The Mandela Plot

by Kenneth Bonert

  gesels—chat, talk

  graft, grafting—to work, working

  grensvegter—a super-soldier, a Rambo type; literally, a border fighter

  grob—rough, loud, unmannered

  grot—an ugly woman

  Group Areas Act—apartheid law segregating land use according to race

  Habonim—Zionist youth movement

  hardegat—a hardass, tough guy, rebel

  headgear—tall frame that sticks up above a mine, with winch wheels on top; it powers the elevators, called skips, that are used to transport personnel and materials underground

  hitsik—excitable, worked up, febrile

  howzit—informal greeting

  ibberbottle—senile

  impimpi—a police informer

  indaba—an affair or concern, also a conference

  Isiqalo—the Beginning, the start of the violent uprising against apartheid in the black townships

  jacks—caning, corporal punishment, strokes of the cane

  Jarmans—brand of dress shoe

  Jody Sheckter—South African auto racer, world drivers’ champion in Formula One

  jol—a party, a good time; also to party or to play

  kaffir—an extremely insulting term for a black person; derived from the Muslim term for non-Muslims

  kaffirtjie—diminutive of kaffir

  kaych—energy, power

  kichel—a thin, crackly cookie made of flour, eggs, and sugar, usually served with chopped herring, sometimes liver

  kiddish—the Jewish blessing before a meal; alternate pronunciation of kiddush

  kieme—germs

  kishkes—innards, guts

  klaar—finished, done with

  klup—hit or smack (both noun and verb)

  koppie, koppies—small hill, hills, often rocky

  kuk—shit; alternate spelling of Afrikaans word kak

  kwela-kwela—literally, “climb up, climb up”; Zulu slang for police truck

  lank—a lot, greatly, very much

  larney—ritzy, fancy, well-off

  lekker—awesome, amazing; also attractive, desirable

  lesiba—a traditional African musical instrument using wind and strings

  lighty—youngster, a junior rank; not necessarily disparaging

  location—apartheid-era term for a racially segregated township

  macher—a dynamic, important person

  main manne—big shots, leaders, the gang in charge

  Majuta—Jew, Jewish

  mameloshen—Yiddish; literally, mother tongue

  matla ke a rona—“victory is certain,” ANC rallying cry

  matric—final year of high school, Standard Ten, also refers to an individual in Standard Ten

  mayibuye iAfrika—“bring back Africa,” ANC rallying cry

  Meccano —model construction toy

  megillah—a long, complicated story; literally, a scroll

  meshugenah in kop—mad in the head, completely crazy

  mezuzah—a small object, usually a narrow tube or rectangle about five inches long, fixed to the doorpost of a Jewish home and containing a scroll with sacred verses

  mielie—corn, often fresh corn on the cob

  mielie pap—a staple dish made of cornmeal cooked to a fluffy white texture similar to mashed potatoes

  minco—short for minimal coordination, as in very clumsy; a schoolyard insult on a par with spaz

  MK—see Umkhonto we Sizwe

  moer—to strike hard, to beat up

  moerse—enormous, mother of all

  mofi—insulting term for a male homosexual

  morogo—a type of wild spinach

  moshiach—the messiah

  muchu—insane, berserk

  mulet—madman, berserker

  munt—highly insulting term for a black person

  muti—traditional African medicines or magical charms

  Mzabalazo—the freedom struggle or uprising against apartheid

  naartjie—tangerine

  Nats—National Party, ruling party of apartheid South Africa

  necklace, necklacing—method of killing in which the victim is burned to death with a tire full of gasoline around the neck; used in the townships during the apartheid era, often as reprisal for suspected collaboration with the government

  noch—also, on top of, in addition to

  nooit—no way

  nush—to snack on; Lithuanian-Yiddish pronunciation of nosh

  oke—guy

  PAC—Pan Africanist Congress, militant anti-apartheid group that split off from the ANC

  Parktown prawn—a giant brown cricket of fearsome appearance

  pasop—beware, watch out, be careful

  pegged off—died

  plant—to beat someone up, to knock them out

  ponce—slick exploiter

  poonie—slang for female genitalia

  pup—deflated, flaccid, flat as in flat tire; alternate spelling of Afrikaans pap

  puss—insulting and crude slang for female genitalia; alternate spelling of Afrikaans word poes

  ratel—honey badger

  rawl—fight (both verb and noun)

  robot—traffic light

  rort—fight (both verb and noun)

  SACP—South African Communist Party

  sanctions—refers to disinvestment as well as prohibitions on trade with apartheid South Africa

  sangoma—traditional healer, spiritual guide

  sawubona—Zulu greeting

  scaly—low-down, underhanded

  schlemiel—a bungling fool

  schlof—sleep, nap

  schmock—an insult roughly equivalent to twerp or annoying idiot; South African pronunciation of schmuck

  schvantz—insult meaning penis, equivalent to prick

  Shabbos—the Jewish Sabbath, from Friday sundown to Saturday sundown

  sharp-sharp—expression to bid hello or goodbye or to express approval, similar to cheers

  shebeen—a tavern in a township, unlicenced during apartheid

  shiksa—a female domestic servant; also a non-Jewish female

  shiva—Jewish mourning period of seven days following the death of a relative

  shmerf—both a cigarette and the act of smoking

  shoch, shochedika—South African Jewish slang for a black person, disparaging but not as egregious as kaffir

  shot—thanks, nice one

  shtum—keep quiet

  shul—synagogue

  shungalulu or shongololo—black millipede

  shwank, shwanker—to show off, a show-off

  siddur, siddurim—Jewish book(s) of prayer

  sis—expression of disgust

  sjambok—a sturdy, heavy whip resembling a tapered stick, tradi-tionally made of rhino or hippo hide but more often of plastic or rubber

  skeef, skeefing—a hostile stare, giving the evil eye

  skelm—crook, thief, criminal

  slasto—paving made of slate shards set in concrete

  smaak—to crave, to have a taste for

  soek—to start trouble, to look for a fight, to hunt someone down; from Afrikaans for seek

  sosatie—kebab, skewer, usually with meat

  spanspek—cantaloupe

  Standard—school year or grade

  state of emergency—the apartheid regime’s suspension of ordinary legal rights, a draconian crackdown on the opposition

  stoep—veranda, covered porch

  stukkie—little piece; also a vulgar term for a girlfriend

  sut—exhausted

  swot—to study, especially for exams in school

  takkies—sneakers, running shoes

  tallis, tallaysim—Jewish prayer shawl(s), usually white with black stripes

  tefillin—phylacteries: a pair of black boxes, each attached to a leather strap and containing a holy Jewish text, traditionally worn by males at weekday prayer, one strapped on the arm, the other around the head

  tehilim—psalms

/>   tickey box—payphone, phone booth

  Tipp-Ex—correction fluid

  togs—task-specific clothes, usually for sports

  Tokoloshe—a hairy dwarf-like creature of African folklore, believed to be invisible

  Torah—sacred parchment scrolls containing the handwritten central text of Judaism; also refers to Jewish religious teachings more broadly

  torch—flashlight

  township—racially segregated urban area reserved for nonwhites under apartheid laws

  tsotsi—gangster

  tune—to tell or to say

  turps—mineral spirits or mineral turpentine; also called thinners or paint thinner

  tzitzit—Jewish religious undergarment with stringy tassels at the bottom corners

  UDF—United Democratic Front, a broad coalition of community groups opposed to apartheid and sometimes described as the ANC’s aboveground wing during the 1980s, when the ANC was banned. The UDF was itself all but banned in 1988, but this was offset by the creation of the Mass Democratic Movement (MDM). The UDF dissolved soon after the ANC was legalised.

  Umkhonto we Sizwe—Spear of the Nation, the underground armed wing of the African National Congress, cofounded by Nelson Mandela. It was merged with the South African military following the unbanning of the ANC in 1990.

  umzi watsha—“the city is burning,” opening lines of a Xhosa children’s song

  vasbyt—grit, stoical determination; also a term of encouragement to hang in there; from Afrikaans, literally, “bite hard”

  veld—bushland, uncultivated country

  vikkel—move fast, hurry; also spelled wikkel

  voetsak—very rude way of saying get lost or piss off

  wank—to masturbate; also a pathetic and pointless act

  yarmie—short for yarmulke, the religious skullcap for Jews

  Yiddluch—affectionate diminutive for Jews

  yortzeit—anniversary of a loved one’s death in Judaism, commemorated with prayer and the lighting of a candle; alternate pronunciation of yahrzeit

  zaydi—grandfather

  zol—cannabis, marijuana

  Acknowledgments

  Grateful thanks to Lauren Wein and Pilar Garcia-Brown at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt and to Craig Pyette and Anne Collins at Knopf Canada, for all their enthusiasm, insight, and warm encouragement. Thanks to Larry Cooper and Liz Duvall for their skillful copyediting. Many thanks also to Kim Witherspoon and Maria Whelan at Inkwell Management for their expert representation.

  And much love, as ever, to Nicole, Avril, and Pasey.

  1

  skots says it’s funny how soft the bottoms of Isaac’s feet are—man he’s always getting thorns or glass stuck in them that everyone else just runs right over. He says it goes with Isaac’s funny hair like grated carrots and all the freckles on his face that make it look like them white cheeks was sprayed with motor oil or something; goes with those funny shorts about twenty sizes too big that he can only wear cos his da has made all those extra baby holes in the belt for him. Skots laughs and says also maybe the soft feet have to do with Isaac’s skin that turns red as anything from one little tiny poke of the sun, and also look how skinny your legs are man, like two spaghettis.

  They are all sitting in the burnt-out piece of veld behind Nussbaum’s kosher butchery, eating a pigeon that Isaac shot off the phone wire with his catty when everyone else missed, and suddenly everyone goes all quiet, Isaac feeling them watching him. All he can hear is the noise from Beit Street, a tram clanging and rumbling, Yiddish shouts from the men selling fruit or bread or coal or ice.

  Isaac looks slowly at Skots. —You calling me something hey Skots?

  Skots seems to ponder the question, bunching and opening his toes in the dust at the edge of the firepit they’d scratched and packed with tomato-box wood since turned to greyblack ashes. Pigeon bones and pigeon grease lie on top; singed feathers still smoking.

  Isaac says, —If you not bladey calling me something you better shut your bladey trap, know that Skots.

  The others wait. Isaac watching Skots, thinking maybe he’d be a Stupid and try jump at him like last time, Skots a taller older boy with muscles in his arms like hard little apples. But that other time he’d gotten the thumb in his teeth and bitten so hard, to the bone, making Skots cry like a girl, saying I give, I give. Isaac gets his heels under him and leans forward.

  Charlie, looking from one to the other, quick and nervous, says, —Hey hey you all know what? And starts telling them about a man was so crazy, so moochoo in his head, that he was doing these very bad things that he, Charlie, has seen with his own two eyes.

  —What bad things? says Isaac, staring at Skots.

  Charlie doesn’t want to tell, but after they press him and he tells them everything, Isaac starts to feel hot and sick. His eyes and his throat grow full. He doesn’t care about Skots no more, or about anything else. He stands up. —Lez go get him! Lez get that bladey bastid.

  When Isaac runs, the others follow. No hesitation. They pass through the alley next to Nussbaum’s and into the noise and motion of Beit Street, the Yiddisher jabber of the sellers and the horses pulling carts and the bicycles ching-chinging and the Packards hooting and the doubledecker tram with its twirly stairs rumbling off down the middle of the street, scratching loose blue sparks from the wires above. On the corner, cages of gabbling chickens are stacked high and farther down the iceman with heavy gloves is unloading blocks wrapped in straw from his horse cart. There are tables of vegetables and the noises of sawing and banging from Dovedovitz and tinking noises from Katz the tinsmith while down the next alley the blacksmith’s forge glows orange hot, and all along in front of the long covered stoep there are Xhosa women on the side of the street sitting with their legs sideways on their bright blankets with their trinkets of ivory and stinkwood. Behind the glass of the butcher shops there hang black logs of salt-cured biltong and fat bottleblue flies mass on the blooded gobs of sawdust swept into the gutter with the smelly chunks of horse kuk.

  On the far side of Beit Street, beyond the shops, they run between row houses with roofs of corrugated iron. It gets quiet here: just their breathing, their patting feet. Lizards on whitewash in the bright sun. They run till the asphalt ends and the dirt is hard as steel, pocked with holes or the glitter of quartz. Here at the end of the road is an open-sided square of tin houses with a single water tap in the middle on the open dirt, where women line up with squalling babies lashed to their backs and clinking buckets in their hands. Men sit on newspapers in the afternoon glow, children wrestle and shout. Someone is playing a guitar made of rubber bands and pieces of a detergent box.

  They slow. Isaac touches the catty in his back pocket, a nice one he made from some inner tube stretched on a Y of strong wood; shoots stones beautifully hard and straight. He turns on Charlie. —Where is he, wherezit?

  —Hang on, says Charlie. They watch him run to the far corner of the square where there’s a gap in the tin and he looks around, then comes jogging back shaking his head. —He not there yet.

  —Lez go back and play by the chains park there.

  —Lez go to the churu man and tell him kuk banana.

  —We staying here, says Isaac. We staying here till he comes. Charlie, you keep an eye.

  They wander down to a door where Isaac lets Skots go first. Dark coming in from the bright and sudden close smells of mielie pap and sour piss. Now he sees the table made of cardboard boxes with a bedsheet on it with pictures of strawberries and cigarette holes. Auntie Peaches is there: she passes them sweet real coffee in an old Horlicks jar—coffee he’s not allowed at home but Mame will never find out. Coffee to wash down the taste of the charred pigeon. He takes his sip and passes on. Bad coughing rips through the tin wall. Auntie Peaches pokes his tummy. —How’s the little devil hey, hey? Little devilhead, little troublemaker.

  He rolls on his back with his knees up, giggling. This is happiness in the close feel of this homely space. But Charlie comes shouting:
—Ouens, ouens, hy’s hier die bliksem!

  Guys, guys, the bastard’s here.

  Outside the sun burns a white disc through a passing cloud as they run to the corner and turn into the alley there, sausages of kuk underfoot to dodge. At the end is the rubbish place that used to be a hole but is now a little rubbish mountain and in front of it is the madman.

  —Is the puppy man, says Davey. Thaz the puppy man.

  —I know him, says Nixie. He try sell them every day all around.

  Puppyman is tall and wears only armless dungaree overalls with holes in them, too big for his lean frame, his cap is stuffed in a back pocket and his head is bald in spots and he is missing one sock and the heel flaps on one shoe. He sways on his feet with a small bottle in one hand. On the ground in front of him is a tall cardboard apple box. Things are moving in that box. He bends down and takes out a little dog that’s white with black spots, puts it carefully on top of two stacked bricks and stands looking down at it.

  —Come on, says Isaac. But his heart is hammering very big in him and he goes slowly and can feel no one wants to come with as they follow behind. Puppyman looks bigger and bigger the closer he gets. Puppyman has deep wrinkles everywhere in his face like they cut in with a knife. Isaac says to him, —Scuse hey, what you doing with that liddel dog?

  Takes a while for Puppyman to find his focus, squinting down at Isaac. —Why you care? You wanna buy?

  —How much? says Isaac.

  —Ach you got no monies, lightie. Piss off now. Voetsak!

  The pup is standing up on the bricks, the whole of its fat-bellied body trembling; then it squats at the back and some pee runs off the bricks. It’s true that Puppyman doesn’t look right in the head. His eyes are yellowish and full of red veins and it’s like they are covered over with glassy webs. He takes a drink from that bottle and talks some kind of nonsense to himself. His breath smells like petrol. There’s dirt crusted in some of the blobs of his hair, and bits of maybe paint or something also. He has red blistery sores on one side of his mouth and not many teeth.