Zakes Mda - Ways of Dying

The owner of the bus was quite happy to hire the bus out to the school, but he said, ‘The city is very far away. It takes one whole day and one whole night to get there. My bus is very old, but it will manage the journey. I must take it to the garage first so that they service it properly.’ This meant that those people who depended on the bus to go to town would not be able to go until the bus came back from the city. However, a lot of people went to town on horseback.

When Toloki got home he told his parents about the death of his schoolmate, and of how he was sent with boys who were much older than him to town to speak with the owner of the bus. The pupil who died was a member of the school choir, like both Toloki and Noria, and so the school choir was going to sing at the funeral. Would his parents allow him to go?

‘No, you can’t go.’

‘Please, father!’

‘You are too young.’

‘But Noria is going, and she is three years younger than me.’

‘Noria has more brains in her little finger than you have in your whole body.’

‘Father of Toloki, that was not a nice thing to say to your son. And it is wrong not to allow him to go when all the other children of the school are going.’

‘Who are you, Mother of Toloki, to teach me how to bring up my children?’

‘But, Father of Toloki. .’

‘You know I don’t argue with women, Mother of Toloki. If you want to be the man of the house, take these pants and wear them. Can’t you see that this child of yours is so stupid that he will get lost in the city?’

At the end of it all, Toloki’s mother was crying, Jwara was staring blankly at the figurines in his workshop, and Toloki did not go to the city. Noria went though, and in addition to the provisions of a whole chicken and steamed bread that her mother prepared for her, Jwara bought her a quantity of sweets and chocolate. Toloki’s mother fumed, ‘You did not allow your own son to go, but you are not ashamed to spend all your money on that stuck-up bitch Noria!’

We got the whole story of what happened in the city from the Nurse. The choir from our village sang at the night vigil. The principal himself was the conductor. Under his baton, the choir had that very year won a trophy in the district school choir competitions. At the funeral of their schoolmate, the voices of those children in the tent where the vigil was held were even more dulcet than they were when they won the competition. Nobody knew of them, as they were from a faraway village no one had heard of. People of the city were asking, ‘Who are these children who sing like angels?’ After the song, a relative of the deceased made a speech and explained that these beautiful children, with such melodic voices and faded gymdresses with patches all over, came from a village where the mother of the deceased had been born. The poor child had been sent there to acquire better education because the children of the city did not want to learn, but preferred to run around the streets, sniffing glue and smoking dagga. But unfortunately God decided to call the poor child to his mansion, since a beautiful plate is never used for eating, but is only displayed to be admired. ‘In any case you will hear all the details of this child’s death from the Nurse at the funeral tomorrow,’ he added. ‘I merely wanted to tell you who these angels are.’

After this brief but much appreciated speech, a local choir took the stage and sang. But people did not seem to be interested in it. They wanted the village choir to come back and sing for them. In the meantime, Noria and her friend went outside the tent to get some fresh air.

‘You know, Noria, I fear something terrible is going to happen.’

‘Something terrible has already happened. We have come to bury our schoolmate.’

‘I feel we are going to be attacked. Some people don’t like our choir because it is doing well.’

‘How can you talk like that?’

‘There is nothing we can do about it, Noria. When one is called no one can prevent it. I am going to die laughing.’

While they were standing there laughing, for Noria took the whole thing as a joke, they heard an announcement from the tent that the village choir was going to take the stage again. They went inside the tent, joined the other choir members, and sang their hearts out. The people of the city were moved to tears. A man stood up and said, ‘I work for the radio station. I want to record this choir so that we can play its music in one of our choral music programmes. We shall surely go to the village to record this choir.’ It was at that moment that a man with a gun stood up and shouted, ‘You shall record them in their graves!’ People screamed and threw themselves on the floor. The man opened fire and Noria’s friend was hit in the chest. She died laughing.

It was at her funeral that Toloki came face to face for the first time with the ritual of the Nurse. When the Nurse related in detail how this our little sister died, and her premonitions, and the last words she uttered, and her final laugh, he was no longer the principal that Toloki knew. He was completely transformed, and his voice was not the voice he used at school, where he was always angry and did not hesitate to make the cane work on the buttocks of naughty boys and girls. When he explained how the bullet had pierced the heart of the innocent girl, we wailed, ‘People of the city killed our daughter only because she had a beautiful voice.’ He modulated his voice, and it blended well with our wails. For Toloki, who at that time did not have an inkling that his future calling would be in the cemeteries of the very city where they killed this our daughter, it was a magic moment. It was only marred by his parents. When the Nurse spoke about the cruel people of the city who had murdered our child, Jwara whispered aloud to his wife, ‘You see why I refused when Toloki wanted to go there, Mother of Toloki?’

‘But that stuck-up bitch Noria went there, and you bought her things.’

‘Noria is not stupid and ugly like Toloki. She is a child of the gods.’

‘If Toloki is stupid and ugly, it is because he has taken after you.’

They were shouting at each other. We stopped them, and told them what a disgrace they were. How could they bring the quarrels of their household to the funeral of an innocent child who had died such a painful death? During all this storm, the Nurse never lost his cool for a moment. Noria stood next to Toloki in stunned silence. Later we said it was good that she did not cry, both for her dead friend, and for her name that was being bandied about at a public funeral, for that would have cast an even heavier blanket of gloom over the village. Toloki was so embarrassed that he wished the ground could open and swallow him, especially when suppressed guffaws were heard from the direction of his schoolmates.

In the afternoon Toloki walks to the taxi rank, which is on the other side of the downtown area, or what is called the central business district. The streets are empty, as all the stores are closed. He struts like a king, for today the whole city belongs to him. He owns the wide tarmac roads, the skyscrapers, the traffic lights, and the flowers on the sidewalks. That is what he loves most about this city. It is a garden city, with flowers and well-tended shrubs and bushes growing at every conceivable place. In all seasons, blossoms fill the air. Sometimes when he goes to a funeral he picks a flower or two, as long as no one sees him, as you are not supposed to pick the flowers in the city parks, gardens and sidewalks. And that gives him a great idea: he might as well pick a few flowers for Noria. Just to make doubly sure, he looks around, then picks a few zinnias. He would have preferred roses, but he would have had to cross two streets in the opposite direction to get roses. So, zinnias will do. At least they are long-stemmed, and come in different colours.