She and Tsholo share a good laugh.
I sigh.
Looking around the VIP room, I see that there’s not much talent here anyway. Lots of skinny-looking young guys drinking vodka and smoking hubbly bubblies. If there’s one sure sign of borderline poverty, it’s the hubbly bubbly.
So I resignedly accept that we’ll be grooving with Uncle for the night.
Yup. The one from Extension 5, Corner Loserville & Hopeless Street, SA. Gosh.
When Uncle Chino lumbers over to our seats with his two buddies, the girls instantly perk up. It’s a weird thing I’ve noticed about my friends and me. When we go out, it always feels like the night hasn’t started until a bunch of guys comes and joins us for drinks. I don’t know what it is. I guess we just feel the pain every time we must fork out money for our own drinks. I don’t think it’s natural for girls to have to pay for themselves. Like, why?
Anyway, so the uncle and his crew come over and Chino positions himself next to me. He takes on this weird body language like he’s urinating to mark his territory. Can you spell creepy? I’m completely turned off, but I optimistically decide that maybe he’s protecting me from being targeted by his friends.
Two bottles of champagne are brought to our table in a large ice bucket.
The girls and I order some platters, knowing we’re set for the night.
The conversation flows. The two other men are busy ogling my cute friends and Uncle Chino starts talking to me like he’s never done before when I’ve been over at his house. He asks me about my hair business; what I’m planning to do with my life. He even says that I should come to him for financial advice. I tell him about the government tender I am planning and he immediately offers to help me put it together. I’m relieved because while I know I’ve got it under control, a little advice never hurt anyone.
Fast forward to my place. Uncle Chino’s lips are on mine, he’s touching me, and not in an unpleasant fashion. Champagne always just melts my insides and I had too much this evening, which is how he ended up driving me home. Next thing I know, Uncle Chino and I just went from family ties to bondage.
Shit. I really hate my life sometimes.
The next morning, the guy’s calling me ‘baby’ and making plans for us to reconnect. I tell him I’m not doing that, and he says, ‘Please, I’ll do anything.’ So, I tell him that if he wants to do something he can help me with my rent for that month. To my great surprise, he makes the transfer there and then.
For a down-and-out accountant, he wasn’t so bad.
Anyway, I slept with him one more time after that, but I felt so awful afterwards because I was sober the second time around and all I could think of was poor Aunty Mabel.
I stopped taking his calls and, for a few days, he left me in peace. Until now.
Sigh.
And I need rent money for this month.
Fuck!
And I need help with the tender.
Shit!
Okay. One last time with this jersey-wearing uncle and no more. I promise.
I guess I have to cancel coffee with Aunty Mabel.
Two Months Later
Yho! I’ve been working so hard. I’ve never worked so hard in my life. This business thing is not as easy as it sounds.
My Teddy Bear’s tender came out in the paper last week and I’ve been running like a Kenyan athlete, trying to put everything together.
I thought I would be able to bid for the tender with the company that I registered eight weeks ago but my Teddy Bear told me I must go into a joint venture with another female-owned company, one that has the cidb certificate and the required grading for this job. The combination of the other woman’s company and mine would increase our BEE scoring. I’m learning so much about business. You see, there are different levels of BEE scores in the government tendering system, so if you’re black, female and below the age of forty, you qualify as a youth-owned company. All of these factors increase the scores in your favour so you earn extra points against your competitors if they don’t have the same kind of representation. By combining with an established female-owned company, my chance of winning the bid would increase significantly.
Teddy explained that you need many certificates and accreditations to be able to qualify for a construction job of the magnitude that I am bidding for. Sixty million big ones. Yho! My head was spinning when I heard how much the tender was worth.
I was already thinking about how I was going to buy the penthouse I’m staying in because Uncle Chino says it’s important to invest in property since it’s a fixed asset (he he he … you didn’t know I was a quick study, ne? Just now, I’m here talking about fixed assets. Hola hola, Bontle baby!)
I really hate how you keep bringing up the fact that I said I owned the penthouse. I am visualising … that’s what it’s about. If you think it, so it shall be. So please don’t keep bringing it up! You are not the police of my life.
Teddy Bear introduced me to a woman by the name of Sophia Makgaba; the BEE woman with an accredited construction business. Eish. I don’t know if I’m going to work well with this mama.
She’s one of those basic people who go around with a German-cut hairstyle, short nails, no name brand jeans and promotional T-shirts. I mean, there’re people who still go around wearing promotional T-shirts. It makes my blood boil. There ought to be a law against that one, seriously. The people who died for our freedom didn’t sacrifice their lives for us to be wearing promotional T-shirts. Ngeke!
I really believe that the struggle for freedom had a lot to do with how we are now free to express ourselves. Looking good is a service you can do for your countrymen. How can you wear slogan T-shirts during apartheid, and then continue to wear them during democracy? Never!
How did she manage to score so many deals looking the way she does? Yho. I hope we get close enough for me at least to stage an intervention, a much-needed makeover. I can’t afford to be seen with someone who looks like this mama.
But even with her ugly T-shirts, Mama Sophia isn’t totally stupid. She has experience of construction and a degree and everything. And she immediately read between the lines about me and Teddy. My Teddy Bear, bless him, basically instructed her, told her, that she must work with me on this tender.
Teddy is Chief Financial Officer at one of the Limpopo municipalities and the tender he’s issued is a bid towards the construction of Reconstruction and Development (RDP) homes in one of the townships in his municipality.
The deal is that Sophia’s company will do most of the technical work, but Teddy wants her to mentor me about construction, so she will take me under her wing and show me the ins and outs of the business.
I’m happy with the arrangements, but, choma, can you imagine me in the dust, in the heat, with a construction hat on? Tjo! Let’s just hope that Louis Vuitton makes those, otherwise we have a problem. And the overalls? I don’t even want to think about it. I’m just going to visualise and focus on the money at the end of the deal.
Anyway, the past two weeks have been about putting together the tender document, getting quotations from engineers, builders with NHBRC certificates, architects and their plans, and so, so much more.
I am exhausted, but I’ve also been spending time with Uncle Chino, who is coaching me on some of the business lingo so Mama Sophia doesn’t think I’m a complete bimbo. Whenever she comes up with some technical terms that I don’t understand, I just tell her I need to make a phone call and dial him for clarification.
This has worked so well. Uncle Chino has become a really great asset in my life; I’m just not sure if he’s a fixed asset or not … he he he. See how I did that?
Eish. I need to call Aunty Mabel. I’m sure she’s wondering why I’m not spending time with her these days. When I’m done submitting this tender, I’ll pay her a visit at her boutique. I need to meet with Papa Jeff so he can give me R5,000 to buy a dress from Aunty Mabel’s shop. It’s the least I can do. Seriously, I still feel very bad about my relationship
with Chino but once I can afford to hire an accountant and business adviser, I will definitely get rid of him.
Or maybe I’ll make enough money to put him on a retainer … No. I’m not used to paying for his services, so … ag, I’ll see.
Three Weeks Later
We submitted the tender last week, and my Teddy Bear texted me on his ‘spy phone’ to say that everything is on track. The bid committee is sitting next week but they’ve already sifted through the tenders that don’t meet the basic qualifying criteria and our company is one of the five that has made it through to the shortlist.
Ker-ching, ker-ching, ker-ching!
My Teddy Bear is so slick … sometimes I feel like I’m in a spy movie. He’s got his normal phone and his spy phone that he uses to speak to me about our trysts and our business deals. Okay, business deal – but he’s assured me that if I’m clever, there will be many more tenders to come.
I have to drop off some orders for Brazilian weaves at my friend Chimamanda’s salon, and I’m running a bit late. The hustle is real, baby, it’s real.
I love hanging out at Chimamanda’s salon. Her clients are rich suburban ladies who sometimes offer snippets of gossip, which can be important to a girl like me. I love their luxurious scents, stylish silk scarves, designer handbags and shoes. I like to imagine wealth as a smell; that’s why some of my greatest investments are gorgeous perfumes in impossibly shaped bottles.
It was at the salon that I first gained intel about Teddy Bear. One of the clients was his wife, who was spending the weekend at their Joburg home. Their family home is in Limpopo’s Tender Park, where all the rich tenderpreneurs stay. Tenderpreneurs are my favourite kind of businessmen – the kind that make money from government tenders. They are just oh-so-generous!
She was complaining that money had gone to her husband’s head and lamenting the fact that she had found suspiciously warm texts between Teddy and some other girl. She mentioned that he was CFO at a municipality in Limpopo and I instantly recalled that I had met a guy the week before who’d introduced himself as such. I hadn’t been that interested in him because he had the obligatory beer boep, but when I heard about their holidays in Mauritius and their house on the coast, a lightbulb flashed in my head.
This was the perfect blesser for me. He didn’t stay in Johannesburg so I wouldn’t have to render regular conjugal services to him. He could afford the lifestyle that I am accustomed to. Papa Jeff had been moaning recently about going through some ‘trouble’ in his business so I was in urgent need of a new revenue stream.
When I left the salon I immediately went to my contacts list and saw the name I had saved the guy from Limpopo under: ‘Boring Fat Dude’. I changed it to ‘Teddy Bear’, and thus started my most promising relationship so far.
Teddy is sweet. He comes to Joburg twice a month and every time he’s in town, he leaves me with at least R15,000 in cash.
Papa Jeff used to contribute R20,000 towards my lifestyle but now that he’s fallen on hard times, I’m only getting between R10,000 and R15,000 per month.
I’m so broke these days that I literally vomit when I think about my financial situation. Uncle Chino doesn’t even qualify as a source because all he manages are a few thousand here and there.
Teddy Bear has promised Mama Sophia and me a payment of R10 million once we are awarded the tender.
Mama Sophia will then wire R2 million into my account, of which R1.5 million will go to Teddy. He’s explained that he needs to share the money with some politicians there at the municipality; otherwise, there would be enquiries and problems with our tender.
Eish. I’m very excited about the R500,000, but worried that Sophia really seems to expect me to be on site for this project.
Yho. Limpopo is so hot! My complexion!
Sigh. I guess I’ll cross that river when I get to it. Yeah, yeah, the Limpopo River. In the meantime, I’ve got places to go; hair to sell.
About My Friends
I don’t have very many childhood friends. Quite a few of the girls in my school were terrible snobs and the remainder, well, they stayed away from me because I intimidated them. But Tsholo and I have been close friends since high school. Young and innocent we were then. We were among the very few non-white girls at Tshwane High School.
We’re quite different: Tsholo always got really good grades, and well, you know I don’t focus too much on books. And she was gawky and awkward growing up, intimidated by boys, whereas I’ve never had that problem. One time, these obnoxious white girls in our class were making fun of Tsholo, calling her ‘Spotty Monkey’, as we made our way out of the yard towards the school transport.
I turned my head and hissed at their leader, a tall and skinny blonde girl called Lisa.
‘Wat sê jy, jou ma se poes?’
(What did you just say, you cunt?)
‘Did you speak to me?’ she responded, with all the haughtiness of a queen.
‘You heard me. I asked you: what did you just call my friend?’
She looked at me, looked at her friends and mumbled, ‘I don’t fight with cheap little bushies.’
I couldn’t believe it! She’d just called me a boesman – ‘bushman’ – the most derogatory term you could use to refer to a coloured person. I had to teach that bitch a lesson.
I felt my feet leave the ground as I jumped up and grabbed two tufts of blonde hair, and simultaneously kneed Lisa in the stomach. I was so angry that when she fell over, I went down with her, punching her face and kicking her – on her torso, her legs, everywhere. I have a pretty short fuse and, I tell you, I didn’t care if I killed that bitch right there in the school yard.
Suddenly, prefects were all over us, grabbing us and tearing me away from that stupid Lisa.
My punishment did not fit the crime. Suspension for the entire term, which meant that I fell behind with my studies and ended up having to repeat the year.
Poor Tsholo was so grateful that she’s been an angel of a friend to me ever since, helping me with my schoolwork, counselling me on my problems with my mother. Whatever else goes wrong in my life, Tsholo is my rock. Iris, on the other hand, is like that weird expression white people use. You know when they describe a person as a cousin once or twice removed? Iris is like my friend once removed. Like, she’s my friend, but I think if she wasn’t friends with Tsholo, she wouldn’t necessarily be friends with me.
Iris is very pretty, in a dark and mysterious fashion that makes guys strangely fascinated by her. I mean, even in this era of the Yellow Bone, there are certain places we go to where she still manages to reign supreme. I’ve always been a bit wary of girls who possess that kind of beauty. Growing up, I used deliberately to call them ugly. You see, in my family, most of the girls are light-skinned, so there’s always been a competition about who’s the fairest, and who’s got the most European features. My cousin Caroline is pure coloured because her mother married a very light-skinned coloured man, so her bloodline has been kept pure yellow in that way.
My dad was black and very dark in complexion, with a flat nose. Luckily I didn’t get any of his colour and I’ll straighten that nose as soon as I’ve made enough money.
Iris and I are very similar in our attitudes towards men, although Iris is more academic than I am. She’s doing her BCom Hons and Tsholo is pursuing an LLB. Yep. I have a friend who’ll be a lawyer one day. With my dramatic life, I can only see this as a good thing.
Iris and I both love the finer things in life, and we both revel in male attention – especially the attention of Alpha-males, the champions of the world. Now and then, there’ll be a bit of a competitive thing going on between us, but nothing serious enough to lead the day’s headlines.
Tsholo is an anomaly, not only in our group but, I think, amongst modern women in general. I mean, she still goes out with ‘normal’ men, meaning guys our age, where it’s all about love, romance, ‘getting each other’, being ‘soulmates’ and … yawn, yawn, yawn.
She’s been with the same
boy since her first year at university. He drives a Polo Playa, is serving his articles at an accounting firm, and is ‘deeply in love’ with her.
Who in the world dates a guy who drives a Polo Playa?
Anyway, of all people, I’m not going to judge Tsholo, but I always tell her to mark my words: ‘All men are dogs and I’d rather be crying in a Ferrari than in a Polo Playa, honey.’
Other than her dubious choice in men, Tsholo is a real sweetheart. I would give … no no no, I would loan … my liver to her, because she drinks more than I do.
One thing you can’t afford to do if you’re in this game is to drink too much. Aside from you losing your looks, men will make a fool of you and take advantage of you, so always keep your eyes open and you can keep your legs open at your own discretion.
Business
I have a meeting today with Mama Sophia. I’m getting a little irritated with her because she keeps assigning more and more tasks to me. What does she want from me? Isn’t she supposed to be doing most of the work? I never claimed to be the expert around here. Anyway, we’ve submitted the invoice for our first milestone on this project but the municipality still hasn’t paid us. Apparently, it has been going through audits from whichever man upstairs does audits on tenders; they need to be seen to be doing everything by the book.
Gosh!
This means we need to achieve some more milestones before we can get the first payment on the job.
I went to the site last week and had to book myself a nice hotel in Limpopo so I didn’t get to feel like a real construction worker. I stayed for two nights, at R3,000 per night, so I seriously need the municipality to pay because that R6,000 is supposed to go towards this month’s rent!
The Blessed Girl Page 2