Page 7 of Life After Death


  She knocked at No. 10. There was no response. She tried the door. It was locked. She keyed in the key. The door opened. There were a few chairs round a wood table in the lounge. The floor was neatly swept in spite of that it was aged. She proceeded straight to the passage. All the doors were open.

  She got into the bedroom and sat on a double bed. It felt so new on her skin. She began to go through the directory. She found what she wanted and it was Trishma. A male voice answered at the other end. She asked to speak to Kathy.

  She came on the phone. She was told it was Natasha and her flat was occupied. Kathy was glad. She promised to turn up later on the day to see if Natasha was well provided for. That suited Natasha and she said she would be waiting all day. Kathy thanked her and told her she was now beginning to think.

  At dusk Kathy turned up at Teddy.

  Natasha had now the opportunity to find answers to all the questions she hadn’t been able to ask on the previous day.

  ‘Kathy, you can’t just give me this place. Tell me, what exactly you want?’

  Kathy replied, ‘I repeat, nothing. I’m lying: I want to see you’re well provided for.’

  ‘That’s a shallow answer, and you know it.’

  ‘Whatever you want to think… Is there anything else I can do for you today?’

  ‘No, but remember this. Whether, you’re genuine or cheating, I will be praying for you all the time. I will pray that, now and forever, God blesses you.’

  Teardrops fell out of her eyes.

  ‘That’s nice of you. But don’t you begin to talk about that. I’m only a woman with children and a husband. My heart breaks when you talk to me like that.’

  Kathy rose and walked off to the kitchen. ‘Can we make ourselves some coffee, dear?’ She plugged on the electric jug. Natasha followed her to the kitchen and sat on a chair.

  ‘I’m sorry; Kathy, but I don’t really know you. Are you married? And God, you’re always boasting of your children. How many are they?’

  ‘A bunch of them my dear Natasha: three. If they were in here, one of them would be bathing in the kitchen sink. The other one would be spilling water on the floor. The third one would be scalding himself with hot water. I really don’t know what to do with them.’

  ‘And what do you do for a living?’

  ‘I’m an environmental reporter and a damn good one too.’

  ‘See, I told you you’re always boasting.’

  Despite the joke, Natasha could hear her blood pumping to the ears. ‘There is only one paper here. I guess you work at the Truth.’

  ‘You’re right, I work at the Truth.’

  ‘You know Sipeyiye?’

  ‘Yeah, the Editor.’ And then, ‘Why should you scowl like that? Anything the matter?’

  ‘Nothing Kathy, it’s just I know him as well.’

  ‘It’s all right. I shall not ask where and how you have known him. Some other people have accused me of knowing too much already, you understand?’

  Despite herself, Natasha managed to laugh.

  ‘I didn’t say, Kathy. Oh, my, you know you’re never friendly. Come on, tell me of this monster, Sipeyiye. When did they make him the Editor?’

  ‘He has been there for a year now. And he thinks that’s all that matters in the world.’

  ‘Of course, I know him. He’s very rough. Likes rough talk and crude humour?’

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Yeah, and where’s he staying now?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I’m told he has a flat in town. They want to throw him out because he doesn’t always pay his bills in time. I talked to him on this other day. He said he doesn’t mind because he will be moving into a double storey in Khumalo soon.’

  The two women were deeply engrossed in their conversation. The kettle began to sing.

  Chapter 27

  Natasha began to lose hope that she would ever find a job. Kathy came to see her as much as she could. At times they went together into town, to the park and that helped her to unwind. Day after day, she read the classified adverts to no avail.

  Her money only lasted her a fortnight. Kathy helped her with money. She always tried to give it to her indirectly, but Natasha was by now getting a little embarrassed. She began to avoid her as much as she could.

  Natasha began to take solace in drinking. She drank the brew from cheap beer halls. On this day, she was already there when the Sun City opened at nine in the morning. Kathy had, for several days, tried to look Natasha up at her place but found her absent. Natasha had not mentioned to Kathy that was sometimes drank. Kathy was a motherly woman. Natasha was sure that Kathy wouldn’t approve of it.

  She noticed a few individuals casting knowing glances at her as she walked into the blasting music. She bought herself the brew and sat alone at a vacant table. Natasha had no problem with beer. She could drink for 24 hours straight. That was outside the norm of what was expected of women. The difference with other women was that she would always find her way back home.

  She gulped at her drink for about an hour. A couple of men came to speak to her. They always found it hard to believe she was a saint despite coming to this place. But she liked some of them too, in their dirty overalls, men who talked of an increasingly difficult life in Zimbabwe and their countless children without making sexual advances.

  In the afternoon, she carried two pints of lager to her flat. She hoped Kathy wouldn’t turn up. As she clambered up the stairs, she could feel her knees were weak and her body was pleasurably hot. That was what she loved about beer. She was going to lie down now and never wake up. To hell with the job, wasn’t life good just like this?

  The phone was wailing as she entered. She rushed to it.

  It was the human resource manager at one of the branches of Old Mutual. He wanted to know if she could turn up for an interview.

  Natasha asked him, ‘Which Interview?’

  ‘We’re phoning in connection with the CV you left with us. We’re glad to announce you’re one of the candidates that we’ll be interviewing tomorrow.’

  Natasha came short of saying she had never left a CV at Old Mutual.’ She remembered in turn that she had had one too many.

  ‘Thank you so much. I will turn up tomorrow.’

  As the words sang into her heard, she tried to recall the day she had left a CV at Old Mutual. She couldn’t recall the day. She couldn’t recall ever giving anybody her number either. She toyed with the idea of phoning back and asking them if they had phoned the right person. She decided that that would the dumbest thing to do when you’re looking for a job.

  She immediately took control and forgot about drunk. She washed the reek of alcohol off her single dress. After that she put it on the line on the veranda. She polished her shoes until they were glossy.

  Essential chores done, Natasha lay on the bed in her bra and panties and tried to think. She woke up at sundown. She was now convinced she had never sent a CV to Old Mutual.

  ‘God, let your wish be fulfilled. I don’t pray for a job. There are many women without jobs than those with and life has gone on. There are thousands of people without a roof over their head. I have a place to lay my head, and I don’t even know where it came from. If I deserve it, I know I will get the job.’

  She thought of phoning Kathy. That didn’t appear very intelligent. She dreaded having to explain if things didn’t go very well for her next day.

  Then the interview came.

  Nobody spoke to anyone. Everybody thought the other might get the job ahead of them if they shared ideas. At the front there was a young woman of about twenty-five. She had a mop of hair on her forehead. She was inappropriately dressed in soft-spandex blend fleeces. Men would find it difficult though to keep their eyes from the mesh lace bust. She clutched at her envelope and looked intently at the wall.

  The girl in the middle was white. This one would be using her colour to push through. She was huge with well-defined cheek bones. She had on a sling back on her feet with points but no d
etails. Her jacket had horizontal Satin stripes. The sleeveless skirt featured a scoop neck. If Natasha had wanted to talk she would have talked to this one.

  Natasha realized that all that they talk about in books did not always work. Just go for an interview and hear what they ask. After all the questions they ask in South Africa are different from here.

  A smartly-dressed woman came to the door to announce. ‘Can Elizabeth Cook come in?’

  The while girl smiled broadly. She paced gracefully towards the room leaving a trail of Cologne in the air. She came out fifteen minutes later, not smiling and in quick angry strides. Natasha watched her disappearing at the end of the passage and hoped she wouldn’t come out like that.

  Next was a girl called Carol. This girl was not so sure of herself. She clutched at her envelope nervously. Natasha’s guess was that this was her first interview. She didn’t come out in fifteen minutes. Natasha began to fear they might have given her a job already. She began to wonder if she shouldn’t actually peer in and see what was happening.

  ‘Natasha. Natasha Suma,’ the smartly- dressed woman called out Carol was leaving.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Natasha. ‘It’s Chuma, actually.’ The woman smiled. She tried it again and came with another name. Natasha corrected her. When she came up with Tahoma Natasha gave in and said that was right.

  Three men and another woman sat behind an informal pewter table. Natasha was ushered into an empty seat. She remembered to shake hands before she sat down. After that she sat down in the plum chair. The table had a distressed finish and twisted frame design. Natasha joined her hands together and entwined her fingers into each other. She waited for her first question.

  ‘Your surname is so difficult to pronounce.’ The woman at the table laughed. Which language is this?’

  ‘Zulu, Ndau, and Ndebele I guess all that is correct.’

  ‘You have never cared to know who you’re?’

  Natasha’s voice turned serious. ‘I did in many ways. But I haven’t really been bothered about tribes. I guess that is correct too, because knowing yourself goes beyond tribes. As it is now, knowing that I’m a crossbreed of Ndebele, Zulu and Ndau is enough.’

  ‘Good, tell us about yourself,’ asked the first man. The woman who had asked her a question was scribbling something in her book.

  The name, they already know. That will be redundant. ‘I’m the first child in a family of three. I grew up in a…’ Rural, she debated? That sounded rather primitive. She thought quickly. ‘I grew up in a country home. I attended my junior school at Tuzuka.’ Tuzuka was nasal and it sounded uptown enough.

  ‘I did my high school at Tuzuka High.’ Most people she knew would have said Secondary School. ‘I got a sponsorship to study accounts in Jo’burg where I later worked for a major bank. I had to come back and attend to my mother who was ill here.’ She had skipped a lot of detail on dates and numbers. She hoped they would not ask her how many months she had worked at the bank and how many years she had been sitting at home. ‘In short that is me,’ she added.

  She toyed with the tips of her fingers.

  ‘If you had a choice, you will return to South Africa?’

  ‘I used to have that idea. But now that I have come here, I now appreciate a lot about my home. To put it in other words, I’m home-bound.’

  ‘That says a lot,’ chirped in the other man. ‘You must be very close to your mother?’

  Natasha digested this one quickly. She did not wish to invite sympathy by openly declaring that she had had some difficult time and her mother was now late.

  She tried something mild. ‘I guess you’re right. We all get to be very close in times of pain, and discover a lot about each other that we didn’t realize in separate lives. She’s a great woman and my hero, you’re right.’

  ‘And to take you back a little, what exactly were you doing at the bank?’

  Natasha consulted her university notes. She hadn’t really done anything.

  ‘I prepared budgets. I was also the responsible user of the system we were using and I reported to the Finance Manager.’

  ‘You must have been a great loss to the bank then?’

  ‘Probably, but I’m not the only person who was using the bank’s ICT system. There were many others who were good at it as well.’

  ‘Ok, Natasha say we offer you a vacancy here, how much money would you want?’

  She wasn’t supposed to say something too high. Of course every company is conservative. She wasn’t supposed to say something too low either. That would make her appear too desperate.

  ‘I am looking at two thousand dollars a month.’ She said without hesitation. Accountants are not allowed to fidget with figures. They can either take it or leave it.

  ‘And the benefits?’

  ‘A car, pension, a house and medical coverage.’

  ‘Thank you, Ms Natasha,’ the woman said. ‘Can we reach you in three days?’ She was quick to add. ‘Don’t contact us, we’ll contact you.’

  Chapter 28

  She had stayed at the apartment for a month. The postman began to know her. She was waiting for him as he put his bike against the wall and came about with a bunch of letters. He didn’t put anything in letter box 10. And despite that Natasha was standing right beside him as he muttered and dropped letters in the letterboxes, when he peered over his shoulder as he drove away he actually saw the same woman opening letter box 10.

  ‘You’re the unbelieving Thomas Ms,’ he called.

  ‘And you’re an unfaithful messenger,’ she called. ‘Where’s my letter?’

  The next day, the postman saw her hiding behind the stairways. ‘I have eyes like a hawk, Lady Thomas.’

  ‘Don’t you continue calling me that, you short man.’ He was indeed short.

  ‘I might be short, but I tell you what, I brought your letter,’ he announced.

  The letter was immediately swept from his hand. Then he had to watch the woman helpless with joy.

  ‘Oh Ms if you don’t know what to do, hug me.’ The short man stretched his hands.

  ‘I would have tried, short man, if you were taller.’ Natasha shouted back at him.

  Natasha climbed quickly up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. She called when she was on top. ‘And don’t forget to come for tea tomorrow.’ A friendly gesture...

  ‘I will be right here at the same time. Instead of hiding behind stairs, prepare me some good tea. This bike works on tea.’

  Natasha dialled Kathy straightaway.

  ‘Kathy, I’m so happy. I found a job.’

  ‘That’s beautiful. I’ve known you would get a job. Where’s this, and what’s the job title?’

  ‘Accountant, Old Mutual.’

  ‘Wonderful. Can I come over right there?’

  ‘Of course, dear Kathy. Come let’s celebrate.’

  Kathy turned up in half an hour.

  ‘I never applied for Old Mutual,’ Natasha burst as Kathy walked in.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I’m confused. Confused and happy.’

  Chapter 29

  Natasha was home sick. On her first pay out, she was already trying to find an excuse to go back home. But at the end of the month, she realized she had so many things to do that she couldn’t even spare a hundred dollars to go home.

  By payday, Natasha had a credit account at Myles. She felt she was obliged to move out of the flat. When the month was over, she wrote a cheque to Kathy. When she presented it, Kathy said she was never going to deposit it. And she never did.

  A week after payday Natasha moved out of Teddy Court. She didn’t have much, but she had now managed to tear her yellow dress into a mop.

  She wasn’t feeling very bad about it. She spoiled herself at Myles.

  She moved into a flat at Ascot. Suitable for a single lady, ran the advert in the Truth. When she got there, she realized the place could accommodate three people even. The room was empty, spacious and airy. She was able to get a bed on her new
ly-opened account at Myles.

  Chapter 30

  The retreat at the Riverside Hotel was most welcome. It was a break from the monotonous work. Natasha looked forward to this grand social gathering. She’d also do with a new wardrobe. Three dresses for the two days. She picked a sheer layered dress from a place in the centre of town. At Collection Prive, she bought herself a matching turquoise suede pair of sandals and a chiffon dress.

  Having slept for the whole day, she woke up to shower at four in the evening. She put on an embroidered chiffon dress with black and gold braided bodice. She touched her lips with a faint margin of lip Lacquer. She had her hair styled with a chop of short unfinished edges. A dignified touch of messy. It gave her a teenage illusion.

  She wasted time on a chilled watermelon cocktail. It got her into a warm expectant mood.

  There was a knock at the door. A man in uniform was the door when she opened it..

  ‘Ms Natasha.’ He grimaced at a paper. ‘I’m supposed to drive you to Riverside Hotel.’

  ‘I’m finished actually. I don’t suppose we have met before. Who sent you here?’

  ‘I don’t know the name of the man.’ He stomped on his boots impatiently. ‘It will be very inconsiderate of you to send me away though. He has already paid.’ A pleading scowl already.

  ‘That’s fine.’ So considerate of Old Mutual to send her a car. A car for everybody. How many cars, and surprises? Twenty-five, plus…

  ‘You’ve got luggage?’ he asked.

  ‘A small monarch.’ She pulled the door open. He trudged in.

  ‘Sit down. Let me take it.’

  When she came back, he was standing. He relieved her of the monarch.

  There was a lone car in the parking bay. Dimly lit by the streetlight, the car was a soft glow on a light day. The driver hustled ahead to place her bag on its tail fish in time to hold the door as she approached. She settled in the back seat. The Hyundai supported her spinally. She stretched her legs onto the roomy space. A touch of light on them, they were round and lustrous. She reached for her fluffy brown bag next to her. She wanted to phone… whoever it was that had organized this transport. Some women were too beautiful to be sent for and driven unaccompanied on a night like this. How many people could resist her? If this man wasn’t a saint, he would surely be sitting here at the back with me by now, she was thinking.

 
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