Tandia

by Bryce Courtenay

  Gideon had meanwhile fought Togger Brown in Orlando Stadium for the British Empire title. Peekay and Solly Goldman were in Togger's corner; Dutch Holland, who'd moved over to train Gideon after Peekay's world title fight, handled the black boxer with Mr Nguni. Mandoma's aggressive punching, especially with the left hand, proved too strong for the mercurial Togger; Gideon defeated him fairly convincingly by knocking him out in the thirteenth round of the scheduled fifteen-round fight.

  Dutch Holland now owned fifteen per cent of Gideon which, if Gideon made it to the world title, would prove to be a nice little earner for him. Peekay had persuaded Gideon to allow Hymie to draw up his new contract; when all was said and done, Hymie had managed by a combination of implied threats and cajoling to get Mr Nguni to agree to a maximum of twenty per cent for himself with all out-of-pocket expenses exceeding twenty 'per cent of the gate coming from his cut.

  At the outset Mr Nguni had opposed the new arrangement although, properly handled, it was a decent enough cut. Peekay was hugely surprised when he discovered that Gideon's manager had previously owned seventy-five per cent of the black boxer.

  Peekay confronted Gideon when he'd heard of Mr Nguni's cut. 'Gideon, how did you get this insane contract?

  'You're not stupid.'

  Gideon laughed. 'It was a long time ago. I was sixteen years old and hungry. Nguni, he told me to touch the pencil and he would feed and clothe me and put money in my pocket. It is the same with all his fighters and soccer players also.' He looked at Peekay. 'Nguni is a chief, but he is also namandla and he has many, many cattle. He is very powerful; these boys they come from his isigodi, they must do what he says.'

  'And you?'

  Gideon drew back, puffing up. 'No, Bra! I am same like him, I am chief, I am not from his isigodi. That paper, it was because I was hungry and still umfana, but I am not a boy now, now it will be okay, you will see.'

  Hymie asked Peekay not to make a fuss about the other black sportsmen until they'd sorted out Gideon's contract with Mr Nguni. He patiently persuaded the black boxing manager that, should Gideon become world champion, Mr Nguni stood to be infinitely better off. Furthermore, Gideon could well defend his title as many as a dozen times. The profit opportunity represented was a hundred times greater than seventy-five per cent of a good undercard fighter.

  Hymie felt a little foolish explaining all this to the huge black man. Mr Nguni was a shrewd and resourceful businessman and Hymie told himself he would have seen the advantages immediately. Why was he making him spell things out so laboriously in front of Peekay and Gideon? What was Nguni up to? Mr Nguni seemed reluctant at first to agree. What he seemed to be baulking at was the principle that his fighter would receive the bigger share of the prize money. It was essentially a matter of face.

  Peekay was aware that it wasn't the money but the percentages which concerned Mr Nguni. They made Gideon of greater importance than himself in the partnership. Peekay pointed out to Mr Nguni that Gideon was a chief in his own right, that the contract in the tribal sense was between two equals and that therefore a precedent existed for the uneven split.

  Although nothing had been said, Peekay was certain Mr Nguni would be aware he was prepared to hold up the contract for the title fight indefinitely unless he agreed to Hymie's proposed contract. Nevertheless, he was surprised when Mr Nguni seemed suddenly to capitulate and accept his argument of the equality of two chiefs and also, without equivocation, all the clauses that Hymie had drawn up to protect Gideon's principle sum.

  Mr Nguni was no fool. He knew Peekay held the better hand. His only concern was not to lose face in front of Gideon. Zulus talk and if it got out that Gideon's isigodi had got the better of his, he would be shamed. This he prevented by making Hymie spell out the deal in Gideon's presence and also by forcing Peekay to use the precedent of the two equal chiefs. The huge Zulu was an ambitious man with long-term plans for himself, most of which relied heavily on the possibility of Gideon becoming the world champ. Hymie was right, he'd end up making more money anyway, even though he controlled a smaller share of Gideon. But, for the time being anyway, money alone wasn't at the root of his ambition.

  To be the manager of a world champion was a position Mr Nguni wanted more than anything. It would put him on a par with the black American fight promoters, which in the eyes of South Africa's black people, would earn him enormous kudos. But it would do something else as well. Mr Nguni's secret political ambitions had very little to do with the ANC's struggle for freedom, which he basically saw as a waste of time. He wanted to be seen as a black man among important white people in the capitals of the world. This would do a great deal for his future status in the white political arena.

  Mr Nguni was a hard-eyed realist. Come the black revolution, he was confident that he could buy the political leverage he needed. Revolutions always need money and when the time came he would trade it for power, which in turn would earn him more money. It was all very simple. Keep your nose clean and don't confront either side, the ANC or the white government. But what about the other consideration? What if the revolution didn't come? What if the amaBhunu, the Boers, won the fight again, as seemed more than likely? Already they were talking in Pretoria of creating separate bantustans, separate independent countries for the various black tribes. The Zulu tribe was three million strong, nearly one quarter of the total black population. When the time came for the independent state of the Zulu people, they would need a president. This president would have to be carefully chosen. He would need to be a chief in his own right, a man of impeccable credentials who outwardly seemed to be his own man, acceptable to his own people, both the migrants from the townships and the peasants on the land. It would also help if he appeared independently wealthy, a man of the world who believed in the capitalist system and was respected by the white-political leaders of other countries. But, above all, he would need to be someone the white government in Pretoria could trust. President Nguni had a nice ring to it.

  In the meantime Mr Nguni appeared to eschew politics. The ever-smiling black promoter appeared essentially as a sporting man who, through the. promotion of boxing and soccer, was beginning to be favourably noticed by the Pretoria government. In fact, a dossier already existed on him in Pretoria.

  Zulu Nguni - Mathew. Born: Masinga, Zululand, 1920. Tribal Chief (Minor) Pass No: ZU 0073152 T/N. Occupation: Sports Promoter - Boxing, Soccer. Also manager, Zulu Mandoma - Gideon, South African Welterweight Champion, British Empire Champion (ANC Youth League. *) Social history: No personal political history. Good race relations, White/Black. Youth development programme. Property: Independent means. Property, 3 houses, Morokn, Meadowlands, Masinga (Z'land). Cattle owner. State Police Clearance.

  Category AAA.

  *See Zulu Mandoma G.-ANC Transvaal. Ref. Youth League - Political File.

  Included with these cryptic notes were several transcripts from speeches, mostly of a sporting nature. The most notable was a transcript taken from a remark in parliament by the Minister for Sport:

  That Nguni, he's a proper sportsman. I'm telling you, he's a good black man, the sort of native you can talk to if you want something done in the townships. Not a political type, but he's a natural leader, a chief in his own right. If we had more like him things would go better with the native people all round.

  Among the black people, even most of the township people, Peekay's first title defence became a deadly trail to see whether Mandoma would beat Peekay and so lay claim to being the Onoshobishobi Ingelosi, the Tadpole Angel. For them the fight had a mystical importance well beyond boxing and it became the major topic of conversation in the weeks and the months leading up to the fight. The trial against Geldenhuis and the police colonel Klaasens had convinced many of the blacks that Peekay was their leader. No person had ever taken a Special Branch policeman to court on behalf of a black man, not even an important black man. The very fact that Tom Majombi had been a nobody was proof tha
t the Onoshobishobi Ingelosi was there to protect and to fight for them. A great many of the fans came to the fight wanting Peekay to win.

  When Peekay entered the ring, the Chant to the Tadpole Angel thundered around the old Jabulani stadium where the fight was held; and now even a great many of the white supporters joined in. They had learned the lyrics on Springbok radio where, after Peekay had won the world championship, it had risen to number one on the hit parade. It was a magical moment which brought Peekay close to tears. He stood together with Mandoma in the centre of the ring as the Chant came to an end and Gideon suddenly moved and lifted Peekay's hand and held it aloft.

  This was a different kind of fight. Even those who had come to see the white man smash the kaffir or the other way around, now realized that what they were going to see were two boxers with enormous pride who wouldn't give an inch, a white man and a black one who respected each other, who openly referred to each other as brothers, so that in some parts of the Afrikaner press both were actively despised.

  Both had motive enough to win. Peekay wanted to retire the undefeated champion of the world and Gideon Mandoma, the herd boy from the hills and mountain peaks of Zululand, who had used his fists to get to the pinnacle, wanted to fight a man who, after beating Jackson, had been described by Ring magazine as the greatest boxer pound-for-pound in the world. If Gideon became the world champion he would be the first black boxer out of Africa ever to have done so.

  The referee, a New Yorker who had officiated at two Joe Louis title fights, called the two boxers together and went through the usual ho-hum. The bell went and Peekay and Mandoma forgot that they'd ever been friends as they moved towards each other.

  Mandoma was a natural fighter who came forward all the time. It had served him well against Geldenhuis, because he too fought off the front foot, but against Peekay it wasn't such a good idea. A straight-line fighter is easier to hit, he doesn't bob and weave and move about. Peekay's speed was such that he could nail Gideon more often. In, the first round Peekay moved off the back foot as usual but he was making Gideon miss and nailing him in reply, though because he was moving back his punches lacked real steam. However, in terms of points he won the round quite easily.

  In the second round Mandoma's timing was still out. He was trying too hard, trying for a big punch, and Peekay was too elusive and too fast. Peekay was beginning to put his punches together, working the familiar pattern to Mandoma's body. Mandoma hit Peekay several times with a good straight left and a right upper-cut coming off the ropes, the best punch of the fight so far. Peekay grinned, a sure sign that he'd been hurt. Mandoma came after him and received a beautiful straight left on the nose, making it bleed. The second round, despite the harder punching by Gideon, was also clearly Peekay's.

  The third and the fourth round were the same. Gideon seemed to be no match for the hugely skilled world champion. Peekay was boxing beautifully, his feet a miracle of economy, lovely to watch. Mandoma, who was also a very fast boxer, was being made to look slow. The fight was going perfectly to plan and Hymie and Solly were delighted. When Gideon came in after the fifth, a round which Dutch thought he'd probably shared with Peekay, the English trainer spoke to him. 'You're doing all right, son, but Peekay can dance all night. You've got to slow him down, get him on the ropes, clinch him, hold him as long as you can and, when you come off the rope, try to hit him first. He nails you going away. Go for him fast, a left-right as you come off the ropes. You have the shoulders, push him away; don't let him get away, you make the break for him then hit him on the break.'

  In the sixth round the tactic worked well. Gideon would tie Peekay up as often as he could and move him onto the ropes. Twice he hit him with a glorious left-right combination as he pushed him away; once he thought he had Peekay going, but the bell saved the white fighter. The sixth round was Gideon's.

  The tactic was working well for Gideon although he had to take a few torrid punches to get close enough to Peekay to tie him up. But once he had him on the ropes he was the stronger of the two fighters and he was doing a lot of damage close up, his short inside punches carrying more power than Peekay's. The seventh round was Gideon's too, and the crowd began to sense that the fight had evened up.

  But the tactic couldn't last too long with a fighter as intelligent as Peekay and by the eighth round Peekay was starting to move forward, hitting Mandoma fast and clearing out, avoiding the clinch. Late in the round Mandoma walked into a left-right combination that put him on the canvas. Peekay would have stayed for the eight count, but Gideon was on his feet immediately, too proud to take the rest. It was a mistake. Almost immediately Peekay hit him with a long raking right, pushing him against the ropes; he wasn't quite quick enough from the recent knock-down to recover and Peekay planted three beautiful punches under his heart. Gideon went down again, this time taking the full eight count before he stood up. The bell went as the two boxers moved towards each other.

  The ninth round showed the superb boxer Mandoma was. He came out on the attack and hit Peekay with a beautiful right cross, slamming into the side of the jaw. Peekay crashed to the canvas. At four Peekay hadn't moved and by seven he had only just managed to get to his knees. Peekay could only barely hear the referee counting and he felt himself slipping down the silver tunnel. At nine he was on his legs but plainly shaky. The ref examined him and allowed the fight to continue. Mandoma came in fast for the kill and Peekay managed to tie him up. But not for long; as the ref called for them to break, Mandoma pushed him away and hit him to the head with a good left-right combination. Peekay went down again. He was up at nine, but he knew he couldn't take very much more. Dance klein baas, dance; when you dance they don't think you hurt. It was Geel Piet's voice coming to him as a child.

  Peekay didn't know where it came from. His legs felt like lead but he was on his toes, allowing his legs to do the thinking, years of training making them work instinctively. Gideon was trying too hard, trying to finish the fight. With twenty seconds to go he drew back on his right a little too far to follow a good left jab and Peekay, seeing the opening, hit him with a perfect right hand, smashing into his chin. Mandoma hit the floor so hard he actually bounced. He was up at nine and hung on grimly for the remaining few seconds before the bell went. Both fighters were exhausted. They'd fought each other to a standstill. Both sat in their corners knowing that they'd spent it all, that there were no more tricks. From now it was heart; there was nothing else to give.

  Some people claimed that both fights against Jack 'Spoonbill' Jackson were Peekay's greatest, but there were others who were adamant that the last five rounds of the Mandoma versus Peekay title was the all-time great,.

  It proved to be one of the toughest fights ever witnessed in South Africa. Both men were exhausted, but they came out for the tenth. They started to fight toe to toe, too tired to move about the ring. Both went down during the round and got up and fought again. The fight had evened up, with perhaps Peekay just ahead on points.

  There were those in the audience who'd seen Peekay's comeback against Jackson and who said to themselves that Mandoma couldn't withstand the courage of the white boxer, that he'd go before Peekay. But they reached round fourteen and Mandoma had been down seven times and Peekay six. They were still standing in the centre of the ring trading punches.

  The crowd was hysterical. Something had to give. Each time one of the boxers went down there was a huge sigh, as though the crowd was sure it was the end; then there was a roar as the fighter got to his feet. Peekay had broken Mandoma's nose and closed one of his eyes, though Dutch had kept it working well enough for him to keep fifty per cent of his sight. Solly was not as skilled, and Peekay's right eye was completely closed.

  Early in round fourteen Peekay put Mandoma down again with a left and felt a sharp pain in his hand. Mandoma got to his feet and Peekay tried to put another good one home but his left hand was hurting like hell every time he used it. Mandoma was gone, he was simply hangi
ng on. Peekay was forced-to lead with the right and Mandoma managed to survive, to keep his opponent's gloves away from his heart, for he knew that one more good punch under the heart and he was history. Peekay as usual had judged the fight to perfection; he was going to take him out in the final round. Towards the end of the fourteenth, Peekay landed another hard left and gasped as the pain shot up through his arm into his shoulder. His arm fell to his side and Mandoma hit him with a right just as the bell went.

  Peekay was too exhausted to speak as Solly and Hymie worked on him. 'You just have to get through the round, you're ahead on points, just keep him off this last round, Peekay,' Hymie said, working on his shoulders.

  'That's the ticket, my son, you don't have to put him down, just stay away,' Solly echoed.

  'It's Jackson all over again,' Peekay gasped at last. 'I've broken my hand again.'

  'Oh, Jesus, no!' Hymie gasped. 'Are you sure?'

  'You've got the skill, just run, run from him,' Solly cried.

  'I haven't got the legs, Solly.'

  Peekay came out as a southpaw. It wasn't a surprise to Mandoma, they'd worked it too often sparring, but- Gideon wondered why. He was so exhausted that it was all he could do to try to find the punch he'd need to take Peekay out. Time was running out. Halfway through the final round, Peekay put Mandoma down again with a good right hand, but there wasn't enough power in it to keep him on the floor. The Zulu had Peekay in the corner leaning on him when he heard Dutch shout, 'His hand, his left hand is broke!' Gideon came out of the clinch, moving back to the centre of the ring. Peekay's hand was broken; he couldn't hit him with a left. Peekay's left was the only hand that could put him down; he was safe. All he had to do was find the last punch. Peekay moved up to him and Gideon went onto the back foot, allowing Peekay to push him onto the ropes.

  With thirty seconds to go in the fight, PeekaY had Gideon on the ropes. He just had to hang on. The referee called for them to break and Peekay hung on. 'Break!' he heard the referee shout. He hung on a little longer. 'Break!' the command came again. The seconds were ticking by. Peekay stepped back but managed to drive a right under the black man's heart, then moved away. The black man's right upper-cut came from nowhere. Peekay didn't even see it coming. It connected flush to the champion's jaw and Peekay dropped like a stone to the canvas.