Chapter 2 — Chapter Two

Life continued to shower me with blessings in the years that followed. That's what happens when you work hard, behave in an honourable fashion and live up to your full potential. You become a beacon of hope for the people around you. You become, like me, wildly successful. Fifteen years after Ayanda stole my heart, I ran a thriving business in the heart of Johannesburg. My office was smack dab in the midst of the big city chaos – the cars, the smoke, the countless faces. I soaked it all up. My clients were among the wisest and most discerning people in the city, people who knew what they wanted and were happy to pay top dollar to get it. And I, of course, was happy to oblige.
My daily routine was what you would expect from a mogul. I woke up in my lavish apartment. If it had rained there might be a puddle in the middle of the bedroom floor, due to the artistic leaks in the roof. I would turn over on my old mattress – beds were so 1999 – and kiss my female companion awake. I had a way with the ladies. Something about my air of mystery and entrepreneurial spirit drove them crazy. I wouldn't call myself a chick magnet – but other people would.
On this particular day, however, I woke up alone. Sometimes a creative guy like me needs a little space to get his mojo back. I took a cold bath – I really needed to remember to talk to the landlord about that geyser – and walked across the room to shake Vusi awake. Yes, Vusi was still around. He was the only part of my old life that remained, the only person I could trust. I taught him everything I knew and shared my success – and my home – with him. That's what friends do. He hadn't changed much. He still had those thick glasses and now braces as well.
"Come on, Vusi, we're already late."
He grumbled, turned over and looked at the time on his phone. "Ag, Senzo, five more minutes."
I returned with a cup of cold water, which I dumped all over him. He jumped up, making me laugh. Even after all these years, he never saw it coming.
We arrived at our consulting room just in time to beat the morning rush. I suppose I should explain what I mean by "consulting room". Let me put it this way: people came to me with problems, and I made the problems go away. The biggest problem most of my clients had was what I like to call FEID Syndrome. That's Financial Excess and Intelligence Deficit, or as Vusi liked to say, money to burn and no clue how lighters work. That's where we came in. I was the match, Vusi was the flame and together we made magic happen. Just like old times.
Me and Vusi had come a long way since our school days. Maybe not in terms of education – we both got our matric but never bothered with varsity. But all those books I "borrowed" from the school library had paid off. We read and read and read, and practised all the big words until we could speak like professors. We used to sit in Vusi's house listening to the radio and copying all the different accents. The ability to switch seamlessly from tsotsi taal to upper crust English was essential in our line of work. We never knew what opportunities might come up, or who we'd have to be in order to make the best of them.
The consulting room had very specific decor. Skulls, beads, animal hides. There were also a couple of tortoise shells and a stuffed vulture for good measure. As soon as we had set up for the day, Vusi disappeared behind a thick black curtain and I put on my uniform – shades and a dreadlock wig – and took my spot on the reed mat on the floor.
About one minute before opening time, I started to rock back and forth and hum. It was delicate work, and I had to create exactly the right atmosphere. My consulting room was like a dentist's office. Everything people saw and heard was a little unnerving, but they went in anyway because they needed the good doctor to make the pain go away.
There was a soft rap on the door, and my first client walked in. I stopped humming long enough to welcome him in, take his money and offer him a seat on the mat. His expression told me he was intimidated, which was always a good sign.
"So you're Prophet Mazinga?"
"Yes indeed. What's your name, my son?" I asked in my best wise mage voice.
"Tshepo." He was dressed in an old tracksuit. Not exactly minting money, this one. "So is it true? Will you really make me hear the spirits talking?"
I carried on chanting a moment longer, then stopped suddenly and said, "Listen!"
Tshepo shut up and looked around him. I picked up the cup next to me and took a sip from it. I closed my eyes and let the spirit world take me. Or something.
"What is the name of your lover, Tshepo?"
He gulped. "It's...ah...Ayanda."
I spluttered, spilling the contents of the cup all over myself. The curtain behind Tshepo billowed slightly. Coincidence, I told myself, struggling to regain my composure. There were a lot of girls named Ayanda.
"What's wrong?" asked Tshepo.
I coughed. "Nothing. The spirits seem to be...confused. They're saying..." I started rocking and humming again.
Suddenly there was the sound of furtive whispers. I knew they came from behind the curtain, but Tshepo almost jumped out of his skin.
"Ayanda," the whispers called out. "Ayanda, Ayanda, A-yan-da..."
Tshepo let out an undignified shriek. "Oh my God! Oh my God! This is real!"
I raised a hand to silence him while the whispering continued.
"Ayanda... Ayanda will come back... if..."
Tshepo leapt to his feet. "If? If what?"
And then we all heard the unmistakeable sound of a cell phone ringing. I opened my eyes. Uh oh. The phone rang again. Tshepo looked at his phone. It was off. He glanced at my phone, beside me on the mat. It was also off. A muffled thud came from behind the curtain, and then a whispered "Shit!"
Tshepo turned around.
"My son, you must sit down and listen to what the spirits –"
It was too late. I'd lost him. Tshepo went to the curtain and pulled it aside. There, sitting on a stool and fumbling with his phone, was Vusi. He looked up, mortified. Tshepo whirled around to glare at me.
"What the hell is this?"
"This?" I laughed. "Ah. Yes. I can explain. You see, the spirits –"
"You're a fraud!" snapped Tshepo. "I want my money back."
"Why don't we sit down and talk this over – "
Tshepo held out his hand. "My money. Now!"
With a sigh I fished the cash out of my pocket and handed it over. Tshepo took it and left without a backward glance. I turned to Vusi.
He crumbled beneath the force of my withering stare. "I'm sorry! I thought it was on silent!"
"You thought?"
"Hey, everyone makes mistakes!"
Another day at the office. Like I said, wildly successful.

***

When I left the old neighbourhood, I had no intention of going back. There was no nostalgia, no missing the orphanage, no high school reunion. Vusi was different. He was always looking back, keeping tabs on our peers. He knew who was married with kids, who had turned out okay and who had been swallowed up by the hard life.
It was Vusi who told me that my old nemesis Jasper had made good, thanks to his father's connections. He was on the BEE track to fame and fortune, apparently. I seethed inside every time I imagined Jasper sitting in a fancy air-conditioned office. I may not have been top of my class, but Jasper made me look like a genius. How could he be out there living it up while I hustled on a daily basis? It just proved what I had always suspected – life was unfair.
Fortunately I never had to worry about crossing paths with Jasper again. High-powered corporate types weren't exactly my biggest clients. The only time I rubbed shoulders with such people was at the traffic lights.
Vusi and I had closed up shop to go do a little marketing. We stood at the traffic lights in our regular clothes, handing out flyers to pedestrians and waving them in the windows of passing cars. A silver Lexus pulled up and paused at the red light. The driver, some suit with manicured fingernails, was deep in conversation on his phone.
"I didn't say she refused. I said she didn't have a chance to say yes," he explained patiently. "That bloody waiter ruined the moment. But she will say yes. I got her a diamond so big she won't be able to lift her hand!"
I could tell by his tone that he was speaking to someone important. I walked up to the car window and held out a flyer. He ignored me.
"She'll come around." He laughed nervously. "You know how women are; she just needs some time to think. Talk to her friends. Maybe pray about it."
I rolled my eyes and wriggled the flyer in front of him. He continued to ignore me.
"Just a few more weeks... Yes, I understand, but...eh...."
Fed up with his rudeness, I shoved the flyer through the window, right in his face.
"What's your problem?" he snapped, acknowledging me for the first time. "Can't you see that I'm on the phone?"
"Sure thing, bra," I replied casually.
He snatched the flyer and carried on with his conversation. "Yes Chairman, I understand. I will make sure that it gets done. I promise."
What a stuck-up snob. These black diamonds got a little taste of the good life and thought they were better than everyone else. I shook my head and moved on to the next car.

***

Vusi and I were very different people. I guess we had always been that way. I was the brilliant mastermind and he was the reluctant sidekick. I was the one breaking the rules and he was the one trying to keep me from getting caught. Most of the time it worked.
Everything about his life was more stable than mine. He was raised by his grandmother, so he had family. From the first time we met I could tell the difference between him and the orphans. There was a kind of certainty with kids who grew up knowing who they were and where they came from, even if the situation was tough. They were solid, steady on their feet. Steadier than the rest of us, anyway.
I suppose that's why we connected so well. We balanced each other out. So while I was off chasing girls, searching for something I could never find, Vusi was almost married. Technically Zanele wasn't his wife – he couldn't afford the lobola yet – but they had been together so long they might as well be hitched.
Zanele wasn't a fan of our operation. She wasn't thrilled about our living arrangements either, but since she shared a tiny flat with three other girls, she was in no position to do anything about it.
"Baby, we need a plan," she said that night, as the three of us sat in our usual shebeen, drinking away our sorrows.
"We have a plan," said Vusi. "We're saving."
"Ja, like ten rand a month," said Zanele. "We'll be dead before we can get married! You need a real job. Both of you," she added, glancing in my direction.
I'd heard this speech a thousand times. Get a real job, Senzo, everyone told me. With what, the first-class degree I got from the University of Nowherestad? What Zanele meant was that I should be a sucker like her, slaving away in a blue collar job to line someone else's pockets, while I struggled to make ends meet for the rest of my life. No thanks. I had no intention of giving up my calling to become a car guard in a shopping centre.
"It's complicated, baby," said Vusi softly, but I could tell by the way he shifted in his seat that it was only a matter of time before he caved. What was it about long-term relationships that turned men into mush?
"What's so complicated about it?" Zanele clicked her tongue. "You remember how you were almost arrested last time? Is that what you want?"
"No, but..."
"But nothing. The guys at my office are hiring right now. You should apply."
I chuckled into my beer. "You want Vusi to be a cleaner? I don't think the uniform would suit him."
Zanele gave me the dirtiest look she could manage. "Don't be stupid. The security company is hiring." She turned her gaze on her boyfriend and put on a coaxing lovey-dovey voice. "It's a good job, my darling. The uniform is smart, all navy blue. And we'll be in the same building, we can see each other all the time..."
I watched Vusi's expression go from doubtful to intrigued. Damn, she was good.
"Just think about it," she whispered, and then excused herself to go and primp.
"Forget it," I told Vusi as soon as the vixen was out of earshot. "You don't want to be a security guard. We want to be rich, remember? That's the plan."
"We're not getting rich, Senzo."
Ah, Vusi. Always the pessimist. "Not yet, but these things take time."
He gave me a look. "You've been saying that for years. This Prophet Mazinga thing was supposed to be temporary, and we've been doing it for almost two years now. And the scam before that –"
"Ja, okay," I cut in irritably. "I get it. You want to ditch me and go play house with your wifey."
"I'm not ditching you. I just think we need to, you know...think about things."
I looked up to see that Zanele was on her way back. I wasn't in the mood for another lecture, so I got to my feet.
"And now?" asked Vusi. "Come on, don't be angry."
"I'm not angry." I drained my beer bottle and left the empty on the table. "I'm giving you lovebirds some private time."
I walked away before Zanele reached our table, and stopped to say bye to Big Mama. She was the woman who ran the shebeen and she was tougher than any of the guys in there. No one messed with Big Mama. Everyone respected her. If she liked you she could be the sweetest, warmest person in the world. I was one of the lucky few. In fact I was her favourite, and we had a bond that went way back.
"I'm leaving," I told her, leaning over the counter.
She looked up from polishing the counter. "Good. You drink too much, Senzo."
I smiled. "I drink less than Vusi."
"I don't worry about Vusi. I worry about you." She looked at me. "You're a smart boy. You should do something with your life."
It was strange, but I didn't mind the lecture that much when it came from Big Mama. She wasn't just being a pain like Zanele. Big Mama was looking out for me. She always had. I had lost count of the number of times she had stepped in to save me from getting my butt kicked in a drunken brawl, or given me great advice. She had worked hard to build a little empire for herself, so I knew her advice was worth taking. But me being me, I didn't always listen.
"Something like what, Big Mama?"
She shrugged her plump shoulders. "Use your brains, boy. That's why you have them."
I laughed. "Goodnight."
"And stay away from that girl, asseblief."
"Which girl?"
Big Mama just raised her eyebrows. I waved and moved towards the door.
"Hey, Senzo," said a familiar husky voice.
Ah. That girl. I had a history with the owner of that voice, the kind of history that involved a lot of steamy drunken nights followed by sober mornings filled with regret.
I turned around with a sigh. "Hi, Sweets."
Sweets was a working girl, and hot stuff by kasi standards – tight dress, high heels, too much make up. But now, several months after our fling, I couldn't remember what I'd seen in her.
"Shame, you look lonely," she cooed. "What's up?" Her mouth was smiling but her eyes were cold. They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and Sweets was proof.
"I'm fine," I told her. "I'm just going for a walk."
"You should be careful out there, hey. The streets aren't safe." She leaned close and whispered, "Not even for a prophet." Then she walked away, swinging her hips as if to show me what I was missing.
I shook my head. So far Sweets had kept her mouth shut about the scam, but I knew one day she'd find a way to use it against me. I turned away from her and stepped out into the night air. She was right; I was lonely. I always knew that Vusi would get tired of the wild life we led and want to settle down, but I didn't think it would be so soon. We weren't even thirty yet! The worst part was that he had a point. We had been running cons since high school and we were still broke. One way or another, we had to find a better way to make a living.

***

The next morning I went to work alone. Zanele had slept over, so I left her and Vusi and made my way to the consulting room. Everything was intact when I arrived, so clearly Tshepo hadn't bothered reporting us.
I had barely started setting up when I got a call from a prospective client. As soon as I hung up I called Vusi.
"I'm here, I'm here," he gasped, bursting into the room. "Why didn't you wake me up?"
"Man, I'm still traumatised from the last time I walked in on you and Zanele," I reminded him.
"Oh." He chuckled. "Ja."
"Why are you just standing there?" I asked, tugging my wig over my head. I brushed dust off the mat and sat down, then put on my glasses. "The client will be here any second!"
A knock on the door made us both jump.
Vusi dashed behind the curtain, then stuck out his head and whispered, "What's the case?"
"Standard Bring Back Lost Lover," I whispered back. I cleared my throat and called out in my gruff prophet voice, "Come in!"
A man entered. He was well-dressed, and the minute I saw him I knew he was going to be the professional highlight of the month.
I beamed at him. "Welcome, sir. Please take a seat."
He looked around as though he expected rats to come crawling out from the shadows. Reluctantly, he lowered himself onto the mat. It took him a few moments to find a comfortable position.
"Please relax," I told him, trying not to laugh. "Make yourself at home."
He grunted, then raised his head and looked at me. I realised he was the snob in the flashy car, the one who had been so rude to me at the traffic lights the day before! Ah, it made sense now. The girl he had spoken about on the phone, the one for whom he had bought the "diamond so big she wouldn't be able to lift her hand", was the lover he was trying to win back. Despite his cocky attitude and money, he still needed the help of a prophet to get the girl to marry him. What an idiot. If I played my cards right, we could make a killing from this fool.
"So, you mentioned your lover on the phone," I began. "What happened?"
He threw another wary glance around the room. "I proposed to her yesterday. It was perfect, you know. I took her to a very expensive restaurant, ordered the best champagne, got her a huge ring and everything. But halfway through the proposal the waiter showed up." He clicked his tongue. "Stupid bloody fool ruined the moment, and of course I lost my temper. Who wouldn't? But my girl is one of those sensitive types," he added impatiently, rolling his eyes. "She got upset when I shouted at the waiter, and she walked out. She's still not answering my calls."
I thought it was a miracle he could keep a sensitive woman with his attitude, but I kept that opinion to myself and instead nodded sagely. "Ah, I see, I see. And you want me to help you get her back?"
"Isn't that what you do?" He reached into his pocket and produced a folded piece of paper. He opened it and waved it at me. It was the flyer I had given him. "Prophet Mazinga from Mozambique," it read. "Penis Enlargement. See your enemies in a mirror. Bring Back Lost Lover."
I nodded. "I can help you. What is the name of your beloved?"
"Ayanda."
I couldn't resist a smile. Another one? That name was far too common.
"What's so funny?" the client asked.
"Nothing. Surname?"
"Zwane."
I froze. "Eh, excuse me?"
"Zwa-ne," he repeated.
I could still see her face as she stepped out of the taxi all those years ago. Ayanda Zwane. My first love. My only love, to be honest. One coincidence I could handle, but this? What were the chances that there was another girl in Joburg with the same name and surname? I took a deep breath.
The man leaned forward. "What's wrong?"
"Do you have a photo?"
He took his cell phone out of his pocket, sought the photo and handed the phone to me. As soon as I saw the photograph, I knew it was her. She was even more beautiful now, but she still had that sweet, shy smile and flawless skin. Ayanda. And she was dating this stupid, puffed up... I looked at the client again and a terrible thought occurred to me.
"Uh, what did you say your name was?" I asked.
"Jasper," he said, and my worst fears were confirmed. "Jasper N-"
"Ndlovu," I whispered. Oh my God."
"Hey! How did you know that?"
I looked into his obnoxious face and wondered how I'd missed it. Of course it was Jasper. He was bigger, more muscular and far better dressed than before, but he had the same smug face. Vusi had told me he was a bigshot, and now he planned to marry Ayanda. My Ayanda! History was repeating itself. Fifteen years ago he had enlisted my help to write her a poem, and now he wanted my help again. I would help him, sure. I would help him the same way I helped him before, and I would take as much of his money as I could in the process.
I sunk lower on the mat and pushed up my shades, just in case he recognised me. "Where did you meet this Ayanda?"
"I work for her father. But we first met in –"
"School?"
Jasper frowned. "How did you know?"
I smiled. "I'm good at what I do. Do you love her?"
"Of course. We have been together for the past year and a half, on and off."
"So why doesn't she want to marry you? Does she love you?"
"Of course she does. But that's beside the point. I'm paying you to get her back. Can you or can't you?"
I took a minute to gather my thoughts. I would have to take a chance here, but it would be worth it. "I'm going to need a little bit more time on this case. It seems to be quite complicated. I will need as much information as possible on this...Ayanda. What is her home address?"
"Blue Hills Estate. Number two-three-nine."
I pulled out my phone and typed in the information, my heart racing. "Work address?"
"Amazi Spring Water. 136 Caroline Street. We both work there."
I typed as fast as I could. "Where does she spend her free time?"
"Is all this information really necessary?"
I sighed impatiently. "Do you want her back or not?" Raising my voice to a shout, I added, "Do you doubt my powers? The ancestors say that it's a complicated case!"
And right on cue, Vusi did his part. "Ayanda...Ayanda...Ayanda..."
Jasper jumped. "What was that?"
I glared at him. "There are powers at work here, my friend. Powers." I leaned in menacingly. "What does she do in her free time?"
"Charity work," he blurted out nervously. "Um, at the St. Martins Orphanage, and some other places. An old age home, I think. And a legal clinic somewhere in Soweto."
I hesitated for a second before typing. St. Martins? Ah, there were too many blasts from the past coming back to haunt me that day. First Jasper and Ayanda, and now the orphanage. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe this was the job that would set me and Vusi up once and for all.
I nodded firmly. "Right, Mr Ndlovu, I need a deposit before I can begin my work."
"What?"
I looked him up and down. "De-po-sit. Don't you understand English?"
Jasper frowned and leaned closer. "Have we met before? I feel like I know you from somewhere."
I pushed my shades up once more and leaned away from him. "That's because I visit you in your dreams every night. I am the voice of tomorrow and the echo of yesterday. I am the painter of your destiny and the voice of your wildest dreams. And I can be your worst nightmare...if you don't pay your deposit."
Jasper reached reluctantly into his wallet and pulled out a wad of cash. I took the money and counted it out. Yes, it would do nicely. For starters.
"The ancestors thank you," I told him. "I will get started immediately. Did you sign up for the SMS updates? Just visit our website and fill in the contact form. SMSs are charged at one rand fifty. Look, is that the time already?" I got to my feet. Jasper followed suit and I ushered him towards the door. "Time for my next appointment. Good bye. And good luck. Not that you need it when you've got me on the case. Heh heh."
He paused at the door. "Are you sure this is going to work?"
Oh, for goodness sake. I put on my best air of injured mystique. "My son, if the ancestors sense doubt then it will not work. I will need that photo on your phone, by the way. Send it to the number on the flyer."
Jasper took out his phone and sent the picture. A moment later, my phone beeped.
"Thank you, my son," I said, patting his muscular shoulder. "Until next time."
He stepped out and I banged the door shut behind him. The second the door closed, Vusi emerged from behind the curtain and rushed at me.
"What the hell do you think you're doing? Are you crazy?"
I stared at the picture on my phone of Ayanda and Jasper cuddling. I covered Jasper's face with my thumb. Ah. That was better.
"You can't do this, Senzo. You know the rules. No personal jobs."
"This isn't personal. It's business. I have a chance to get even with Jasper after all these years, and I'm taking it."
"Like hell," hissed Vusi. "This is about Ayanda! You're still in love with her."
I wasn't listening. I was staring at her gorgeous face, imagining what it would be like to see her in the flesh again.
"How exactly do you see this playing out?"
"I think you're overreacting, Vus." I turned to face him. "Jasper is rich and stupid, and we need money. If we pull this off, we can make more than we've made in the last two years, and then we can get out of the con game for good."
He looked sceptical. "I've heard that before."
I held out the wad of money Jasper had left. "Look at this."
His eyes boggled when he saw how much money was in my hand, and then he shook his head. "If this was really just business, I'd say go for it. But it's not. Look how you're staring at her photo! You're going to get us caught. Why are you lying to yourself, bra?"
I glanced at the photo and sighed. "Fine. You're right. This is about Ayanda. Vusi, we have to get her back."
"We?" he croaked. "Who's we? Besides, you never had her in the first place."
I shrugged. "Minor detail."
Vusi let out an exasperated groan. "Okay, Mr. Minor Detail, how are you going to get her back?
I drew myself up to my full height and took a deep breath. "I have no idea."