of the People. “This means that the perpetrators of these evil deeds live with us in our community.”
Murmurs follow this, but Nomsa continues as if she has heard nothing. “I think those of you who live in Ndlalidlindoda – and we should change that name now that we are free – you know Dlamini, who has been raping his eleven-year-old daughter for only God knows how long.” Nomsa pauses for a while and her cheeks become rounder as she adds, “To prove that this is an animal, when he was asked why he did such an evil thing, he said it was his duty as a farmer to taste his fruit first, before selling it in the market!”
Even the quietest of the women utters some words of disbelief at this. The problem is that this man was only arrested for nine months and was released when his docket disappeared from court. The noise resulting from hearing Dlamini’s story is stronger than that caused by earlier stories. The impact is made more acute by the fact that it is close at hand. It is impossible to imagine it cannot happen to you if it happened to a person you know.
Before the noise has completely subsided, Nomsa reads another story, which is as bad as the previous one, if not worse: “This is about a young man who was found having sex with his mother!” Nomsa allows the women to utter their anger and disbelief, and then continues, “Hmn! I can’t believe this. The woman to whom this was done is a helpless disabled woman!”
The noise that follows is not the horror and disbelief of before. It looks as if the women have come to a resolution and Nomsa demands, “What is going on, women of the struggle? Why is everyone standing up? I am not finished here and I want you to listen!”
MaDuma is at the centre of the voices that are speaking at the same time. She turns toward Nomsa and says, “We think it’s no use lamenting these violations without action. Instead of recounting these evil deeds and in the process hurting ourselves even more, we think it’s better to pay a visit to these two men you have just spoken about.”
This is followed by many shouts of “Yes” and the noise of women beating the tables.
Nomsa is both gratified and frightened by what is happening. It is good that the women have understood the gravity of their predicament. But taking the law into their own hands is problematic. It involves violence, and violence has bad repercussions. As the leader, she will be held responsible for anything silly the women may do.
“No! Women, don’t! Taking the law into our own hands will make things worse!” For the first time, as the leader of the Grinding Stone, Nomsa feels the pain of being negated by the women she is leading.
But the women leave from the back door without caring whether she consents or not. Outside it is MaDuma who has taken on the leadership and Nomsa marvels at how well she sings the slogans.
“Down with animals, down!”
“Down!”
“Down with men, down!”
“Down!”
“Down with dogs, down!”
“Down!”
“Forward with women, forward!”
“Forward!”
“Forward the struggle, forward!”
“Forward!”
11
The Grinding Stone has left the hall toyi-toying and singing. They are joined on the way by more women and men who like action. Before they reach Shiyabazali it is decided that five strong and able-bodied women should run to the Ntshangase home and make sure that Muntukabani is there and does not run away before the whole group arrives. If he is not there the crowd will go to Dlamini’s place.
As the women nominate those they trust, a name is suddenly created for the five women as the Special Five. MaDuma leads the Special Five, and in no time they reach the Ntshangase home. It is, according to MaDuma, big but without a plan. It looks as if it was meant to be a hall or crèche, anything but a house.
MaDuma and MaShandu enter the Ntshangase homestead, leaving the other three women outside to check that their prey does not try to outwit them by leaving through the back doors and over the fences. When the two women are on the veranda, they wait and listen, hoping to make out if Muntukabani is inside or not. MaDuma holds the tip of her forefinger to her mouth as she tiptoes closer to the door. She hears the man’s voice speaking inside and cocks her ears. She also hears the woman who is mute struggling to communicate with her son, but in vain.
“You see?” It is a man’s voice.
MaDuma’s ear almost touches the door now.
“I told you that I won’t beg you! I told you that if you don’t want to give me, she will.”
The words and sounds do not tell MaDuma enough, so she decides to go and peep at the window in which one of the six panes is broken. She slowly pushes the curtain aside. It takes a while before she grasps what is going on and, when she does, she closes her mouth with the palm of her right hand.
MaShandu opens her mouth without making any sound and asks what
MaDuma has seen. MaDuma waves for MaShandu to come and see for herself. After having seen the whole of Muntukabani and his complaining pet, MaShandu slowly reverses, turns and takes two steps back before she vomits.
Muntukabani hears her and demands harshly who is at his door. “I don’t want to be disturbed right now! I am busy. Go away!”
MaShandu continues to vomit and MaDuma calls the three women outside to come quickly since their prey has noticed them. When the others arrive, MaShandu is still stooped and her hand is next to her chin. “What I saw today, I hope I never see again,” she says when she has enough air.
“Was he having it with her again?” Zodwa demands curiously.
“There is a dog inside” is all MaDuma can say.
Under the circumstances this sentence proves to be meaningless. To the three women who have seen nothing it means that the dog, Muntukabani, is inside, but the women want confirmation that he was raping his mother again.
MaDuma sees they have misunderstood and again prepares to do her best. Her mind is so affected that she feels as if she owns no vocabulary. “There are three people inside,” she says with difficulty, before correcting herself. “There are two people and a dog.”
The look on Zodwa’s face tells her that she does not understand.
“He had the dog in front of him!” is all that MaDuma can bring herself to say.
At last the three women, starting with Zodwa, begin to grasp the situation.
“I think he needs to be killed!” Zodwa says, heading for the window, hoping to see for herself, but by now Muntukabani has left the dog. She is disappointed but not discouraged, so she goes back to the gate where the Grinding Stone has finally arrived.
“You won’t believe what we have seen!” she says loudly, and the women who are in front demand enthusiastically to know what indeed they have seen.
“There is a dog inside there!” she points a finger at the house and is pleased to see some of her audience feeling the same agony that she felt when MaDuma could not tell her.
The others shout, “What?”, and Zodwa continues, “There are two people inside, and a dog.”
Nomsa finds that she cannot take it any longer so she yells, “Can someone tell us what has been happening here? Is the man we are looking for present?”
MaDuma has composed herself and is beginning to be able to get a grasp on her vocabulary. She still feels, however, that what has happened needs to be expressed in as few words as possible. “We found him having sex with a dog in front of his mother!”
All the women who are close enough to hear articulate their disgust and disbelief in different ways, and the news is transferred from the front to the back as if by some kind of wire.
“Let’s kill this filthy thing right now!”
“Today we are going to spill blood!”
“Why did God create men in the first place?”
Nomsa is among the very few who care to use their minds now. The others just want to kill the bastard and get it over with. He does not deserve to live in the same world with them. “Let him go to his home in hell.”
“Now listen, women!” Nomsa calls them to order. “We should not think with our hearts even though what is happening around us is so disgusting.” The noise subsides a little, but Nomsa can feel that what she is saying has very little, if any, impact on the women. “Is he still inside, MaShandu?” Nomsa asks.
“Yes. He is inside.”
“I suggest we get him out and talk to him!” She tries to say this as forcefully as possible, but receives the negation she is trying to avoid.
“Okay then. Let’s cut off his testicles but not kill him. Let’s remove that which makes him behave exactly like an animal!” Zodwa cries.
This sounds like a better idea to the women who are hankering after blood.
“Yes, let them be removed!”
“He will never do it again!”
“We want to see them!”
MaShandu is assigned the duty of cutting off Muntukabani’s balls. She now has her sharp knife, and as she holds it in her hands, she feels some unknown force take over her body. She remembers her late abusive husband and recalls that she had held a knife like this when she, with her two daughters, stabbed him to death. That happened many years ago, but right now, as she is holding the knife in her hands, she hungers again for the blood of a man. She calls forcibly for Muntukabani to come out, and when he doesn’t, she breaks open the door and enters. This is not a difficult task since the only locking mechanism is a bent four-inch nail.
MaDuma and Belina are next to MaShundu as she charges to the corner of the room where Muntukabani is standing helplessly with a stick. The three women get to him at the same time and seize him.
“You filthy piece of shit!” Belina says, and hits him on his back with a brick she is carrying.
“Leave me alone!” Muntukabani does not tire of kicking as he is taken outside the gate of his homestead. By now there are more spectators. When he is outside the gates he says something that makes many people laugh, and yet more feel disgusted. “I want to go home to my mother!”
This sounds to MaShandu like saying I want to go and sleep with my mother or I want to have sex with a dog in front of her. She throws him down violently and holds him with her knee. “Take off his trousers, MaDuma! Faster!” MaShandu’s eyes have become frighteningly red. She does her job so sharply and neatly that it is only after she has finished that she thinks about the horror of holding a man’s private parts.
Muntukabani listens for the pain but does not feel it. He is beginning to think that maybe they did not cut him when the agony attacks him with so strong a force that the scream he makes is more of a cry. It looks as if the world has suddenly become dimmer and seems to be upside down.
MaShandu is breathing noisily as she watches the blood ooze out of Muntukabani. The other women are shouting as the man writhes in pain.
“Yes! So that all the men will know how we are when we have administered an enema!”
“Well done. MaShandu, you have made him an in-between. He is neither man nor woman now.”
“I think MaShandu should keep them because she cut him and did it very well at that. Shaka would have offered her a herd of cattle as a reward for her bravery.”
“Yes! Let’s reward her with them.”
It is about half past two in the afternoon when MaDuma finally arrives home. She has a mixture of feelings she cannot describe and is sure that she has never felt like this before. She tells her husband about the events of the day and he responds that he has already heard. Hearing of someone’s testicles being removed frightens Priest so much that he holds his own protectively whenever he thinks about it. But the fact that Muntukabani was having sex with a dog troubles him even more.
“Imagine if she got pregnant,” he says fifteen minutes later.
“Who?” MaDuma asks, puzzled.
“The dog.”
“She would have to find the father and tell him,” MaDuma tries to say it as a joke but there is no humour in her.
12
Bongani has spent the weeks since his beating by Nomsa as a worried man. His wife has shouted at him before and on many occasions she has burnt his things, but she has never before laid her hands on him. He has always known secretly that, if it came to a full confrontation as it did that Wednesday, he was likely to lose because Nomsa is tall and tough. She is also left-handed. As a young schoolgirl she demonstrated her fighting abilities many times. Every time her fighting talents were spoken about, the fact of her left-handedness featured very strongly as an explanation for her rare but useful talent. Bongani, on the other hand, has always known himself to be a coward.
His main concern now is the fact that it has become too difficult, if not impossible, for him to pursue what he sees as the struggle for his manly right. He begins to construct a way forward. This is the best plan that he can come up with under the circumstances.
It is on a Sunday that Bongani informs his wife ab
out a journey he is about to undertake. He tells her that he is visiting his uncle who lives about two hundred kilometres from them in a small town called Manakanaka. He warns her that he may take a long time to return – perhaps the whole day – since he has not visited his uncle in ages, so she should not expect him home early.
At nine in the morning Bongani arrives at Riverside and fills his tank to the brim before he goes to the restaurant for breakfast. He orders an English breakfast, asking the waiter to include mushrooms and eggs but no bacon. The toast is to be of brown bread and he only wants juice. No tea or coffee. As he eats his delicious food, his mind is far away, in some lonely place he does not know. He thinks of the plan he is carrying out and what it can possibly accomplish. It makes him smile.
Manakanaka is just a long building, and accommodates about seven shops. Across the fence is a railway line, and further down is a display of artwork for sale. Nothing else!
“I wonder what this should be called?” Bongani thinks as he alights from his car. “It certainly isn’t a town.”
Bongani is glad when he sees people sitting on the bench in the corridor of the single building in Manakanaka. On the door they are facing are the words: “Dr S. Ndlovu”. Ndlovu is a popular African doctor in the province. His clients, as well as all those who know him well, call him by his first name, Sgonyela. Next to Sgonyela’s consulting room is a room of glass walls. Inside it are two pythons. Bongani feels himself leaning closer to the old woman who is on his left.
A tall man in a white T-shirt and short jeans arrives with what may be a late breakfast for the two fearsome pythons. The man in short jeans drops a live hare and four rats into the glass room. This disturbs Bongani so much that he holds on tightly to the bench as he watches each snake pursue its prey. His attention is taken by the hare, which looks very cute to him, and he identifies with it in an instant.
“Run!” he hears himself say, as he jerks forward in a vain attempt to protect the animal. When the larger of the pythons finally catches it, he struggles to look away. The python is swallowing the hare head first and Bongani cannot help blinking repeatedly as he witnesses the last kicks of the hare.
Hunger Eats a Man Page 8