Thulubonge Mpande

“Thula wake-up, hi fikile,” she lightly taps her on her knee.

She exhales deeply before opening her eyes and is glad they’ve not arrived at their final destination. “Sync your clocks and watches to this one and be back on this bus in thirty minutes,” she hears as the bus draws to a stop. Thula looks out the window briefly in an attempt to find anything familiar.

“We’re in Tempe Base, it was written near the gate when we drove in. I thought we were going straight to Thaba Tshwane,” Khana explains as if she heard Thula ask herself the same question about their itinerary.

“Dankie babes,” she replies and her phone rings. It’s Mme calling for an update but the signal is bad so the call does not last long. She sends her a long message answering any question that they could have about her journey so far. The bus hydraulics adjust and let out sigh as if to mimic a humans relief from strain. She puts her phone in her back pocket and holds on to the rail as she makes her way down the last two steps. And there, in front of the hatch just like her mothers had stood, is a queue of people waiting to be given their luggage.

“Yebo siyazi ukuthi zilethwe uyise, just sign,” she hears and a tall male, with a mountain tattoo on one wrist and a cross on the other, takes the clip board from the lieutenant and signs. She is sure that he is younger than twenty five. She is also sure that it is more than half of the bus occupants that are waiting for their belongings.

“The best toilets are in the main building, straight and left, you won’t miss it,” Khana gestured with one hand and holds a can of Fanta grape in the other.

“And the Fanta?” Thula asks jokingly and Khana smiles.

“It was the last one,” she replies and offers to leave her some.

On her way back from the bathroom, Thula keeps an eye out for a shop or vending machine. She wonders about this base, the things these vehicles have seen. She has always imagined that inanimate objects have an objective view of events, that they lack emotion. And as an analyst, she often wished they could talk so that their stories would sometimes be the primary source of data. Why weren’t they brought here for training? She wondered. This base is bigger and more equipped than the one near Castleburg. The soldiers in the bus seemed like they have some experience. Not live field experience but training like hers. She could tell by their manner and discourse. But why are they remaining in Tempe? She wonders these things as she runs her index and middle finger across the side of one of the Mamba Mk1’s that is taking up nearly two parking spots. The metal exterior is cold like the R4 they gave her during target practice. Before that, she had never held a firearm and had never imagined she ever would. Now she has experience with more than three kinds of firearms.

Thula makes it back to the bus with two minutes to spare. There is chanting and singing, thula mama, thula mama, iyo thula mama mama mama, it becomes more audible as she gets closer to the bus. It’s a new group of soldiers, their boots are more worn in.

“Living on the edge ne,” she pokes and moves her feet so Thula can pass. Her top lifts slightly and reveals an abstract sunflower tattoo. Khana considers the meaning, but has little information to go on. They spoke only for an hour before Thula started to fall asleep.

“Oh. I thought you were joking. Thank you,” she replies when Khana gives her the can of Fanta.

“I was, but this is now a bribe. Tell me all about your tattoo.”

“The sunflower one?”

“Are there more kanti ?”

“Are there more cans of Fanta?”

The singing comes to an abrupt stop. And the vibrations and energy caused by the clapping and stomping dissipates. They all face forward like scholars when the principal walks into a classroom. It’s a different lieutenant. She looks familiar, but Thula decides to listen instead of wading through memories trying to find her face.

“I think she was one of the people who interviewed me,” Khana says when the address is done.

They repeat to each other what the lieutenant said, in detail as if the bus driver will need the information from them later.

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