“Okay baby, I have to dash now. You know I love you right?” He says as he kisses my forehead and rushes to the bathroom. I follow him. I watch him as he takes a quick shower and I feel hate boil inside me. I think he notices…
“You don’t have to cry baby; you know I’ll always come back for you,” he says as he steps out of the shower.
I ask; “What’s my name?”
“Sthandwa Sam, what silly question is that?”
Four years! Its been four years and he still doesn’t know my name! This is all I’ll ever be too him, a booty call. He only calls when he’s around Durban and bored. He is treating me like some prostitute. After the night we had I was starting to feel sorry for him but now…
“I love you big time” he says and rushes out the door.
He deserves everything that’s coming to him.
I have been nothing but loyal to this man since we met four years ago. I was in high school doing my matric and he was still a struggling artist. We met at the workshop shopping center. I was visiting with my school and he was selling his CD there. My friends laughed at me for giving a ‘loser’ my numbers. He was labelled loser because of selling CDs on the street. Many envy me today because I’m dating a famous kwaito star; even though I am never even mentioned in his interviews. I moved to Durban for my tertiary education just so I can be close to him. He was my first, my one and only and even when he got famous I was there for him. 18 months into the relationship he become the popular ‘Moskito’ and things changed. He got too big too quick and his pride reached sky level. So he made a lot of enemies really quick.
Last year my cousin told me this guy was using me. He confirmed what my friends have been telling me all along; he only calls me ‘baby’ or ‘sweety’ because he doesn’t know my real name. My cousin hates him – for reasons I don’t even want to know. He came to me with an idea to get rid of Moskito and make it look like its a rivalry gone wrong. That’s easy; he has been attacked so many times, even he is proud of it. Let’s see how proud he will be after today…
I have been helping my cousin and his ‘boss’, some musician who hired him to kill Moskito. My cousin is a hitman; he really is. I gave them details on Moskito’s whereabouts and his performance plans. Today at the workshop he will be performing – it is the annual Durban rocks concert – he makes sure he gets on stage at exactly 12 o’clock, some tradition he’s attempting to start. At 12 o’clock today, he will explode!!
I listened very carefully as he told me details of his ‘grand entrance’. He has bomb fireworks that make loud noises and fuzzy smoke and then he will appear in the midst of it all. Brilliant! My cousin organised homemade petrol bombs and hired a couple of homeless guys to do the drop off. My cousin is a professional, he made sure all bombs were planted around the stage so that no one other than Moskito gets hit.
It’s 11:30 and I’m anxious. I can see the guys with bombs next to the stage, and I’m trying not to stare but I need to know everything will go well. I’m starting to regret this – do I really want to kill him? He won’t die. I keep telling myself he won’t die; he will quickly run off the stage and run to me. He will come to me for comfort. He loves me. Why did i agree to do this again? Maybe its not too late to cancel this hit. I take my cellphone out of my jean pocket and call my cousin. He is on the other end of the park making sure a minimal crowd is next to the bombs.
No no no! That’s too early… Something is wrong, something is very wrong.
I am trying to call my cousin but he is not picking up. People start running around the park and I hear gunshots. What is going on?
I dial my cousin’s number again.
“Thembi. Run!!” he hangs up. Before I could even gather my thoughts a message comes through my phone.
“There is another gang, if not two, here to kill the dog and me. I’m shot. Go home, I’ll sort this out. Go”
What? I can’t leave him here, I need to help him. I forge my way through the crowd. I see a little beautiful girl looking lost. She is standing in the midst of all the madness. This feels like me. I’m lost and terrified. I quickly grab her hand and run out of the workshop. I hear another explosion from the distance. At least I saved this child, I don’t know if I could save myself.
“What’s your name, nana?” I ask her
“You’re a lucky child. Where is home?”
“I think you should run away,” the child says with a scary tone. She should be thinking of running away and not telling me this. What is this child?
She continues, “Run they are coming for you.”
An SMS comes through: “He’s dead. You’re next”
I need to run. I leave the little girl standing there and quickly board a taxi. Where do I go?
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