Going home for independence was good

Bame Piet | Thursday October 9, 2014 17:01

Others responded after I threatened to take them to the customary court. This is where justice is dispensed with the blink of an eye.

The journey was perfect, except for that woman with an army of kids who shared a seat with me. The three kids were troublesome – noisy, playing around, and eating throughout the trip. At some point, two of them fought over a bottle of juice spilling it on me in the process. Their mother didn’t bother to apologise to me, except issuing a warning to the kids.

For her part, she spoke loudly on her mobile phone, and slapping my lap, everytime she burst in laughter from her phone conversations. In an attempt to break the tension between us, I whispered to the woman enquiring what her destination was. She smiled back and candidly responded, “Nnyaa rra, gongwe o le DIS, ke eng o mpotsa gore ke ya kae” causing nearby passengers to look our direction.

I didn’t know that people no longer speak to strangers on suspicions that they are leDIS?

The kids continued their games. By the time we reached Mahalapye I was pissed off and finally swapped seats. My favourite white pants looked like I had just walked out of a hospital childrens’ ward.

Arriving home in the evening has always been my favourite undertaking and I did exactly that even for this trip. I don’t like those stares from the villagers. Others would stop you asking for P5 for the box, plus kwae. Then others will stop you for a fill up to buy a quart.

Hell! By the time you reach home, you have nothing to show your nieces. Indeed my nieces number has increased to 13. Not that I mind.

The ritual of update was performed and I also learned that indeed my younger brother has become a constant feature at home, following his battering by his “inlaws”.

He also joined us for tea and was very polite. After the family gathering he packed his staff and went to masimo to bolotsa dikgomo and goats.

He also asked me if I could offer him any piece job for the day.  Across his right cheek was a huge fresh scar and I concluded that such was the trail of what he had recently gone through.

Independence celebrations were perfect as Uncle Sporo was in high spirits. He slaughtered a goat, which we went together to fetch from his friend.

Apparently, this goat has been given accommodation at this friend’s home for over five years and every time Sporo enquired about its welfare, was told that phokoje has eaten its kids. “hei, ne ke sets eke lapile, pudi e e na le dingwaga tse six, mme ga ena le haele potsane e One, nyaa, go padile”

As we enjoyed tripe with two local boys who had come to help us, Sporo broke the silence on the stolen diesel and his encounter with security enforcement agents. I could sense from the beginning that the story was going to be a one-sided narration. 

My informants had tipped me that Sporo and three other guys stole a company front-loader after hours, and thereafter sucked fuel into five 20-litre plastic containers which were sold to a local businessman who owns tractors. The latter refused to pay the full amount threatening to report them to the police should they continue harassing him. Nonetheless, two of them would not take the nonsense and they assaulted the tractor owner, causing him serious injuries.

“What they told you isn’t what transpired. You know me - I have never been involved in any criminal activities. I only received keys from these guys claiming that they were going for a night-out. Two days later, when I was chilling in my house, I got two visitors who said that they were police officers. They were not friendly and forced me into their unmarked car, drove me to a police station where I spent two nights,” Sporo told me. He claimed that he was released after a visit to a magistrates’ court where he was asked his names, occupation and how he pleads to the charge.

“I was in the dark as to what was happening, and I asked the magistrate if it was okay to just let these guys put me in jail and ask me about pleadings. What pleadings? mme ke tsile go ba palela ka kgang”.

“So you never had any contact with the diesel or the three guys on the night of the theft?” I asked Sporo. No, I only saw two guys, armed with guns kante gatwe ke maDIS. They came to my house and arrested me, threatening to shoot me if I spoke any word”.

It was already in the afternoon and we were done with the goat when we decided to visit the village centre “to see people”.  Within the first 10 minutes of our walk,  I heard a whistle from a yard and there emerged a short man. He was all smiles, as he approached us. He offered to sell me two window frames. He looked familiar, and I recalled that he was a former classmate at primary school. He looked so much  older than his age. Sporo cut him short and ordered him back into his yard.

“Ga re battle dilo tsa bogodu monna!” As we walked he retorted “batho bake bone ba re golegang. Gongwe ke le DIS ha o mmona a riana”. Upon arrival at the village centre we found ‘happy people’. We joined the happiness and enjoyed independence. However, of the many men that we met, they asked Sporo “e vaile jang kgang ya gago? Hei, mathaka ba ba a re tshwenya.”