Way Back Home. Niq Mhlongo

and a quantity surveyor or project manager on your payroll. Where are you going to get that kind of money and the necessary skills if you don’t join us in this venture?” He opened his eyes wide. “We have already secured the personnel from PMB in France; that’s why we’re in partnership with them.”

      Ganyani remained quiet for a while, obviously trying to make some sense of Kima­thi’s speech. It seemed the words had passed through his ears without being digested properly, and had brought his mind into disorder. A faint sweat forced itself out on his forehead.

      “So, what are you saying, chief?” probed Sechaba.

      “I’ll have to think about it.” The words had fallen from Ganyani’s mouth before he was even conscious he had said them.

      “All we are saying is that you must never bite the hand that is trying to feed you, com,” said Kimathi, with exaggerated concern. “If you join us, we will supply all the skills necessary to do the job. Comrade Ludwe here has strongly recommended that we make a joint venture with a company from the Soutpansberg area to make our bid even stronger.” He cleared his throat, smiled and glanced at Ludwe. “As you are aware, he is the director-general of Public Works and has the final say in the matter. That is the reason we chose your company. We are fully aware that you are also interested in the tender, but you have to make a choice now. Otherwise, you will lose the bid to us. We want to empower your area through you, you know? We just want you on board, comrade.”

      Ganyani looked at Ludwe and smiled, exposing his gums. He folded his arms as if he was letting the words sink in. He was fully aware that Ludwe had an interest in the whole tender, but was not yet sure how. He had only seen the name of Ludwe’s niece, Sindi Yeni, on Kimathi’s company profile. She had been given an executive chairmanship, although Ganyani knew that she was only twenty years old and hadn’t even passed matric.

      Ganyani was not aware that Ludwe was to receive a ten per cent cut from the project. Sindi, meanwhile, would earn five hundred thousand a year, although with no medical aid, car or cellphone allowance. She would not receive any dividends from her shares, though she owned twenty per cent of the company according to the company papers registered with the Department of Trade and Industry.

      For the first time, Ludwe addressed Ganyani directly. “Our people need electricity as soon as possible,” he began in a concerned tone of voice, his eyes pleading with Ganyani. “You have built houses in Elim, so you know what our people’s burden is without electricity. Our power at Eskom is very bad, comrade.”

      Ganyani cast his eyes down briefly as a sign of respect to Ludwe. “I’m with you, comrade. We just had a black Christmas with no electricity at Elim,” he said.

      “Exactly my point,” Ludwe said. “This 2007 is already showing that our country is facing a power crunch, with the demand for electricity having begun to outstrip the supply.”

      “I fully agree.” Ganyani nodded, his Adam’s apple rising and falling.

      “There is a major shortage of electricity,” Ludwe said, with a look of deep contentment on his face. “That is why our government is ready to increase the supply of this cheaper electricity from coal.” He paused. “So far, as you know, only Eskom, which is government-owned, supplies this cheaper electricity. Billions of rand are set aside to construct new power stations to meet soaring demand.” He looked around the table.

      “I hear you, comrade.” Ganyani nodded again.

      “A proposal that sets out deliverable targets by teaming up leading companies like George’s TTZ, which has a great history and valuable connections in France, with local companies that can create jobs for our people will convince the department that you are the right people for the job. I can guarantee it. As for the department, we’ll not only give you the coal tender but also resources for infrastructure development, upgrading of railway lines and dams,” concluded Ludwe, searching everyone’s face for signs of mutual understanding.

      Ludwe looked at Ganyani’s amused expression and smiled. It was not because he felt there was anything worth smiling about; it was simply a tactic he always used to buy the confidence of people he wanted on his side.

      “Well, it seems I don’t have any option, do I?” said Ganyani, smiling as if it was obligatory to do so. “I guess the seven per cent that you are offering is final.”

      “We are afraid so, chief,” confirmed Kimathi. “Sometimes in life you have to surrender before you win.”

      Kimathi pulled at his jacket sleeve to look at the Rolex Yacht-Master II on his left wrist. It was twenty-five minutes before midnight, South African time. The Breitling on his right wrist showed New York time. According to him, it was necessary to wear both watches at all times so that he knew when to call his American business partners. He was definitely not showing off.

      “I have to go, comrades,” Kimathi said, yawning. “I haven’t slept properly since I came back from my New York trip a month ago.”

      “I’m playing golf in Kyalami tomorrow,” said Ludwe as he stood up. “So I should also get some rest.”

      “Oh, before I forget, here is your parcel,” said Kimathi, handing a large brown A4 envelope to Ludwe. “It’s exactly a hundred grand.”

      “Thank you very much,” said Ludwe, smiling as he took the envelope. “I’ll make sure that everything is in order.”

      Kimathi grabbed the keys to his X5 and wove his way out of the Park Hyatt bar. He ran his tongue around the inside of his cheek several times to remove pieces of food stuck there. Realising that the action was unsuccessful, he looked around before inserting his forefinger into the corner of his mouth. Having removed the food, he licked his finger and swallowed. In the lobby, he stopped and exchanged a few words with the receptionist, who was wearing large silver earrings. Pulling a wad of rolled-up banknotes out of his jacket pocket, he gave her a generous tip before he exited. The receptionist smiled broadly at the unexpected gift.

      “With that smile, baby, I’m sure you won’t sweat finding a rich man like me,” Kimathi said in a self-satisfied tone as he staggered towards the door like an overfed penguin.

      It had started to rain while Kimathi had been in the hotel, and the air outside smelt of wet soil, probably from the construction site for the Gautrain. Kimathi inhaled deeply, enjoying the moment, but as he did so, the streetlights went out and the whole neighbourhood was enveloped in darkness. He had completely forgotten the announcement he had heard on the radio earlier that day about the power being cut off from sometime around midnight for about four hours.

      Kimathi limped towards the parking lot. Although it was drizzling, he decided not to run to the car. His left leg had been weaker than the right ever since he had been injured while fighting UNITA rebels near the Kwanza River in Angola.

      As he pressed the “open” button on his car key, Kimathi heard an owl hoot from the top of a nearby tree. The sound scared the breath out of him. Since child­hood, Kimathi had hated owls, as they were regarded as an omen of witchcraft in his culture.

      As he started the car, his headlamps picked up the bird as it flew away. In his whisky-addled brain, he was sure that the owl’s eyes looked straight through him as he drove out of the parking lot.

      Chapter 9

      Driving south along Oxford Road, Kimathi put on his favourite CD by the Branford Marsalis Trio, The Beauty­ful Ones Are Not Yet Born. He had bought it to console himself after his divorce from Anele. Since their split, which had happened about two years earlier, Kimathi had started to get treatment for bipolar disorder. It was this condition that had led to their separation in the first place. During several manic episodes, he had spent huge amounts on his credit cards on gambling and prostitutes, which had made his wife suspicious. When he became delusional and started having sleeping problems, Anele asked him to consult a doctor. However, before he’d had a chance to get properly diagnosed Anele had found him naked in their bedroom with their domestic worker, Moliehi. This was the main reason for their divorce. Although Kimathi pretended to have forgotten Anele, the screen in his mind was filled