Thirteen Cents: A Novel (Modern African Writing Series)

by K. Sello Duiker

  “Gerald,” I say.

  She walks away. I go to the bench near the spaza and sit. I wait for a while before Sealy comes.

  “What happened here? Half the shacks are gone.”

  “New blood,” he says and sits next to me.

  “Where’s Gerald?”

  “Didn’t you hear?”

  “Hear what?”

  “He killed himself. That’s what they say. They found a knife with blood in his room.”

  “What do you think happened?”

  “I found this in his room,” he says and takes out a claw from his chest pocket.

  “What’s this?”

  “My oupa says it’s a lion’s claw.”

  “Did he scream?” I ask.

  “Nothing, not a sound. He locked his room like he usually does when he goes to bed and then he never woke up. I had to break in there. It was a mess, what he did to himself. I still say no man would have cut himself up the way he was. You don’t seem surprised.”

  “It’s Gerald. He was going to die anyway.”

  “Apparently the Twenty-Eights had a contract on his head. But something else got him first.”

  “The darkness,” I hear myself say.

  “Look at all the people still here. Most of the coloureds left. You won’t find a coloured guy here. Gerald was their god and when he died they all left. People have been spreading rumours all over Cape Town that the devil got him.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think he destroyed himself. He wanted to kill you, you know that? He was going to steal your soul to make himself stronger.”

  “I know,” I say, “I burned him.”

  “Gerald was looking all over for you. He was going crazy. He started talking to himself. I like your jacket.” He smiles and touches the orange material.

  “So only darkies live here now?”

  “Not exactly. After Gerald died I fucked up Liesel.”

  “Why?”

  “She was a bitch. Did you know she used to put stuff in your zol?”

  “Like what?”

  “There was a lot of shit happening that you didn’t know about. The day I fucked you up, Gerald wanted me to break one of your bones, so I made as if I broke your ankle and he fell for it. Shit, you even believed it. There was nothing broken about your ankle.”

  “But the doctors . . .”

  “Fuck the doctors. Gerald wanted me to break one of your bones so he could sow his evil. But I fooled him to save you. I know you killed him,” he says.

  “What?”

  “I know you went up to the mountain.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I saw you. I flew up there,” he laughs, “but I was the only one who could see you. The others weren’t strong enough to fly up there.”

  “Gerald was evil.”

  “Gerald is the devil.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s not dead. But he’s weaker. You destroyed his power. Now he can’t touch you.”

  “But how do you know this?”

  “Because I’m an angel.”

  “An angel?”

  “Yes.”

  “But . . .”

  “The devil is not the only one who knows evil. I saved you by fucking you up. You’re stronger now, aren’t you?” he says.

  “Yes,” I say confused.

  Ma Zakes opens her spaza and puts on some music. She plays that fuck-you song by Tupac. Gerald never wanted her to play that song. We were never allowed to listen to it.

  “So what are you saying, that angels are evil?”

  “No, I’m saying we can fight till the end. We can outlast the devil.”

  “But you said he’s not dead.”

  “I know, but that doesn’t mean he can win.”

  “Will he ever die?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you bullshitting me?”

  “Did I bullshit you when I fucked you up?”

  “No,” I say and remember.

  I get up and go to Ma Zakes. I ask for a glass of water. She gives me a jug with ice blocks. I sit with Sealy on the bench and drink.

  “Can he still hear you when you talk and all that other stuff?”

  “No. He died as Gerald but he’ll come back as something else.”

  “How many of you are out there?”

  “Many,” he says and takes out a cigarette. He gives me one. We smoke in silence and listen to Tupac swearing everything under the sun. Ma Zakes pumps up the sound.

  “It’s our turn to rule,” he says after a while. He looks at me and swims in my eyes.

  “You’re mad,” I tell him.

  “Tupac was an angel,” he says. “But he didn’t know it because he didn’t know his father.”

  “What?”

  “Tupac was the angel of destruction.” He bops his head to the music.

  Two white men who look dirty walk past.

  “When did they come?”

  “Not long ago.”

  “They look evil.”

  “They are evil but they are harmless. They’re like mosquitoes. They can smell your blood. But they can’t do anything without spilling your blood and they can’t do that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you burned yourself with fire.”

  “But I have no scars.”

  “You stopped bleeding, didn’t you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  He moves his bum.

  “How do you know?” I say, surprised.

  He goes to Ma Zakes and buys a Coke. He comes back and sits next to me.

  “God is very clever,” he says seriously with a grown-up face.

  “You believe in God?”

  “I’m way past that. I know him,” he says and drinks.

  “You’re full of shit.”

  “We have to destroy Cape Town,” he says.

  “Why?”

  “God’s instructions.”

  “But why Cape Town?”

  “You ask that after what they did to you?’

  I say nothing.

  “It’s because evil is subtle,” he says. “Evil hides itself. Gerald was only scratching the surface.”

  “You mean he wasn’t evil?”

  “He was but there’s worse.”

  “Where?”

  “In the church, in banks, in town. That’s why we have to destroy Cape Town. We have to rape their women and children. We have to kill them.”

  “You’re crazy – that’s evil.”

  “That’s how you fight evil. With evil.”

  “You’re mad.”

  “We’re the dogs of war.”

  “Who’s we?”

  I see the other roughnecks as TKZee raps. The music makes you want to dance. Sealy gets up and dances with his buddies. I watch them and feel their mad energy. “TKZee is in the house y’all,” they sing with the music. When the song ends they all sit around me.

  “You must stay here now. We’ll look after you,” Sealy says.

  “I can look after myself,” I say.

  “They’ll take your strength.”

  “Who?”

  “The Twenty-Eights, the Hard Livings. All the mother-fuckers and their mafia will try and take your strength. You mustn’t be on your own,” he says and holds my hand gently. “You must stay here now, you have no choice. They’re all looking at you.”

  “Who’s they?”

  “Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, gangsters, the mafia, the government . . . who else do you want me to name? All of them are looking at you.”

  “What do they want?”

  “They want answers.”

  “But I don’t know anything. I’m only thirteen.”

  “They want to look into your head. They want to see what God’s thinking.”

  “That’s evil.”

  “But it still doesn’t stop them.”

  “What can I do?” I say, exhausted.

  “Nothing. But you must stay here.”
r />   “What if I don’t?”

  “What did Vincent say to you?”

  I look at him and say nothing.

  “He said, Ask questions that are going somewhere.”

  “How did you know that?’

  “Because Vincent is an angel,” he says without flinching.

  “You’re full of shit. You’re filling my head with kak. How do I know that you’re not another Gerald?”

  “Am I holding a knife to your throat?”

  “No,” I say and look above. “Where are all the pigeons?”

  “Gerald ate them.”

  My heart starts beating fast.

  “You want me to lose my mind, but I won’t,” I shout.

  “Shut up. You’re making noise,” he tells me. “I’ll moer you if you continue like this. Now shut up, this is serious.”

  He foams at the mouth. The others watch me. They’ll beat you up, I tell myself. I sit quietly in confusion.

  “Are you hungry?” Sealy asks.

  “No.”

  “Have you eaten?”

  “No.”

  “Ag, voetsek,” he says and gets up to dance.

  “Are you scared?” one of the two asks. I look at them with cold eyes and squint at them.

  “Sealy is right. You are crazy. You want death, don’t you?”

  The other laughs.

  “No, I think you’re crazy,” I tell them.

  “We raped all their women after Gerald died. All the coloured bitches,” he says to the others and they laugh.

  “Why?”

  “They wanted destruction.”

  “They wanted to meet their maker through the back door,” the one with one eye says.

  “You’re all sick.”

  “We’re mad with love,” Sealy says, dancing and swims in my eyes again.

  “I’m tired,” I tell him.

  He takes me to his room. He lights a candle and closes the door but he doesn’t lock it. Gerald would have locked it, I say to myself and don’t know whether to feel relieved or anxious.

  I sleep with my feet on the bed. I don’t trust them. Grown-ups are full of words. But they never tell you everything. They just tell you little bits of things. And that amounts to nothing. What are they talking about? All of a sudden they are talking about God. God this. God that. They are full of shit, grown-ups. Their minds are rotten with all their poisons. I know Sealy also smokes buttons. He is mad. He says he is doing it in the name of love. What must I do with that? Must I believe him? He is crazy. They’re all crazy. They think they are God. They think they know it all – the score.

  20

  I watch the candle burn and think about the mountain and the cave. I wonder who’s staying there now. Maybe that stupid man with long hair will come back. And he’ll say, Where’s that boy who’s full of shit? But I’m not a boy. I know I’m thirteen but I’m not a boy. On the street boys my age support their families. They give their mothers money so that they can buy drugs and feed them nothing. They break into cars and steal small change from dashboards so that they can buy needles to inject themselves with poison. They mug old ladies and buy buttons. And when they are fucked out of their faces they cry about it till snot drips like water.

  A boy? I’m not a boy. I’ve seen a woman being raped by policemen at night near the station. I’ve seen a white man let a boy Bafana’s age get into his car. I’ve seen a couple drive over a street child and they still kept going. I’ve seen a woman give birth in Sea Point at the beach and throw it in the sea. A boy? Fuck off. They must leave me alone. I have seen enough rubbish to fill the sea. I have been fucked by enough bastards and they’ve come on me with enough come to fill the swimming pool in Sea Point.

  And the bitches are all the same. You can’t trust them. Where’s Liesel now? Wasn’t she my friend? Didn’t she say she liked me? She’s also full of shit. And that story about her putting stuff in my zol, I believe it. I knew what a hard bitch she was but I just ignored it. I thought she was my friend. I thought she liked me. I knew how she made the woman called Kim who stayed with her suffer. When Kim was sick and couldn’t work the streets Liesel didn’t help her. She didn’t give her any food. She let her starve because she was a hard bitch. I saw Kim scratching in the bin. And now everyone wants to fuck me.

  But I don’t want anything. I just want to be left alone. I just want to be able to walk the streets the way I like. I don’t want to think about gangsters who are so scared that they fear their own shadow. I don’t want to think about bastards who pick me up at night when their wives are not watching and fuck me for peanuts till I bleed. I don’t want to think about bastards who do it in the dark with children because their dick is so small. I don’t want to think about assholes who don’t wash their ballas but want you to suck them till they come. I don’t want to walk around being frightened all the time. I don’t want to hear Gerald saying you have learned to live with fear.

  What does that mean? It means grown-ups are evil and they use you and they use their children to use you. They use anything they can use and when they get it they still want more. They are never satisfied. I don’t really remember a grown-up ever saying enough. They always want more. Even if that means you have to work till you die. Grown-ups are full of shit. They are evil. Why are they watching me? What do I have that they can’t get from their own efforts? There’s plenty of other things to steal. Why do they want to steal my mind? Why can’t they do things for themselves? Why must I do all the work and someone else must steal it? Grown-ups are devils. They have children so that they can feel good about themselves. So that they can say, I made you. I can take you out of this life, like my father once said. I never forget that. How can anyone say that? Grown-ups have children so that they can say, Oh God I’m going to come. I’m going to shoot all over you.

  And why must they always have the first and the last word? Why must I always be in the middle? I didn’t ask for trouble. Why do they want to fill my head with ugly things? I see ugly things all the time. Isn’t it enough? Do they want me to see and think ugly things all the time? Must I become a stupid pigeon so that they can feel good about themselves? They are stupid. They are fucked up. They are crazy.

  I try to sleep but sleep doesn’t come easily. Instead I think of people watching me. I think of Gerald being torn apart by a lion. I think of him dying in his sleep. I think of blood, his blood and all the people he ate. I think of it spraying from his veins like a wild hosepipe. I think of his T-shirt burning him, becoming alive with fire. I think of all the stupid things he said and how he craved my eyes. They were the last things he couldn’t have. He wanted my eyes, I say to myself and watch the candle. He wanted to be clean like my eyes but he couldn’t. His own darkness killed him like the old man in the dream.

  A long silence falls on me as I think about these things. And I don’t have a good feeling about Sealy. He is full of madness. You can see it in his eyes. They are on fire, that’s why he was swimming in my eyes. He’s on fire with madness. And I can’t go back to Sea Point because the grown-ups over there are even more crazy. I sigh and decide to stay under the bridge. At least they will feed you, I say to myself. Although nothing is ever certain with Sealy. He is like the wind. He changes his mind all the time. And those buttons, I don’t want to see them anywhere near me. They are evil.

  When the candle burns out I cover my head with a blanket and sleep. Later in the night Sealy crawls next to me. He smells of brandy. He wakes up at night to throw up outside and then he comes back smelling of buttons. I don’t say anything. I just pretend to sleep.

  * * *

  I wake up feeling bad like I caught Sealy’s hangover. His eyes are red and he drinks lots of water. We go in Gerald’s car to Salt River. I sit next to him in the front seat. The place in the dashboard where you put in things is open. I can see a gun in there. It looks like a 9mm.

  “What do you need that gun for?” I ask.

  “Because you never know, Blue.”

  “Never know w
hat?”

  “You ask too many questions. That’s why you’re always in trouble.”

  I keep quiet.

  “Maybe they’ll try and kill you,” he says.

  “Maybe they’ll kill you,” I tell him.

  “Look, I’m only trying to protect you.”

  We go into the coloured area and stop outside a house so rundown you can smell grease from the walls. I stand outside in the sun while Sealy goes in. He comes back holding a pack and tells me not to ask questions. Stupid questions, he says. We drive on a long road till we get to Muizenberg. We park at the beach. He gives the pack to other coloureds and comes back with a stacked envelope. We get in the car again and drive back into town. He buys me fish and chips with Coke. We eat in the car, parked near Subway.

  “I’m just going for a walk,” I tell him.

  “Don’t be stupid, only white people say that. Now where are you going?”

  “To the park.”

  “To do what?”

  “I just want to lie in the sun. What’s your problem?”

  “Then I’m coming with you,” he says.

  We go to the Gardens. I walk in front. I walk past the fountain where there are always lots of people. I can’t help looking around and watching people. But they don’t seem to be staring at me or, if they are, then they are doing a good job of pretending to do other things. We walk till we reach the tall trees. I lie under the sun and Sealy sits next to me. I feel like napping but I can’t because he’s always there. And I know he’s watching me. So I just lie there and look at clouds. After a while he gets irritable and says, Let’s go. I’m too tired to argue so I just follow him. We walk back to the car and drive to the bridge.

  “So what’s going to happen to Gerald’s room?” I ask.

  “You and your questions. Nothing, okay. Nothing,” he says and gets out the car. He goes to his shack.

  But what about the blood, I wonder. The rats will lick it, I suppose.

  “I’m tired,” I tell him.

  “Then go to sleep,” he says.