Hunger Eats a Man

by Nkosinathi Sithole

  The door to Sgonyela’s office opens and a woman comes out with a man who seems to be her son. As they come out there is a sudden quiet amongst those who are waiting. It puzzles Bongani. Only when the two people have gone out of sight do the discussions start again.

  “Do you know if the old man Mdunge has been found or not?” asks a woman with a light complexion and huge breasts. Her face shows that she is a regular drinker of alcohol. Probably the drink that is called pikiliyeza (the-pick-is-coming), which is notorious for the fact that it accelerates ageing.

  “Yes! He was found dead in the Mpofana River, with his right hand and testicles cut off.” The respondent seems not to be a fluent speaker of Zulu. She speaks with difficulty, and now and then she brings in Sotho words.

  “I wonder what they do with human body parts,” says the woman with large breasts.

  “Oh that?” a short, dark, bald-headed man says. “It depends on which part it is. Different parts have different purposes.”

  Bongani listens enthusiastically as the man, who sounds boastful to him, speaks.

  “The head is for the aura,” he says with exaggerated emphasis. “If you want people to respect and fear you, the medicine for that is mixed with some pieces of flesh and oils from the head.” The bald-headed man feels superior as he folds his arms, having finished the display of his undefeatable knowledge.

  “And the testicles?”

  Everyone in the corridor is interested in the topic. There are no other conversations.

  “Hmn! That’s another question, Mother, but I will answer you because you have asked,” the bald man says knowingly. He takes a slow, heavy breath before he resumes his speech. “Testicles are used for men who are impotent and those who can’t have children.”

  This affects Bongani so much that he suddenly stands up to leave, but then changes his mind again. It troubles him to hear this because he has come to get some herbs that will make him impregnate Nomsa despite her contraceptive pills. Now, as he hears what the bald-headed man is saying, he is very disturbed. It makes a lot of sense and this worries him. If he leaves? No chances of ever having children. But the thought of using the potions of an inyanga after what the bald-headed man has said is very painful.

  The door opens again and two men and a woman come out carrying a very sick woman on a blanket. As they pass down the corridor the people on the bench keep quiet and watch sympathetically.

  It is when they have disappeared that the bald-headed man speaks, “Hmn! That girl will never recover. They are wasting their time. She is already dead.” He has meant this as a joke and is disappointed when everybody either ignores him or looks at him dryly. He is, however, not discouraged. “Did you see her eyes? They were so sunken and white! As if she was meant to see more than we do.”

  “All this is the work of the whites.” The woman who says this is seated near a girl who is also very ill. As they speak, the girl is leaning against the wall and is breathing with difficulty. She is not asleep, but Bongani thinks that she does not hear what is said.

  “Why do all these sicknesses affect only blacks and not the whites? No! The whites are the cause of our suffering,” continues the woman.

  “Yes!” the bald-headed man starts. “They always know if there is a disease coming and they even have names for those diseases before they arrive.”

  When Bongani finally enters Sgonyela’s room, he takes some time contemplating the place, hoping to locate some misplaced testicles, which would make him leave right away. But the room is cleaner than he had expected and Sgonyela, although one of the ugliest men in the world, shows himself to be a man of order. There is a table and a chair where Sgonyela sits and, just next to him on the right, a cupboard with medicines. More medicine is packed in sealed bottles arranged in rows on the shelves on the wall. On top of the table, in front of Sgonyela, are bones, which he uses to foretell for his clients.

  After the two men have exchanged greetings, Sgonyela asks Bongani what he can do for him. Only now does Bongani recognise the fact that he should have spent some time preparing an answer to this question. He tries to organise his words and finds that it is not easy. How can he tell this man that he has come to ask for the herbs that will cause his wife, who takes contraceptive pills, to conceive?

  He makes inaudible sounds as a way of alerting Sgonyela that he is formulating a reply, when a phrase – “complete plain words” – runs through his head and, without thinking further, he ejaculates, “I want children!”

  He sees by an amused look on Sgonyela’s face that he sounds ridiculous. When Bongani makes no attempt to elaborate, Sgonyela tells him he hears him and assures him that he has come to the right person because there is no problem in this world that he, Sgonyela, cannot solve. “The difficulty, though, Hadebe, is that you did not bring your wife along. My spirit, and it is always right, tells me that it is your wife who has a problem, but it is ‘a young boy’ to me.”

  “No, Father Sgonyela,” Bongani replies, “my wife will not agree to use your medicines because she is a devout Christian. She is born-again.”

  “Oh! So she despises traditional African medicine?” Sgonyela smiles as he speaks and Bongani notices that, at least, he has white teeth. The whiteness of his teeth is enhanced by his black skin. The fact that he has such large pimples makes Bongani sympathise with his teeth, thinking that they should have belonged to a better person.

  “No,” Bongani answers proudly. “She believes in one God, and His Son.”

  For a moment Sgonyela keeps quiet. He looks at Bongani and Bongani looks back at him.

  “Now because your wife does not believe in African medicine, you cannot make her use it?” Sgonyela asks sarcastically and does not give Bongani a chance to respond. “If her Jesus is so important, why doesn’t He give her children? Why doesn’t He impregnate her?”

  “It’s hard to force a person to do something she doesn’t want to do,” Bongani says in a worried tone. Sgonyela does not know that, if it were possible, he would already have forced her to have children with him. “The truth, Father Sgonyela, is that my wife does not want to have children. She takes contraceptive pills. I was hoping you would give me something to make me impregnate her despite her taking those pills.”

  Sgonyela suddenly changes colour, becoming darker. “I feel like forcing you out of my place! What kind of a man are you? Hhe? Don’t you know that you bring bad luck if you talk such shame to my ears?”

  “I did not come here to provoke you, Father Sgonyela, but—”

  “Don’t call me your father,” Sgonyela protests. “If I was your father I would not let your wife piss on your head like this. You are a disgrace to the male population!”

  What strikes Bongani is that, as Sgonyela becomes angrier, his voice gets softer. Suddenly Bongani notices in Sgonyela a look of serious meditation. He wishes he could see what is going on in that huge head full of scars and pimples.

  “Okay!” Sgonyela speaks at last. “I will help you if you still need my help.”

  Bongani is afraid to speak, so he just nods.

  “I will give you very strong potions to make your wife conceive, despite her taking those pills of hers.”

  This makes Bongani feel better and he decides to encourage Sgonyela: “You are the only one who can help me have children and God knows I want them so much!”

  “Leave God out of it!” Sgonyela reproaches.

  “I want you to save my children!” Bongani sounds as if he is about to cry. “Nomsa has denied them life for so long and I would give anything to have them live!”

  “Don’t worry,” Sgonyela consoles him, “you have come to the ultimate doctor. I will make you so strong a man that no pills will prevent you from making babies. You will never again release your manhood in vain.”

  “Thank you, Father … I mean, thank you, great doctor,” Bongani feels happy now. “I want to be a bull. I want to bellow like a bull and each time I do Nomsa should be pregnant. I want to have ten children, Father Sg
onyela … I mean doctor.”

  Sgonyela smiles as he listens to this young man who looks rich and silly.

  “I want to be a bull among bulls! I want to be a man!” Saying this to Sgonyela makes Bongani feel as if he is talking face to face with the Almighty.

  “You speak as if you already know that the potions I am going to give you require you to eat large quantities of bulls’ testicles.”

  “Yes!” Bongani agrees, confused by the excitement of becoming a father. “I will eat as many bulls’ testicles as you want me to. Even more!”

  “Good! We can begin to celebrate because it’s as if you already have the children. You should think about their names and their futures.”

  Sgonyela stands up to prepare his medicines now. He mixes and remixes the potions, now and then sniffing at them, and sometimes growling like a lion, which frightens Bongani.

  “This is no longer between you and your wife! It’s between me and the doctors who make those pills that your wife uses. There is only one way for me to win …” Sgonyela pauses and looks at Bongani, “and that’s if you get children.” He laughs happily and Bongani is forced to follow suit.

  “Isn’t it the whites who came with the idea that women should rule over us?” Sgonyela asks.

  The situation he is in has confused Bongani so much that he answers without giving the question thought. But his answer does not surprise him. It is the emotions that accompany it that amaze him: “Yes, it’s them! They caused all this. Now I have no children.” His voice is trembling and it sounds as if the tears are just behind the eyes.

  “I will make sure all that changes. Your wife will give you so many children she won’t believe it.”

  Bongani watches as Sgonyela assembles his medicines and puts them in a plastic bag. For a moment he thinks about what the bald-headed man has said and again reminds himself that it is not Sgonyela who cuts off men’s testicles and makes others eat them. Besides, he has to think about his children.

  Sgonyela then gives him the rules to keep while using his medicines: “Rule number one! Do not eat pork when you use my medicines because it will spoil them.” Sgonyela looks at Bongani to see the impact of his words.

  Bongani smiles before answering, “That will not be a problem because I do not eat pork at all.” Bongani feels pleased as he speaks. His self-esteem is greatly enhanced. “I stopped eating pork when I saw that it burns like a lamp in the dark. It surely is cursed meat.”

  “Good! You also must not cross the hearth when you are still using my medicines.”

  “Fortunately, I don’t have a hearth in my house. We use electricity,” Bongani says triumphantly and Sgonyela laughs.

  “I don’t mean that. I mean that you must not visit your wife when you are using my medicines.”

  “I don’t understand,” Bongani says, and his voice shows that he is disappointed.

  “You cannot sleep with your wife when you are still using my medicines.”

  This surprises Bongani so much that he demands without thinking, “May I ask why?”

  “Certainly,” Sgonyela says suddenly, as if he anticipated or hoped for this question. “What is the point of charging a battery if you are using it at the same time? Besides, in your case, we want the battery to be extra full.”

  As unusual as this sounds, Bongani thinks he understands Sgonyela. “I will do as you would like me to do,” he says in a voice that lacks the confidence he has shown earlier.

  Sgonyela pretends to be in deep thought for about three minutes and Bongani decides it would be unwise to disturb him. When he has come to, Sgonyela introduces the topic of payment.

  “I have just been talking to my ancestors about their cow. They want half of it or more right now because yours is a tricky business.”

  “How much is it going to be?” Bongani does not sound at all concerned, and Sgonyela notices that and relishes it.

  “The charms and herbs I am giving you are expensive and hard to find. Most of what I have mixed here come from Kenya and Mozambique, and some from very secret and dangerous sources.” Sgonyela looks for a frown on Bongani’s face and finds none. “All in all, my payment is five thousand.”

  “What?” Bongani almost jumps. This is far more than he’d expected. “No, Father Sgonyela, you are killing me,” he says in disbelief.

  “Why do you complain? What is R5 000 for having many cute young boys and girls who look like their mother?”

  Bongani is only able to pay two thousand at the moment. He says he will bring the rest in a few days. Sgonyela agrees and tells him that, if possible, he should bring all the remaining money so that his kings will be pleased with him and they will give him children sooner. Bongani says he will try, and then begins to thank Sgonyela for his willingness to help him.

  Sgonyela almost screams, “No! Don’t say that! Don’t thank my herbs and don’t thank me! Just leave and never say goodbye.”

  Bongani stands up to leave. Never say goodbye?

  13

  Coming from work, Priest notices a commotion in the Phanekeni section of Hunger-Eats-a-Man where he lives. He sees people running and thinks that maybe the Grinding Stone is attacking another man. It is only when he is at the gate of his homestead that he hears what is going on. Sagilasomthakathi (Witchdoctor’s-knobkierrie) has sent a tractor full of potatoes to give to the community.

  Sagila is a kind white man who is loved and respected by the people. He obtains his employees from Ndlalidlindoda and transports them in his van every day. In addition to their wages, he offers them potatoes, beans and maize meal every month-end. Sagila is a devout Christian and he tries by every means to impart his belief to his workers and the people of Gxumani, especially those of Ndlalidlindoda, because they are his nearest neighbours, although they cannot hear him if he screams. He has hired a priest and, every day before work commences, they start with prayer. Sagila knows many blacks still believe in the ancestors and do not know that theirs is a false belief. The only correct religion in his view is that of the Saviour God and God’s only Son.

  Sagila does not want to preach and not practise. Didn’t Jesus say that a man needs to love his neighbour as much as he loves himself? So, Sagilasomthakathi now and then sends a tractor full of half-rotten potatoes to give to the starving community of Hunger-Eats-a-Man for free. His workers dump the potatoes wherever they please and the people scramble for them. Sometimes the scramble ends in fights.

  Priest watches people running after the tractor, carrying empty sacks and buckets in which to put their potatoes. It looks to Priest as though the whole populace has gone mad. The noise! The excitement! Only for rotten potatoes? God, something is wrong. There are women running with children as if they themselves have become young again. “Hhayi bo!” one woman calls to him. “Where is MaDuma? Where is MaMbona? Tell them let’s go to collect the potatoes.”

  “She must have already gone,” Priest hears himself respond to the fat woman who is shouting. It is as if she is blowing a war horn. Priest looks at her and sees that she might weigh more than one hundred and twenty kilograms. Yet she manages to run. As she carries her body past Priest’s home, he marvels at how some people grow so big out of eating pap toasted in fat.

  The woman is known as Thithi, because, despite her age, she is not married. She says to Priest, “Tell Nozipho’s mother there to come faster. They will finish the potatoes before we arrive.”

  “But she’s got a young baby and nobody to look after the child for her,” Priest complains. Just then he sees his young, short neighbour coming with an empty sack. She goes through Priest’s homestead and runs in the direction of the tractor, without recognising or even seeing Priest, who is still looking around in amazement.

  “Run, MakaNozipho!” Thithi says. “Look at those people! I nearly left you because you have a young child.” Her breasts are moving up and down as she runs down to the big gum tree near to which the potatoes are about to be dumped.

  “Ohho! I just threw him on the bed and left,”
MakaNozipho responds, running after Thithi. “Potatoes are like meat these days.”

  When all the people who have run to the tractor are gone, Priest stands alone in front of his house. He feels a sudden sadness when he again thinks about what he has seen. These people are really suffering and this has made them behave like animals. But what really worries him is his involvement in all the madness around him. He too felt a tinge of happiness when he found out there are potatoes to be fetched and his wife has gone to fetch them. Feeling happy about the potatoes hurts Priest very much, but he also cannot help his disappointment when he sees many people returning from their journey empty-handed.

  “Why are you coming back?” a voice asks loudly. Priest listens attentively for the answer because that is his question as well.

  “Those silly farm boys did not dump the potatoes near Cleopas like they said they would do,” Thithi responds. She is angry and disappointed, but she still manages to laugh as she speaks. “They went all the way to Mswane. Even if we followed, we would get nothing as many people from Mswane and Eqeleni are running to meet the tractor as well.”

  One woman, whom Priest recognises as the sangoma, comes laughing all the way. She keeps laughing at herself for the way she has run and pestered her children to run faster, lest they lose the tractor. She lives in Manhlanzini, which is quite a distance from here. She has run for two kilometres after the tractor, and now she comes back laughing, with an empty sack in her hands.

  “I told my children to run faster,” she repeats for the third time when she is near the gate of Priest’s home. Only now does it occur to Priest that the woman is not talking to anyone in particular. “My children said we have lost it.” Another laugh interrupts her. “I said, ‘Go on. Turn to your right and go all the way to Shiburi.’” She keeps walking and Priest hears her still laughing when he can no longer see her.