Ways of Dying (28 page)

He decided to leave a few men to guard the site, and drove back to his hotel in town. There he phoned his office in the city, and asked them to send a truck, along with many strong labourers, and many boxes. The next day the truck arrived. The figurines were loaded, and Nefolovhodwe and his men drove back to the city.

‘Now that I have given you your figurines, please tell your father to stop bothering me.'

‘I have said that I am not accepting them. What does my father want me to do with these ugly things?'

Noria calls Toloki aside, and whispers in his ear.

‘Toloki, the figurines are not ugly. Remember that my spirit is in them too. And we must never use that painful word – ugly.'

When Toloki turns to Nefolovhodwe again, his anger has dissipated. He tells him that he will accept the figurines.

‘I am glad that this Xesibe's daughter who used to give pleasure to all and sundry has talked sense into your head. Our elders say that we should build a kraal around the word of the deceased, because it is precious like cattle used to be. When your father says you must have the figurines, then you must have the figurines.'

Toloki says that although he will accept them, he does not know what he will do with them, or where he will put them. There are too many to fit into even a four-roomed township matchbox house, let alone their small shack.

‘I thought of that, ugly boy. I took the liberty of showing some of these figurines to two friends of mine. One is an art dealer, and the other the chair of a board of trustees that runs an art gallery and a museum.'

On examining the work, the art dealer said that the figurines looked quite kitschy, but added that kitsch was the ‘in' thing for collectors with taste this season. It was likely that this trend would continue for the next two years or so. The museum man disagreed. He said the work was folksy rather than kitsch. And folksy works were always in demand with trendy collectors. Although the two men disagreed on how to define Jwara's works, they both agreed that it had some value. The problem, of course, was that because there were so many works, they would not fetch a high price. But there might be individual pieces with special features that would make them stand apart. These would certainly fetch a higher price.

Neither Toloki nor Noria understand what Nefolovhodwe is talking about. Toloki wonders how a simple village carpenter with little or no education has managed to acquire this vast amount of knowledge. The information that the despicable man is dishing out to them, with utmost pomposity, is absolutely meaningless to them. All Toloki wants is for Nefolovhodwe to just disappear, and leave them playing with their little guests in peace.

‘Don't bother your simple heads if you don't understand the subtle disagreement between the two experts. I had to learn some of these things when I became a multi-millionaire. If you are interested in getting rid of these things in a manner that will profit you, I can call my friends first thing in the morning, and ask them to come for them. And, Toloki, don't forget to tell your father that I did all these things to help you, at great expense too. He must now stop haunting me.'

‘You know that I don't accept charity. I am going to pay you back every cent that you spent to bring these things to me.'

‘No! No! Please don't pay me back. I don't want to be haunted by Jwara again. Right now, it's going to take me a long time to bring my fleas to international performing standards again, after losing some of my best champions.'

The workers have finished packing the boxes next to the shack. They are so many that they occupy space that is many times bigger than the shack in height, breadth and length. Toloki opens one of the boxes, and the children are immediately fascinated by the figurines. Even those who were admiring Nefolovhodwe's limousine lose interest in it, and crowd around the boxes instead. Toloki and Noria take a few of the figurines out of the boxes and give them to the children. Some of the figurines are so strange and sinister-looking that they are afraid that they might scare the children. But to their surprise the children love them. They look at them and laugh.

Everyone is so engrossed in the figurines that no one notices Nefolovhodwe and his truck drive away. He honks the hooter of his limousine, which produces a few bars of a hymn that is an all-time favourite at funerals. But no one pays any attention. Everyone is absorbed in the figurines. The children are falling into such paroxysms of laughter that they roll around on the ground. Toloki is amazed to see that the figurines give pleasure to the children in the same way that Noria gave pleasure to the whole community back in the village.

Just before midnight, Toloki takes out his cakes and onions. When he bought them, he had not known that they were going to have so many visitors. He had thought that they would have a banquet in the oak dining room after taking a long walk in their garden – just the two of them. Now he has to share the cakes with the children. He gives each one a small piece, which simply melts in the mouths of the children like sacramental wafers. Noria tries the Swiss roll with green onion, and falls in love with the combination. Then she chews the tarragon leaves with Toloki, and enjoys them as well. The children are more concerned with the figurines, and their laughter remains unabated.

Toloki and Noria have still not worked out what to do with the figurines. They decide that they will keep one of the figurines in their shack, next to Toloki's roses, to remind themselves where they came from.

‘With the rest, Noria, perhaps we should sell them as Nefolovhodwe suggested, and take the money to Madimbhaza's dumping ground.'

‘Or we could let them stay here with us, and bring happiness and laughter to the children. We could build a big shack around them, and the children could come and laugh whenever they felt like it.'

At twelve midnight exactly, bells from all the churches in the city begin to ring. Hooters are blaring in all the streets. The settlement people burst into a cacophony: beating pots and pans and other utensils together, while shouting ‘Happe-e-e-e New Year!' The din is reminiscent of an off-tune steel band. At every street corner, tyres are burning.

Two hours after midnight, we are still shouting ‘Happe-e-ee!' We revel staggeringly past Noria's shack. All is still. There is no
movement. No light can be seen through the cracks of the door. The children have gone back to their homes. We look at the mountain of boxes that dwarfs the shack. We do not touch. We just look and marvel. Our children have told us about the monsters that make people happy. Maybe it is the drink, but it seems that we can see them through the boxes, shimmering like fool's gold. Not even the most habitual thieves among us lift a finger towards the boxes.

Somehow the shack seems to glow in the light of the moon, as if the plastic colours are fluorescent. Crickets and other insects of the night are attracted by the glow. They contribute their chirps to the general din of the settlement. Tyres are still burning. Tyres can burn for a very long time. The smell of burning rubber fills the air. But this time it is not mingled with the sickly stench of roasting human flesh. Just pure wholesome rubber.