After Tears. Niq Mhlongo

“Ahhhh! It smells so gooooood! I feel like eating you like an apple.”

      Bunju smiled broadly, like a child who had just received an unexpected gift. She seemed to be pleased with Zero’s charm, although the sweat ran down his unwashed face like soft porridge boiling over the edge of my uncle’s blackened pot.

      “Thanks, but you’re so scarce these days,” she said. “You no longer phone or visit me.”

      “Ahhhhh, my Bunjubunju! You know that I still love you more than payday, but it’s this job. It doesn’t give me time to come and see you. I work from Monday to Sunday. There’s no holiday if you work for rich people like PP.”

      The conversation with Bunju stopped as Zero saw some potential commuters. Zero’s hand was immediately on the horn as he tried to attract more passengers. He pointed his finger skywards, signalling that he was going to the city, but no one was interested.

      “She’s the deliciousest of the deliciousest. Did you see her arse, Advo? She’s gifted with the reverse, isn’t she?” he said as soon as he was sure no one was interested in his taxi.

      “Who are you talking about?” I asked, resisting the urge to look at Bunju.

      Zero’s eyes darted from me to the rear-view mirror and back to the road. “Come on, man!” he said. “I’m talking about my Bunju. I saw you staring at her arse.” He smiled and looked into the rear-view mirror again. “They say you can look, but never touch!”

      “Yeah, it’s true. She can sue you for sexual harassment if you’re not careful nowadays,” I said to Zero.

      “But you see, Advo, these ladies nowadays have a way of challenging us men. You’ll be surprised at what we taxi drivers see in our taxis every day. Some of them don’t even bother to wear panties at all. Some of them wear revealing miniskirts just to challenge you, man. That’s why Avalon Cemetery is full, it’s because these ladies are living advertisements for Aids. I tell you, Advo.”

      Mama had warned me that Zero and PP had one thing in common and that I should keep away from them as much as possible. She told me that they were notorious for undressing every member of the female species that they saw with their eyes. According to her, they lived in the over-sexualised township world. In Zero and PP’s universe, Mama once told me, a man was a man according to the number of ladies he was dating.

      “You know what, Advo?” Zero whispered. “Bunju was once my meat and I used to chew her every day.”

      “And what happened between you two?”

      “No, I’m no longer interested in her and I don’t care what she does with her pussy now,” he said, looking at me.

      “But I think she’s perfect for you, man.”

      “Yeah, you’re right, she’s a perfect pain in the arse,” he responded uninterestedly.

      “What happened?”

      “She thinks that I’m her walking ATM. It’s as if I have to pay to have sex with her and, since I left her, she behaves like those motor mechanics that you see in the Midway scrapyards. Yeah, she’s always lying on her back for men to screw her for money. She’s a puff and pass, man. You can have her if you’re curious to know about what’s hiding under those panties, but I’m telling you now that those nice curves of hers are dangerous. She’s a social worker. Uyagayana. She gives. Don’t tell me that you don’t know about that?”

      “Of course I don’t know. I only came back to the township recently. I don’t know many people here.”

      “I think we should spend some time together at The White House this Saturday. You always have your nose buried in a book, Advo, it’s not healthy, my bra. You’ll go mad. I can hook you up with a nice mntwana.”

      “I didn’t know that it was that simple.”

      “Siriyasi, I’m telling you, Advo, there’s a minimum of five chicks for every dick in Soweto,” emphasised Zero.

      “Is that so?”

      “Siriyasi, Baba. Sure. I already have a new release, man. I got this new chick during a funeral some months back. When I saw her by the graveside that day, I knew she was going to be mine,” he said, touching his left breast tenderly to show his love.

      “Are you serious? But how did you get her by the graveside, man?” I found myself unable to resist asking him.

      Before he could answer, Zero beamed broadly and nodded his head. My question seemed to have excited him and he was smiling as if I had just caught him fondling Miss Universe’s breasts in his zozo.

      “That’s a good question, Advo. A good question indeed,” he repeated. “I always do my homework on the beautiful things that appeal to my heart. Even PP knows that he can’t compete with me when it comes to beautiful chicks.” He slapped his chest with his left hand. “PP knows that I’m the number one here in Msawawa and he comes second. I’m the real makoya charm. I have great taste in abomabhebeza and I always win them with ease. PP has poor taste when it comes to women. All of his chicks that I know of are shapeless like a two-litre bottle of cooldrink.”

      “Is that for sure?”

      “Siriyasi, man, I’m not lying to you, Advo.”

      I was tired of talking, but I had to keep going because of the free ride. Luckily I saw Zero’s face light up as he stopped the taxi at the red robots by Vista University’s Soweto campus. In the other lane was a green Jeep Cherokee and a beautiful young lady with an Afro was driving it. From the open sunroof and windows of the Jeep I could hear the jazz of Moses Molelekwa. Zero immediately wound down his window. He took his 5110 Nokia cellphone from the dashboard and whistled at the lady in the Jeep.

      “Hello, Ms Thing,” he said to her, smiling.

      The lady lowered the volume of her CD player and smiled back at Zero. She waved her hand at him lazily, but Zero had already misinterpreted the lady’s innocent smile as a sexual invitation and he smiled again, his mouth spreading from one big ear to the other.

      “Oh, my God, you’re so fucking hot,” he said, running his tongue over his lips, “did you bath in full-cream milk today?”

      The lady smiled at the compliment, but she still didn’t say anything. Instead she took a drag on the cigarette that she was smoking. Zero pointed at his cellphone as the lady looked at him.

      “Can we exchange numbers, mabhebeza? I promise I’ll call you tonight.”

      “Sorry, it’s a wrong number,” the lady said, trying to lighten her refusal with a smile. “Try next door.”

      “Why shouldn’t I try you, sweetheart? You’re the one that I want.”

      “Because I don’t think you have the equipment that I need.”

      “You’re missing out big time, mabhebeza. Don’t deprive yourself of the pleasure that I’ll give you.”

      The robots went green and, as the lady sped off, I glimpsed her personalised numberplate that read: KARABO GP.

      Zero tried to match the speed of the Jeep, but his taxi couldn’t keep up. Unfortunately for the lady in the Jeep, the robots were red again at the T-junction leading to Orlando power station. She was looking to her right, at a piece of ground where some shacks had been built, when Zero called to her. It was obvious that he was on the lady’s list of no, no, nos, the way she took her time to respond, but Zero wasn’t going to give up.

      “What’s your name, mabhebeza?”

      “Syphilis.”

      “Wow, that’s a very nice name. So where do you live, Phyllis?”

      I nearly laughed out loud when I realised that Zero hadn’t heard the lady correctly.

      “I live in Aids View.”

      “Ace View? Is that a new suburb I don’t