Tandia

by Bryce Courtenay

  'Wait a minute, Tandia, why did you say that? What have you heard?' Peekay looked directly at her, his eyes slightly narrowed, the way he did when he sensed. something. Tandia demurred, not wanting to fight Gideon on the issue. 'Ag, nothing Peekay, it was just a silly "just suppose"!'

  'Just supposes' were things Peekay encouraged in the office when they were discussing a case. The wildest 'Just suppose…?' would often give them a valuable insight into a case or the character of a witness. Now she watched to see if Peekay scratched his nose, a certain sign that he felt he was onto something and wasn't prepared to let it go. Hastily she added, 'It's, well, just that we have the government on the run at Langa. Robert Sobukwe may be too impatient but I wish the ANC had the same guts as him. Look at what the PAC are doing in Langa.'

  Langa was an African township in the Western Cape originally built to house 5,000 people and which now housed 25,000 of which 20,000 qualified as 'new' bachelors - men who had been split (cleaved was a better word) from their families, men who were condemned to poverty and forced to return to their so-called tribal homeland.

  Langa was in a crisis situation and the PAC had sent its organizers in to stir the pot and exploit the tension among the disconsolate men. They had done this so effectively that the possibility of a black uprising was being taken seriously by parliament, who ordered up troops with Saracen armoured cars and paramilitary police. Even the air force with Sabre jets and Harvard bombers was on emergency standby. How they intended using the aircraft was anyone's guess, but it was into this overheated atmosphere that Robert Sobukwe, the leader of the PAC, had devised his organization's hastily contrived national campaign for the abolition of the hated pass laws.

  Monday, 21 March was a bright highveld late summer morning with just a hint of autumn in the air. Juicey Fruit Mambo didn't need to get up early so he slept in late. He'd had a bit too much beer the night before and when he'd wakened as usual at six his' head was sore; so he'd turned over, pulled his blanket over his head and gone back to sleep, waking finally around eight and feeling somewhat better.

  Madam Flame Flo's house girl had left him a pot of meat and phutu, maize meal cooked light and fluffy with plenty of salt, and she'd added two ears of roasted corn. When Juicey Fruit got up, he sat in the sun in the back yard eating quietly and reading the Sunday Times. He looked for things in it to talk to Tandia about, hoping also he might find a court Case in which Red was involved. He'd followed the Geldenhuis murder trial for three years, searching the papers every day for news. When Peekay secured a verdict of guilty (which was later overturned) he'd simply helped himself to a bottle of Mama Tequila's brandy from the Bluey Jay supply and wandered off down to the river and got himself joyfully plastered, keeping the entire African village awake all night. When he'd returned about noon the next day Mama Tequila had chastised him, 'It was a rotten party without you, you hear! We all got drunk with happiness and here you are doing it on your own down by the river, you got no consideration, Edward King George Juicey Fruit Mambo!' About mid morning, when he'd finished reading the paper, he went out to inspect the Packard. The beautiful pink car gleamed under an open-sided car port which Madam Flame Flo had had specially built for their visits.

  Juicey Fruit Mambo realized that more people than ought to were passing the house. It was a Monday; the people should be at work and the children at school. Why were so many of them walking towards the centre of the township? He stopped and leaned over the roof of the Packard. 'Where are you going, what is all the excitement?' he called to a passing group of high-school students dressed neatly in their freshly pressed uniforms.

  The group stopped and a boy of about sixteen raised his arm and gave the thumbs-up, freedom salute of the PanAfricanist. 'Izwe Lethu! Our Land!' he shouted, clearly excited. 'Have you not heard, Bra? We are going to the police station without our passes! Maybe they will arrest us,' he added, puffing out his chest, 'but we don't care. Sobukwe says they can't arrest everyone, so we must all do it all at once, then the police can't do anything, man!'

  Juicey Fruit Mambo grinned, showing his two pointed gold incisors, then he shook his head. 'Haya! haya! Sobukwe, he said this thing? The police they can always do something. Maybe they will beat you with a sjambok, or they will bring in the dogs or even tear gas and the water gun machine!' He pointed to an aeroplane flying high overhead. 'Maybe they will bomb you!' he laughed. 'The amaBhunu, they can always do something!'

  'Izwe Lethu! Today is the first step to freedom!' a young school girl in the group shouted out. Then she started to giggle, so -they all began to laugh, though Juicey Fruit Mambo could sense there was hope in their laughter; they really believed. 'Kids, they're all crazy!' he thought to himself.

  Like Tandia, Juicey Fruit Mambo was an ANC man, though privately he also thought of them as a bunch of no-hopers. He was also surprised at the demonstration; he'd heard Madam Flame Flo tell Mama Tequila that the township was always quiet, even when there was trouble elsewhere. He'd first heard Robert Sobukwe's call to action on the car radio, then, only an hour or so before, he'd read an editorial in the Sunday paper. It was one of the subjects he'd tucked away in his mind to talk to Tandia about. The editorial had suggested there would be trouble in the Western Cape, near Langa and also in some areas of the Southern Transvaal, particularly Orlando township in Johannesburg where Sobukwe himself would lead a group to the police station. The paper anticipated the whole thing would be a bit of an anti-climax but that the police, given seventy-two hours warning by Sobukwe himself, would be heavily armed and ready for anything.

  Juicey Fruit Mambo set about waxing the Packard and soon forgot about the people heading for the demonstration.

  In his mind he was rehearsing the conversation he would have with Tandia later when they'd drive to Alexandra township for supper before returning to Vereeniging.

  Juicey Fruit Mambo missed Tandia terribly. For nearly five years he'd taken her to school and later to university and back every day. She'd sit up in the front seat of the old Packard with him and chat all the way home to Bluey Jay. Because she'd been shy and a misfit and so somewhat isolated both at school and later at Natal University, she would use Juicey Fruit Mambo as her sounding board. They always spoke in Zulu, which he had taught her. She'd talk to him about her lessons and later her lectures and Juicey Fruit, whom Tandia had taught to read and write, took these conversations very seriously. And because he was the only one who actually wanted to hear her talk, Tandia developed a technique of explaining her studies to the huge Zulu so that he could, at least in part, understand them. He was probably the only chauffeur in South Africa who could recite the complete legal torts as a Catholic might recite the catechism.

  Tandia didn't know it at the time but these daily lessons with Juicey Fruit Mambo had taught her to explain often quite complex ideas in a simple and direct manner. Many of her clients were illiterate and for the most part completely ignorant of the law, and she became famous for her simple and articulate explanations. She was known among them as umlomo ubomvu ocacisay, the red mouth who explains. Like so many African nicknames it was a clever combination of ideas; it told people Tandia was a member of the Red team, at the same time it gave them a physical characteristic to latch onto, the bright lipstick she always wore, and finally it told them what she was famous for. Not bad in four words. Juicey Fruit worried daily about Tandia's safety in Johannesburg and had no trust whatsoever in the boxer Mandoma, even if he was a Zulu. He reasoned that Gideon was a midget and that he could crush him with one hand. What use was a midget when half a dozen tsotsis came at her? Now he grinned at the thought of how he'd solved the problem of her safety.

  His love for kids had paid off when, after three days of the previous week spent driving around Meadowlands,

  Orlando and Moroka townships, stopping and asking teenagers everywhere, he finally located the whereabouts of Johnny Tambourine.

  He didn't recognize Johnny Tambourine when he drew
up in the pink Packard outside a shop in Moroka, but he had no need to worry. The moment he opened his mouth to speak Johnny stepped forward. Juicey Fruit Mambo didn't have the sort of face you forgot in a hurry. The tall young man who stepped up to the car had a serious expression on his face.

  'Long time no see, Bra.' He spoke quietly with no animation.

  Johnny Tambourine was now a tall, lean teenager of sixteen who wore the familiar baggy pants cut down to nothing at the ankles, open-necked floral shirt and cardigan of the tsotsi. On his head he wore the ubiquitous 'tsotsi' itself, the English working man's cloth cap. Juicey Fruit Mambo hid his disquiet at finding Johnny Tambourine was a tsotsi, but after his initial surprise, he realized that it had been inevitable and was, now that he thought about it, perfect. That is, providing he could get the gang to go along with his plans.

  Juicey Fruit Mambo broke into an enormous smile. He was dressed in a dark grey suit with a white shirt and brilliant pink tie to match the Packard; he was looking sharp. 'I see you, Johnny Tambourine!' He stuck his large hand out of the car window and Johnny Tambourine took it, his own hand disappearing into the huge black fist.

  Johnny Tambourine didn't return the traditional Zulu greeting, nor did he affect the two-phase grip. He didn't go in for that shit…I see you, you see me, everybody sees everybody, then the cows and the hens and on and on for ten minutes or more before any business you've come for takes place! That sort of talk was for the peasants. He remembered the huge man standing in front of him clearly but that was a long time ago when he'd been a little snotnose with a bicycle wheel hoop. He wondered what the big bastard wanted after all these years? His expression remained sober as he spoke. 'I hear you want me, Bra?'

  If Juicey Fruit Mambo felt insulted by Johnny's poor manners he showed no sign. He'd lived in a township himself and knew the kids had no respect for the old ways. He released his grip on Johnny's hand and waited while the three other tsotsi youths moved up to the car. The handshake had broken the ice and the three others seemed more friendly.

  'Remember me, Dog Poep Ismali?' a light-skinned youth asked cheekily and then grinned at Juicey Fruit Mambo, taking his hand and shaking it silently. Juicey Fruit Mambo also offered his hand to Flyspeck Mendoza, who was the smallest of the three by far and dragged one leg slightly as he walked. He wore spectacles and seemed a very serious type, not at all the kind to be a tsotsi, Too Many Fingers Bembi hung back a little, but when Juicey Fruit Mambo extended his hand his face broke into a huge white smile and he gripped it in the African manner, the only one of the three boys to do so.

  Juicey Fruit Mambo scratched his head as though thinking, his fingers tapping down the length of the long jagged scar which crossed his shining pate. Then he suddenly patted his scalp, indicating hair. 'The white one. Where is the white one?'

  'Kaas Kop? He crossed over.' Johnny spat.

  Juicey Fruit clearly didn't understand the expression and looked querulous. 'He is in gaol?'

  'No, man, his skin, it was white like his hair, so he crossed over. He went to Cape Town where nobody knows him. He's white shit now, dog shit dried in the sun!'

  The other three laughed, it was clear that Johnny Tambourine was still their leader. Juicey Fruit considered this news for a moment. 'That is enough punishment, now he must live with that fear.'

  'I hear you been asking all over the place for me?' Johnny said, kicking at the dirt. He seemed ready to talk and as he looked up he brushed a fly from his face. Juicey Fruit Mambo noticed that three fingers of his left hand seemed deformed, as though they'd been badly smashed and hadn't been properly set again.

  'This is true, Johnny Tambourine, I have come to make you keep your promise.'

  'Promise?' Johnny Tambourine laughed, drawing his head back arrogantly, 'We are tsotsi, we snatch bags, pick pockets, mug and rob. Sometimes we get in a bit of housebreaking and theft, but we never make promises,' he boasted. 'That is why we are tsotsi, you can never trust us!'

  Juicey Fruit Mambo opened the door and stepped from the car. 'First you are a man, Johnny Tambourine. Then you are a tsotsi. Is it the man or the tsotsi who does not keep promises?' He towered nearly a foot above the already tall youth.

  The movement from Johnny Tambourine was amazingly fast. The knife came from somewhere, he opened the blade with his teeth and the thrust of it came towards Juicey Fruit Mambo, seemingly in one smooth lightning movement. But it wasn't fast enough. Juicey Fruit Mambo grabbed him by the wrist and appeared simply to turn him upside down. One moment he was standing with a knife in his hand and the next the knife spun from it and Johnny Tambourine hit the dirt as though he'd suddenly, on a whim, decided to dive into the dust head first.

  'Ho!' Juicey Fruit Mambo grinned. 'Now I have seen the tsotsi, can I please talk to the man?'

  Dog Poep Ismali, Too Many Fingers Bembi and Flyspeck Mendoza took a step backwards, ready to run. Nobody had ever seen anything like Juicey Fruit Mambo before. He'd 'flipped' Johnny Tambourine without even appearing to move from the spot.

  Johnny Tambourine rose -slowly, dusting his pants with both hands, his eyes downcast. He walked over and picked up the long open-bladed pocket knife and snapped it closed, dropping it into a pocket of his neatly pressed tsotsi pants. Finally he looked up, measuring Juicey Fruit with his eyes as though nothing had happened. The look showed he was still not afraid. Juicey Fruit Mambo liked what he saw a lot. Maybe he'd come to the right place.

  'The man will keep his promise,' Johnny Tambourine said quietly.

  Juicey Fruit asked for a meeting the following day, promising to bring beer.

  'Carling Black Label, that's what we drink, Bra. Bring a case, tsotsi are big beer drinkers!' Flyspeck Mendoza chipped in.

  The following day they met again under one of the few remaining large trees in Moroka township. Someone had built a crude bench all the way around the trunk of a large old leadwood tree. It was strange to find a leadwood at this altitude but the old tree looked well set, its dark grey bark rough looking with its characteristic longitudinal furrows and irregular transverse cracks. In fact the entire tree had a grey appearance which suited the bleak landscape of the township.

  The five of them sat under the tree. There were a few other people about, all of them youths of roughly the same age. 'Don't worry, those guys are my operators, real cowboys; they'll watch for the police.' Johnny Tambourine looked at Juicey Fruit Mambo and nodded his head towards the Packard. 'The Black Label?'

  Juicey Fruit Mambo's mouth fell open. 'Haya, Johnny Tambourine, here in the open? We will drink here under this tree?'

  'I told you man, those are my men, we'll know long before a Black Jack can come near.'

  They sat down under the tree drinking beer, Juicey Fruit opening the bottles in a flash with a gold incisor. Flyspeck Mendoza produced a large zol and they shared the joint between them, the marijuana making them feel cool and relaxed. When they'd each drunk a couple of bottles of beer and the zol was down to a finger nip, Juicey Fruit Mambo opened up the subject of why they were there.

  'Johnny Tambourine, Flyspeck Mendoza, Dog Poep Ismali and Too Many Fingers Bembi,' Juicey Fruit Mambo spoke each name slowly and with great respect, as though they were men of substance and purpose, and the gesture was not lost on the four boys. 'You remember Tandy?' Each of them nodded, smiling at his own memory of the days in Sophiatown when they'd met what they thought must be a beautiful film star.

  'She was a great unine, we talk about her still sometimes,' Johnny Tambourine confessed.

  'She is a member of your gang. It is a long time now but she agreed, you agreed also. Time does not change these things, my brothers,' Juicey Fruit said rather ponderously.

  Dog Poep Ismali laughed. 'She will be the prettiest tsotsi in tsotsidom!'

  This. sent them all into gales of laughter. The dope was having its effect and the giggles had set in. 'Now she is a lawyer in Jo'burg.'

 
'Yes, we know, Bra. She is called "the red mouth who explains", and she is the world champion Gideon Mandoma's sweetheart,' Flyspeck Mendoza said; then he added, 'He is still our friend.'

  'Haya! You have seen them together, you have spoken to her?' Juicey Fruit asked.

  Too Many Fingers Bembi shook his head. 'No, he is big time now. We do not see him, only in the movies or when he rides in a big open Cadillac.'

  'He has a Cadillac, a big open car?' Juicey Fruit said, impressed.

  'No, Bra, it is a car that belongs to other people, big-time gangsters I think, but when he wins he drives in the back of this car and people come from all over to see him,' Dog Poep Ismali said.

  'He is the best world champion of any weight any time in world history!' Flyspeck declared.

  'I think maybe Peekay, the Onoshobishobi Ingelosi, he is better,' Juicey Fruit Mambo said mischievously.

  'Never!' they all chorussed. 'He beat him hollow! He knocked him out!' Too Many Fingers Bembi protested, getting quite upset.

  It was Johnny Tambourine who brought the meeting to order again. 'How must we help Tandy?' he asked, the whites of his eyes red from smoking the zol.

  Juicey Fruit Mambo opened four more bottles of beer and handed one each to the boys before de-capping another for himself. Then he told them the story of Tandia and why she hated Geldenhuis. The treatment of Tandia at the hands of the police officer was a familiar enough story and each of them understood how such a thing could happen. They only really became deeply interested when Juicey Fruit spoke of the murder trial and how Peekay had nailed Geldenhuis and gotten a conviction for murder against the policeman which, naturally, had subsequently been quashed. But Geldenhuis was determined to get Peekay and with him Tandia.