Hunger Eats a Man (9 page)

“Oh, you mean boy to boy, sir?”

Bongani blackens with rage. “I'm going to kill you, poor Hunger-Eateeeaan!” He says the last word louder than the others.

In the area that is the buffer between Hunger-Eats-a-Man and Canaan is built Gxumani Community Hall, and this may be said to be the Rainbow's earnest attempt to bring together the two communities whose racial difference has given way to class difference. Gxumani Community Hall is mainly used by the community of Canaan. They use it for functions like weddings, meetings and beauty contests in which people from Hunger-Eats-a-Man are allowed to participate, although they seldom, if ever, win.

Some lucky people from Hunger-Eats-a-Man got themselves employment in Canaan. These are normally women who work there as domestics, cleaning and washing for their masters and also taking care of their children. Sometimes these lucky women can be seen taking their young masters to school or crèche. Many people from Hunger-Eats-a-Man tried but failed to get employment in Canaan. In fact, it is hard to find employment anywhere.

MaDuma seldom goes to Canaan because she does not work there, and she does not or cannot have any friends there. Yet she sees a lot of it from her home or when she is going to town via Canaan. MaDuma has a relative there, her cousin Victor, but his wife made it clear from the start that she does not want to have anything to do with people from Ndlalidlindoda or any relative of Victor's for that matter, because she only married him and not his family.

MaDuma has only once entertained the possibility of seeking work in Canaan but soon decided against it, realising that she cannot manage to work for a black person like herself, especially not for another black woman. She believes that black people, especially black women, oppress other black women if they have the privilege of being their employers. But it hurts her to see the women who work in Canaan come with their groceries when they have been paid their wages, which, as the employers in Canaan have agreed, will never be more than R800 a month. Although she does not like this amount, she envies those who come handling plastic bags from Spar and Shoprite and longs for the smell that these plastics have. However, when that longing makes her feel sad, she consoles herself, “It will be finished in one week!”

Sometimes she spits forcibly and goes to hide inside; sometimes she forgets to spit and just runs inside.

It is a cloudy Sunday morning as MaDuma leaves her home for Canaan Hall, as the people of Ndlalidlindoda mockingly refer to Gxumani Community Hall. The last time she went there was three months back when she attended a meeting of the Grinding Stone, the Gxumani Women's Organisation, of which Nomsa is the leader. The Grinding Stone was started as the Canaan Women's Organisation, expanding only in 1995 to include the starving community of Ndlalidlindoda. Many women of Ndlalidlindoda were very pleased when they were called upon and encouraged to join their well-to-do and educated fellow women in the Grinding Stone. MaDuma was not interested at first because of the pride and self-centredness of the people of Canaan. But now she has become a dedicated member and has noticed, with a bit of concern, that she is gradually getting fond of Nomsa despite her hatred of anything Canaan.

It is 8.50 a.m. as she arrives at Gxumani Community Hall and the meeting starts at exactly nine o'clock, as scheduled. Nomsa is very strict about punctuality, and many women love and fear her. She has said many times that she wants to put an end to the silly notion that if a meeting is said to begin at nine, it means it will start at ten.
MaDuma fears Nomsa just like the others, although she tries by all means to deny it. When Nomsa is angry and shouting, everyone does not feel well.

“Okay, women!” Nomsa hits the table in front of her as she calls for the attention of those still whispering to one another. “Let's begin!” she says loudly.

MaDuma thinks Nomsa is pleased to hear all the women keeping quiet, as if the angel of death is close at hand. The little bitch is indeed the angel of death! Why is it that even I am frightened by her? Maybe she uses some spells to frighten us. MaDuma remembers a story she heard in the news on the radio about a woman who stole a child and cooked him in order to enhance her position in the church.

Nomsa asks – or rather orders – Ma'am Mchunu to open the meeting with prayer, and MaDuma has a feeling of
déjà vu
when she learns that the woman is from Canaan. Ma'am Mchunu is a retired teacher and her title of “Ma'am Mchunu” has remained with her as some kind of an emeritus title. She taught for about thirty-eight years at Thuthukani Primary, acting as principal in sixteen of those years. All these thoughts run through MaDuma's head as Ma'am Mchunu is praying, balancing herself on a walking stick without which she cannot stand on her own.

“We also pray that you liberate us from male oppression and protect us and our daughters from men who have become animals who rape and kill us.”

Many women cry “Hmn”, and even MaDuma comes back from her mental wanderings.

“We ask all this in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen!”

“Amen!” the women say in unison.

When Ma'am Mchunu drags her leg to her seat in the first row of chairs, Nomsa goes to the front and again addresses the Grinding Stone. She starts by thanking the women for their presence in what she thinks is the most important meeting they have ever had. “I am saying that because today we are going to discuss what I call ‘the
bestiality of men'.” The wording interests some women so much that they feel obliged to ululate and others concur by saying, “They are beasts” or just “Yes”.

“But before we begin, I want to read you some of the newspaper clippings I have got with me to show you what I mean when I say these men are nothing but animals.”

She takes about twenty minutes reading these excerpts, each of which involves a story of some kind of violence against women. Some of these stories are about rape and others about other kinds of domestic violence. She reads all the stories that are short and summarises the longer ones, underscoring the main points.

“This is about a seventy-year-old man who raped his six-year-old granddaughter.” She pauses for a moment, allowing the story to sink into the minds of the women. “Thanks to our efforts against the patriarchal legal system, the bastard is serving a life sentence in jail. It's a pity, though, that this is likely to be the shortest life sentence ever. But we hope that the filthy thing will continue his sentence in hell if he dies soon, as I believe he will.”

The women welcome the thought with ululation, and many are convinced that if the old man dies, there is certainly no place for him in heaven.

In another story, a man is accused of raping his two daughters of nine and twelve years respectively. When the little girls testified in court, they stated that their father had been sleeping with them for a long time and had told them this is a normal thing that every father does to his children. He said it is so important that it is never spoken about. The women cannot help groaning at this.

Nomsa cannot hide her anger as she reads this story for the tenth time. “The most disgusting thing is that this beast claims to be a priest!” Nomsa says in a voice filled with anger.

This piece triggers noise among the women as they ask themselves, without hoping to find an answer, “What has happened to the men who once lived in this world?”

When Nomsa mentions the fact that the culprit is a priest, MaDuma almost jumps in fright. It takes about a minute before she is able to assure herself that, if it was her husband Nomsa was talking about, she would have known. But the thought of a priest having done something like that troubles her. If one priest can do it, why can't another one do it as well? She suddenly recalls a day when they heard on the radio the story of a minister who was accused of molesting young boys. Priest said that the devil likes the people who try to serve God because the devil is God's rival. Maybe he was trying to tell her something …

MaDuma is rescued from the troubling thoughts by Nomsa, who shouts for quiet in the room. “Have you also become animals?” she demands harshly. MaDuma is astonished at how the stories affect Nomsa. “Have you also become men?”

The women sing “No”, “Not a chance” or “No ways”. For a moment, being a man is considered the filthiest thing in the world.

When MaDuma looks again at Nomsa, she notices for the first time that she has a very round face and her cheeks look like a fat cake. This is only visible when Nomsa's anger has reached its highest point.

“How would you feel if it was your husband who did this? Hhe? Don't you see that we should do something to protect ourselves from these men?”

The hands hit the air in agreement, “Yes!”

The enthusiasm with which the women accept the idea of doing something pleases Nomsa.

“If only it was possible to get rid of them all!” one woman laments.

“She who is barren is blessed!” another offers.

Nomsa hears and corrects her, “She who chooses not to have children blesses herself!”

The women acclaim.

When that noise has subsided, Nomsa continues with her reading. She tells the Grinding Stone that she is now reading from the local newspaper,
The Eye of the People
. “This means that the perpetrators of these evil deeds live with us in our community.”

Murmurs follow this, but Nomsa continues as if she has heard nothing. “I think those of you who live in Ndlalidlindoda – and we should change that name now that we are free – you know Dlamini, who has been raping his eleven-year-old daughter for only God knows how long.” Nomsa pauses for a while and her cheeks become rounder as she adds, “To prove that this is an animal, when he was asked why he did such an evil thing, he said it was his duty as a farmer to taste his fruit first, before selling it in the market!”

Even the quietest of the women utters some words of disbelief at this. The problem is that this man was only arrested for nine months and was released when his docket disappeared from court. The noise resulting from hearing Dlamini's story is stronger than that caused by earlier stories. The impact is made more acute by the fact that it is close at hand. It is impossible to imagine it cannot happen to you if it happened to a person you know.

Before the noise has completely subsided, Nomsa reads another story, which is as bad as the previous one, if not worse: “This is about a young man who was found having sex with his mother!” Nomsa allows the women to utter their anger and disbelief, and then continues, “Hmn! I can't believe this. The woman to whom this was done is a helpless disabled woman!”

The noise that follows is not the horror and disbelief of before. It looks as if the women have come to a resolution and Nomsa demands, “What is going on, women of the struggle? Why is everyone standing up? I am not finished here and I want you to listen!”

MaDuma is at the centre of the voices that are speaking at the same time. She turns toward Nomsa and says, “We think it's no use lamenting these violations without action. Instead of recounting these evil deeds and in the process hurting ourselves even more, we think it's better to pay a visit to these two men you have just spoken about.”

This is followed by many shouts of “Yes” and the noise of women beating the tables.

Nomsa is both gratified and frightened by what is happening.
It is good that the women have understood the gravity of their predicament. But taking the law into their own hands is problematic. It involves violence, and violence has bad repercussions. As the leader, she will be held responsible for anything silly the women may do.

“No! Women, don't! Taking the law into our own hands will make things worse!” For the first time, as the leader of the Grinding Stone, Nomsa feels the pain of being negated by the women she is leading.

But the women leave from the back door without caring whether she consents or not. Outside it is MaDuma who has taken on the leadership and Nomsa marvels at how well she sings the slogans.

“Down with animals, down!”

“Down!”

“Down with men, down!”

“Down!”

“Down with dogs, down!”

“Down!”

“Forward with women, forward!”

“Forward!”

“Forward the struggle, forward!”

“Forward!”

The Grinding Stone has left the hall toyi-toying and singing. They are joined on the way by more women and men who like action. Before they reach Shiyabazali it is decided that five strong and able-bodied women should run to the Ntshangase home and make sure that Muntukabani is there and does not run away before the whole group arrives. If he is not there the crowd will go to Dlamini's place.

As the women nominate those they trust, a name is suddenly created for the five women as the Special Five. MaDuma leads the Special Five, and in no time they reach the Ntshangase home. It is, according to MaDuma, big but without a plan. It looks as if it was meant to be a hall or crèche, anything but a house.

MaDuma and MaShandu enter the Ntshangase homestead, leaving the other three women outside to check that their prey does not try to outwit them by leaving through the back doors and over the fences. When the two women are on the veranda, they wait and listen, hoping to make out if Muntukabani is inside or not. MaDuma holds the tip of her forefinger to her mouth as she tiptoes closer to the door. She hears the man's voice speaking inside and cocks her ears. She also hears the woman who is mute struggling to communicate with her son, but in vain.

“You see?” It is a man's voice.

MaDuma's ear almost touches the door now.

“I told you that I won't beg you! I told you that if you don't want to give me, she will.”

The words and sounds do not tell MaDuma enough, so she decides to go and peep at the window in which one of the six panes is broken. She slowly pushes the curtain aside. It takes a while before she grasps what is going on and, when she does, she closes her mouth with the palm of her right hand.

MaShandu opens her mouth without making any sound and asks what MaDuma has seen. MaDuma waves for MaShandu to come and see for herself. After having seen the whole of Muntukabani and his complaining pet, MaShandu slowly reverses, turns and takes two steps back before she vomits.

Muntukabani hears her and demands harshly who is at his door. “I don't want to be disturbed right now! I am busy. Go away!”

MaShandu continues to vomit and MaDuma calls the three women outside to come quickly since their prey has noticed them. When the others arrive, MaShandu is still stooped and her hand is next to her chin. “What I saw today, I hope I never see again,” she says when she has enough air.

“Was he having it with her again?” Zodwa demands curiously.

“There is a dog inside” is all MaDuma can say.

Under the circumstances this sentence proves to be meaningless. To the three women who have seen nothing it means that the dog, Muntukabani, is inside, but the women want confirmation that he was raping his mother again.

MaDuma sees they have misunderstood and again prepares to do her best. Her mind is so affected that she feels as if she owns no vocabulary. “There are three people inside,” she says with difficulty, before correcting herself. “There are two people and a dog.”

The look on Zodwa's face tells her that she does not understand.

“He had the dog in front of him!” is all that MaDuma can bring herself to say.

At last the three women, starting with Zodwa, begin to grasp the situation.

“I think he needs to be killed!” Zodwa says, heading for the window, hoping to see for herself, but by now Muntukabani has left the dog. She is disappointed but not discouraged, so she goes back to the gate where the Grinding Stone has finally arrived.

“You won't believe what we have seen!” she says loudly, and the women who are in front demand enthusiastically to know what indeed they have seen.

“There is a dog inside there!” she points a finger at the house and is pleased to see some of her audience feeling the same agony that she felt when MaDuma could not tell her.

The others shout, “What?”, and Zodwa continues, “There are two people inside, and a dog.”

Nomsa finds that she cannot take it any longer so she yells, “Can someone tell us what has been happening here? Is the man we are looking for present?”

MaDuma has composed herself and is beginning to be able to get a grasp on her vocabulary. She still feels, however, that what has happened needs to be expressed in as few words as possible. “We found him having sex with a dog in front of his mother!”

All the women who are close enough to hear articulate their disgust and disbelief in different ways, and the news is transferred from the front to the back as if by some kind of wire.

“Let's kill this filthy thing right now!”

“Today we are going to spill blood!”

“Why did God create men in the first place?”

Nomsa is among the very few who care to use their minds now. The others just want to kill the bastard and get it over with. He does not deserve to live in the same world with them. “Let him go to his home in hell.”

“Now listen, women!” Nomsa calls them to order. “We should not think with our hearts even though what is happening around us is so disgusting.” The noise subsides a little, but Nomsa can feel that what she is saying has very little, if any, impact on the women. “Is he still inside, MaShandu?” Nomsa asks.

“Yes. He is inside.”

“I suggest we get him out and talk to him!” She tries to say this as forcefully as possible, but receives the negation she is trying to avoid.

“Okay then. Let's cut off his testicles but not kill him. Let's remove that which makes him behave exactly like an animal!” Zodwa cries.

This sounds like a better idea to the women who are hankering after blood.

“Yes, let them be removed!”

“He will never do it again!”

“We want to see them!”

MaShandu is assigned the duty of cutting off Muntukabani's balls. She now has her sharp knife, and as she holds it in her hands, she feels some unknown force take over her body. She remembers her late abusive husband and recalls that she had held a knife like this when she, with her two daughters, stabbed him to death. That happened many years ago, but right now, as she is holding the knife in her hands, she hungers again for the blood of a man. She calls forcibly for Muntukabani to come out, and when he doesn't, she breaks open the door and enters. This is not a difficult task since the only locking mechanism is a bent four-inch nail.

MaDuma and Belina are next to MaShundu as she charges to the corner of the room where Muntukabani is standing helplessly with a stick. The three women get to him at the same time and seize him.

“You filthy piece of shit!” Belina says, and hits him on his back with a brick she is carrying.

“Leave me alone!” Muntukabani does not tire of kicking as he is taken outside the gate of his homestead. By now there are more spectators. When he is outside the gates he says something that makes many people laugh, and yet more feel disgusted. “I want to go home to my mother!”

This sounds to MaShandu like saying I want to go and sleep with my mother or I want to have sex with a dog in front of her. She throws him down violently and holds him with her knee. “Take off his trousers,
MaDuma! Faster!” MaShandu's eyes have become frighteningly red. She does her job so sharply and neatly that it is only after she has finished that she thinks about the horror of holding a man's private parts.

Muntukabani listens for the pain but does not feel it. He is beginning to think that maybe they did not cut him when the agony attacks him with so strong a force that the scream he makes is more of a cry. It looks as if the world has suddenly become dimmer and seems to be upside down.

MaShandu is breathing noisily as she watches the blood ooze out of Muntukabani. The other women are shouting as the man writhes in pain.

“Yes! So that all the men will know how we are when we have administered an enema!”

“Well done. MaShandu, you have made him an in-between. He is neither man nor woman now.”

“I think MaShandu should keep them because she cut him and did it very well at that. Shaka would have offered her a herd of cattle as a reward for her bravery.”

“Yes! Let's reward her with them.”

It is about half past two in the afternoon when MaDuma finally arrives home. She has a mixture of feelings she cannot describe and is sure that she has never felt like this before. She tells her husband about the events of the day and he responds that he has already heard. Hearing of someone's testicles being removed frightens Priest so much that he holds his own protectively whenever he thinks about it. But the fact that Muntukabani was having sex with a dog troubles him even more.

“Imagine if she got pregnant,” he says fifteen minutes later.

“Who?” MaDuma asks, puzzled.

“The dog.”

“She would have to find the father and tell him,” MaDuma tries to say it as a joke but there is no humour in her.