Nadine Gordimer - No Time Like the Present

— Facebook, Twitter — enough enough! — what they need is somewhere to live, what about shortage of beds and bathrooms. — Lesego in Nelson Mandela dashiki turns to Professor Neilson in his form of academic dress, impeccable suit-and-tie, everyone has a constitutional right to traditional attire, with official uncertainty about veiled Muslim girls in school. — Three-ninety-nine million the university’s asked for from ‘Tertiary’. The man won’t be in his ministry after April twenty-two, he won’t be there to see we do get it.—

Overture to that day of election is deafening against everything else even if he reminds himself he will not meet what comes after. The Secretary General of the Party — His and Jabu’s, the Mkizes’—says of the brain drain, professionals follow opportunities as a result of the country being part of the integrated global economy.

Nothing to do with the prospect that the new President at the crest of fervour for the man of the people, will be a President with seventy-two charges of fraud and corruption against him?

She’s uncovered that 20 per cent of the people living in the Methodist Church and the pavement dormitory are not refugees from Zimbabwe or any other country but are destitute South Africans, thrust finger down the open mouth.

Hasn’t Zuma’s corruption case caught the delay wind.

— There have been calls for a review of the Constitutional Court decisions. — Lifting not his machine-gun song but the weapon of Christian values he accuses the judges of ‘behaving as if they were almost close to God’. And in the same cycle of this country the National Union of Metal Workers is calling for the nationalisation of a mining company owned by Struggle veteran Tokyo Sexwale and Patrick Patrice Motsepe; black, two of the wealthiest men in the country. Brothers betraying the egalitarian ideals of the ANC? South Africa — mixed economy — is still largely a capitalist society — if only one in which laws preventing the emergence of a black entrepreneurial class have been abolished.

A voice from under the bonnet. — You can’t attack white fat cats without pointing at black as well. Double standard. — The friend of Peter Mkize joining the Suburb comrades to give advice about the faults of acceleration in Blessing’s car, is one of those who are members both of the ANC and the SACP. — We won’t exempt class betrayal by brothers profiting on capitalist enterprise.—

Peter can place him. No offence possible between them, no contradiction in the policy of the ANC alliance. — Who’s arguing about that, we’re equal now whether exploiting or exploited, isn’t it, aih , sinning or sinned against, all got the vote. The workers have the same boss if he’s black like us or white like Stevie.—

— Ja, we’ve heard it all — (whether he means: even down in the engine’s belly)— Eish man, we know, tarara black capitalists generate new wealth the white capitalists tell us, how’s it go, they make job opportunities, they have to pay taxes that increase money for social grants poor women get something to feed their kids—

Isa and Jabu coming out with coffee and a tray of mugs; Jabu is there with the figures. — Inequality, it’s increased more than fourteen per cent, that’s since two years after the first all-race election (as if prompted the horn blurts from inside the car’s engine where Peter’s friend must have touched a wrong part) — alarm bells, you see it in the service delivery protests. At the Justice Centre we have reports, political connections work in favour of prominent ANC members winning contracts for upgrading township water supply, electricity, over tenders of firms lower priced, better qualified. We’ve seen houses where the roof’s blown off in the first storm after tenants moved in. People rewarded with tenders are making millions. There’s the risk, street protests will lead to black class conflict, Zuma’s going to have his hands full. You can forget about xenophobia.—

Always he finds himself curiously in the same relation to her as are other people while she is speaking from a professional perspective. Instead of that indefinable identity called wife. Other women are desirable, that’s the basis of man-woman, but there’s no woman other than she who could have been, could be the identity of all he has found in her. He’s in recognition.

Jake — That’s why the big man has to make sure the hands of support are well greased!—

Is it a jolt back to personal reality or a diversion…Gary Elias’s school. Another ‘incident’. One of the matric class who was involved in the initiation affair apparently not directly enough to be named then, has lined up senior boys on a grandstand for what he called ‘haircut inspection’. He swore at a boy about his unacceptable haircut, kicked him in the chest, thrust fallen to the ground.

When he comes home from an after-hours meeting at the university she is with Gary Elias sitting close, on the terrace. Wethu is there; she groans a soft accompaniment while mother and son tell what happened.

— Must have been yesterday, we only knew today, the headmaster didn’t call us to the hall he came to our class, every class, first we didn’t have a clue what it was about.—

So their boy didn’t see.

She explains — The football team had been taken to play in a match at another school. — Gary Elias has been spared violence, even the corrupting spectacle of it, not on TV.

— We won, six-three, easy.—

— Blessing called while she was driving the boys home from school today, the line kept breaking…I’d left the Centre, was here at the time she dropped Gary.—

They shared relief each can confirm unspoken, Gary is not frightened; in fact shows again sense of importance of one who is connected with the sensational at second-hand: he could have been in the school when it happened, it might have been experienced not only as he is conscious of being present at the battles of space monsters on television.

Julius Malema in the news channel switched on out of habit tonight. A clip from the twenty-ninth birthday party of the ANC youth leader, who has said the youth are ready to take up arms and kill for Zuma, is with one of the successful businessmen and the premier of the province where the birthday boy was born.

Nice shot of political connection between rebellious youth and new capitalist. But doesn’t say this to her, doesn’t belong in their present moment.

He and Peter Mkize go together to the headmaster of the school next morning. Not along with the usual transport to school shared by Mkizes and Reeds; they agree it’s better not to add to the impact on their boys by showing how disruptive the ‘incident’ is of reassuring routine. They’ll go later without the sons knowing. He’s called the faculty to arrange for someone to take his class in the laboratory, Peter waves away any need to explain late arrival at his firm.

The headmaster can’t refuse to see parents but the secretary asks, do they have an appointment.

If the man is unable to be prepared for dangerous bullying in his school he hardly qualifies for the formalities. The fathers will sit it out until the headmaster returns to his office from whatever he is about. There is a whispered consultation behind computers and a young woman is sent, evidently to summon him. Her ankle twists on a stalk-heel shoe and is embarrassedly righted, as she passes. The office staff must have been told to say the headmaster is unavailable. — Doesn’t want the press to get hold of this. — Peter is accustomed to waiting, it’s the timetable of the blacks’ apartheid past, when he was a youngster.

But Mr Meyer-Wells (good mixture of origins in that name) arrives in full stride. Smiles as if they are people he’s called upon. He’s recognised: two father-friends from one of those new suburbs where black and white live as neighbours. — The son of Mr Mkize, good to see you. (One of the few black lads, the school should be able to attract more.) Professor Reed — it’s been too long! Gary Elias is doing well, and going to be one of our sports stars — (A coloured, actually the school has more of those, along with the Indian intake.)