The Water Man's Daughter (15 page)

“Are we close?”

“Close?”

“To where we’re meeting Alvin?”

“Um, it shouldn’t be too long now.”

Claire says nothing more, just looks out the window, brooding and stiff.

The town centre falls behind and the car enters the grid of a new neighbourhood. Here there are brick houses between the shacks. The streets become a little wider and fewer people can be seen outside. At a main intersection there is one small store with “Bongani’s Spaza” written over the entrance. Sitting high above the building on a metal post is a billboard:

GCIN’AMANZI. WATER IS PRECIOUS. DON’T WASTE IT!

On the billboard, a little girl with pigtails braided tight to her head is sipping out of a glass. In the upper right-hand corner is a cartoon water tap.

Nomsulwa notices Claire staring at the billboard, grits her teeth, and gives a forced smile.

“Mmm-hmm. That’s Amanzi.”

“What does ‘gcin’amanzi’ mean?” The car picks up speed slightly, kicking more dust up around the windows. There are no stores now; the landscape becomes more desolate.

“Save water.” Nomsulwa doesn’t look at Claire as she says this. She turns left, pulls over, and gets out of the car.

Alvin is waiting. His van, swathed in Amanzi logos, idles, the air conditioning going strong. He is in a suit, khaki-coloured, with a white shirt and a black tie. His shoes are
impeccably clean, they repel dirt as he steps on the ground, sending the road dust up in clouds.

“Ms. Matthews, my name is Alvin. We spoke on the phone. It is nice to meet you.”

Alvin shakes Claire’s hand even though Nomsulwa got to his car first. Nomsulwa shrinks back, almost huddling in the shadow. She waits for them to begin their walk and then meanders behind. He begins by opening the door to the small shop kitty-corner to his parking space.

“This is the main office for Phiri. It’s not much to look at, but it does the trick for us. We hire local people to run the counter and complete the maintenance. Water creates many jobs for the people of the community.”

Alvin pauses and nods at the huge man behind the counter. The man steps aside to let Alvin and Claire pass. Nomsulwa stays near the door.

“There is a computer here that measures out water for the people of the township. They come in and we fill up the keys for their meters.”

“Do you find the computers are working well? My father worried about bringing such sophisticated computer systems to the townships.”

Alvin is taken aback by Claire’s question; Nomsulwa can see him catch himself as he tries to answer. Turns out neither of them had expected her to know anything at all about the water system. “Oh yes, it has not been a problem. The computers we use now are relatively simple. Though we hope that will change.” Alvin shifts gears back to the tour. “This
little office is the centre of the water system. Having the township residents go through this step helps us regulate their water intake. Also, having them pay teaches them a new level of respect for water conservation. Phiri used to be one of the worst offenders in water mismanagement. Now, they have one of the best conservation records in Soweto.”

“They use less water here than anywhere else?” Claire is impressed.

Nomsulwa stays silent. The teller is staring hard at her. She ignores him and continues listening to Alvin.

“Your father’s goal was to make sure that every household was hooked up to this water system.”

“Even though the company didn’t want to expand here.” Claire smiles at Nomsulwa, as if she’s adding this in for her benefit.

“Yes. Though it has proven to be quite advantageous, for the company and the township. It was a real stroke of genius to expand our water distribution system to the poorest areas of the city. We have, in part, your father to thank for that.”

Alvin pauses for a long time. Claire stands closer to him and waits for him to continue. She looks at him with a palpable hope for more.

“Let’s walk through the township, then, shall we? You can get a sense of what our water means to these people.”

A
CROSS FROM THE COMMUNITY CENTRE AND THE
park with hand-painted designs on squat concrete pillars, a crew of workmen is laying pipe on the main thoroughfare
of the township, despite how hard the ground must be to dig this time of year. Nomsulwa is surprised that the company has attempted to continue with their infrastructure development in spite of the rainy winter’s approach. She is also surprised that she didn’t hear about it beforehand. She has been too distracted to focus properly on her work.

“This pipe will feed clean water to all of the houses in this neighbourhood. Once it is laid, it will last for generations before repairs must be done. This way the township builds solid infrastructure to assist development.”

Nomsulwa falls back, hoping to lose Alvin’s speech to Claire in the wind between them. She wishes she were giving Claire her own tour, one that would fill her with the same anger Nomsulwa feels for the pipe-laying men from the city and this businessman who probably goes home to a Sandton mansion with gates and wired fences. Then she remembers that the girl with her is one of them, the product of the highest level of company management. How could she understand?

Alvin is enthusiastic when he speaks. His head jerks with each explanation, arms and hands moving in pointed, aggressive movements. Claire leans close to him. Nomsulwa trails them. On the far side of town, where the houses are a little larger and the shantytown can’t be seen from the road, Alvin stops abruptly at one and knocks on a wooden door. Claire lingers behind him. She doesn’t ask any questions but she turns to check in with Nomsulwa. Her face is open, her eyes friendly and clear. Nomsulwa suddenly feels flushed. She straightens and smiles, but the glance quickly passes and
Claire refocuses on Alvin. It feels like that was the first time she’s looked at Nomsulwa all day.

This house is separate from all the others. The yard is impeccably maintained, with bare patches that are as evenly swept as the grass is cut. A satellite dish hangs off the front, proudly displayed to passersby, and it cuts a small shadow on the roof of a shiny Volkswagen parked in the makeshift driveway. The door opens and Mama Ndaba stands there, grease still shining on her hands, apron clutched behind her back.

“Hello, Mr. Dadoo. Nice to see you. Won’t you come in?” And then to Nomsulwa, “Sawubona, sisi.” Mama Ndaba’s body hunches as she shuffles out of the way. She won’t meet Nomsulwa’s eyes. Nomsulwa stares straight at her pinched face, counting the wrinkles, waiting for some acknowledgement. Mama Ndaba gives her nothing, only escapes to the kitchen to brew tea. Nomsulwa had not known that this house was on the Amanzi payroll. But here they are, welcomed and served by this real township lady, no doubt for a handsome payment that she’ll receive when the guests of the water company have left.

Claire looks at Nomsulwa for a second time. “Do you know her?” she asks quietly.

“Yes, a little.”

Alvin merely shifts in his seat at this confession. Claire smiles. Nomsulwa looks away to the kitchen, waiting to see what will come next.

Mama Ndaba enters the main room with a tray of tea. The cloth lining the tray matches the curtains and the two
couches that the three guests sink into. There is a lot of white in the house, more than Nomsulwa remembers from other visits.
Must take a lot of water to keep this clean
, she thinks to herself. The tea is hot and tastes very thick; cream instead of milk. Alvin sips loudly and Claire sniffs at the lip of her cup, testing the temperature before trying. Mama Ndaba lowers herself very slowly into a chair.

Alvin puts his cup down, and lays his hand on Mama Ndaba’s lined palm.

“How are things, Mama?” Alvin emphasizes the word “Mama,” giving it a nasal quality.

“Well, thank you.”

“This is a very important guest of ours, the daughter of one of our most important friends. I told her you could tell her a little about how the water runs in your house.”

Badly
, Nomsulwa thinks to herself,
not at all, half the month
. Mama Ndaba only nods and then walks back to the kitchen. She returns with her metal key.

“The Amanzi gives me credit on my key. I use it to make the taps run for the month. If I want extra water I can buy it. But I don’t need to every month. Just when I have guests and there is more washing.”

Claire smiles at the woman. Mama Ndaba doesn’t look at anyone. Instead, she fiddles with the little key, letting it fall into her hand, flipping it over, feeling the smooth tab on the top and pushing it out to her fingers again.

“How were things before Amanzi?” Alvin prompts her.

This time Mama Ndaba pauses for a long time. She finally
sneaks a look at Nomsulwa. Nomsulwa steels herself for the answer. The two women eye each other warily, testing how far the other will go. Mama Ndaba gives in first.

“Before there was so little water. The pipes would break, spill their water onto the ground. It was a big waste.”

Nomsulwa stands up and walks out of the house, muttering something about needing some air.

Outside the air is dusty and comforting. The bleach smell from inside Mama Ndaba’s white house is out of Nomsulwa’s nose within minutes. She is furious, seething under the afternoon sun, but there is nowhere for her anger to go. For a fleeting moment she considers returning to the living room, confronting the Amanzi man and his township mouthpiece But there is no use. Alvin would have a smooth answer – a lie – for every point, and Claire, no matter how much time they spend together, is still the daughter of the water man. Nomsulwa reminds herself to be vigilant with the white girl. They have nothing in common. Remember that.

T
HE TOUR ENDS IN A GRAND CIRCLE, RIGHT BACK IN
front of the water office. The store is packed, as usual, and the big man eyes Nomsulwa a second time as she passes in front of the open door. Old women suck their teeth at Alvin and his guests. They throw their coins on the counter and hand over their metal keys.

“That is all I have to show you here, but you should feel free to visit our office in the city. We have much more information there.”

Sure we will
, Nomsulwa thinks.

“Your father spent a lot of time there, planning all of this for the people of South Africa.”

Damn, that did it. Claire’s almost on her tippy-toes.

“Really, Alvin, I would love that.”

Alvin nods to Claire and then Nomsulwa. He gets into his car and rolls down the window.

“You have my number.”

“Of course. I will call soon.”

Nomsulwa smiles so briefly at Alvin that the left side of her face falls before the right side has a chance to perk up.

Claire lets the bliss around her settle for a moment before she places a hand on Alvin’s window.

“Alvin. My dad’s case. I thought there’d be developments by now.”

Alvin is caught off guard at the sudden change in Claire’s attitude. He stumbles over the words. His hand shoots out, almost, Nomsulwa thinks, to attempt to roll up his window. Then he resigns himself to the question and looks directly at Claire. “I can’t help you, Claire. The police are your best option.”

“I met with them,” Claire presses. “They wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“I’ll make sure someone gets in touch with you.” Alvin says this on the fly. As he turns the key, his front wheel kicks dust into Claire’s face and she steps back into the centre of the road. Her shirt is smudged with dirt now and her face is changed, twisted, unrecognizable. She looks ugly angry.
Nomsulwa studies the ugliness and sees in it so much familiarity. Claire angry is easier to deal with than Claire sad or happy or confused.

Out of the corner of her eye Nomsulwa sees the man at the water counter excuse himself past the crowd and start towards her. He is larger without the counter to obscure his body, and though Nomsulwa would confront him on her own, with Claire there she is nervous. She takes Claire’s arm and leads her down the street. Claire stops, trying to head for the car, but the man cuts off their route. Nomsulwa guides Claire left, avoiding the man’s eyes, and they walk around the corner.

“Let’s walk for a little while longer.”

They keep moving. The man is still watching them, but his body is stuck just where he can still keep an eye on his storefront. When he is completely out of sight, Nomsulwa relaxes.

“Why was he following you?” Claire asks.

“We don’t get along.”

“Because …?” she presses.

“I work with the women.” Nomsulwa pauses, trying to figure out how to explain what she does. “I work with people here in Phiri, help them get enough electricity and water for the month. Sometimes that means convincing that man to give up water credits for a little less than he’d like to charge.”
Or bypassing him completely
, she thinks.

“You mean like a subsidy program? You do that as well as work for the police?”

“I don’t work for the police.” Claire looks very confused. “I should have explained. I am helping Zembe, looking after you, but in general I run a civil society organization. Here in Phiri.”

Claire seems wary but stays close, lets Nomsulwa keep holding her arm. They walk like that, both knowing that to pull away would be more awkward than staying where they are. “A civil society organization that does what?”

“Here, let me show you.”

She leads Claire out of the lok’shini and into the residential area. People are out on the streets here. They stop and stare at the white girl. Grandfathers with spittle on their lips tip their hats. Grandmothers huddled on their front steps wave wildly like schoolchildren. The order of things is turned upside down by Claire’s presence.

There is a standing tap in the corner of a cement yard up ahead, where the road peters out into gravel. A black iron fence cuts the space between the road and the old woman’s land. The tap is slender, arching over at the end. It is turned on. A white bucket sits underneath receiving a steady drip drip of water. Claire peers over the gate at the bucket.

“This is the way most people in the township get their water. They have a company-issued tap, it dribbles out water slowly, and when there is no more free water allotted, the tap shuts off.”