Thulubonge Mpande

The heat is thick and hovers over their skin like a stranger in a long queue. Long walks are Mme and Mpho’s thing, Thula prefers high intensity workouts because of their time efficiency. But she agreed to this because it served two purposes and their list of options had dwindled. Days earlier they tried to have dinner together but were not successful. They were both mistaken about the amount of overlap between the tactical strategy and analyst teams. And the Thaba Tshwane hierarchy holds firm, regardless of the collaboration. They walk to the top of the same hill they had walked to the previous day.

“Well done on the Mombasa Port report. Your team did not fakaround with the turnaround time ne.”

“And I hear your teams not idling with the implementation strategy either.”

They bump fists and side-hug before changing the subject. They update each other about changes that have occurred in their families lives since yesterday.

“My cellphone may as well be a landline,” Thula says while blowing at a dandelion.

“yours too,” she continues.

“Beyps, I thought I knew things. Kanti zero, tribal wars are primary school compared to,” she gestures towards the field at the foot of the hill where soldiers sometimes exercise.

“And so, you and Jill Scott?” she asks but her tone is uneven.

Khana let’s out a sigh, “Angazi hey, I haven’t seen her since that day at dinner.”

Showered and ready for the day, Thula swipes her sleeve one more time before leaving her room. Breakfast is like a ceremonious ritual. And although it spans three hours, all three hours seem to be peak time. Breakfast is also an icebreaker topic for most of their morning team meetings.

“Quickly,” she hears Maj. Mwashita saying to Raymond as he finishes a blueberry muffin in two bites before entering the briefing room. He’s not late but is the last to arrive and Maj. Mwashita is ready to start the meeting.

“As of midnight, another 5 ports have made it onto the watchlist. They are not under siege, but we have been tasked with preparing incase this does happen,” Maj. announces before Raymond swallows.

“I hope you all managed to get in a proper breakfast. The mushroom and onion omelet was a highlight this morning.”

“I think chef Nkabinde caramelized the onions before adding them. So so good,” Raymond chimes and Maj. returns a nod in agreement.

“Latest data also shows that this revolutionist group is in at least 9 countries in Sub-Saharan Africa, 4 of which are SADC countries. We now know that they are very well organized and intentional about every move they make. We will be updating the report we have on them, starting with the demographics,” Maj. informs the team before splitting them into three smaller groups. At the end of the meeting Thula’s group is assigned the task of interviewing the religious leaders.

Thula looks out the window as the religious leaders arrive. A total of 8 people, all from towns and cities where the group is reported to be present. ‘Meet me at the doctors residence after class, please.’ was the last sms she received from Tandzile. She is reminded when she sees the sangoma climb out of the white government suv.

The room was insipid but it received a lot of afternoon sunlight. It made Tandzile’s eyes sparkle showing off the specks of chestnut in their eyes. “Night shift?” she askes and Tandzile nods. They don’t hug or kiss. They don’t touch. Thula leans against the window in an attempt to prevent herself from pacing. Tandzile sits at the edge of the bed facing her.

“I’m going to do it, the initiation, I’m going.”

“When? Wait. Why tell me?”

“I don’t know. When it’s time,” Tandzile pause and the room fills with the fury from the last time they spoke.

“ … I love you Mpande, that’s why I’m telling you.”

“Hayibo, I know that but its not a reason. Why trust me about this now?” Thula poses the question even though she knows that the only place she’ll find the real answer is between the lines.

The warmth of the morning light makes its way through the cold air and gently nudges her awake. Her first thought is how much she regrets not leaving after Tandzile left for their shift. She drags herself out of bed and resolves to shower back at her apartment. She sends Tandzile an sms as she walks down to the main road.

“uTandzile blacked out emsebentini, we thought we should call to let you know kutsi we’re going back home to ESwatini, it’s time. Uyeva sesi?” Tandziles sisters voice echoes on the other side of the line. Questions about Tandzile flood her mind but she knows better so “thank you for letting me know,” is all that came out of her mouth.

The interviews take longer than they had thought. Though Thula and her team have a set of questions, the religious leaders prefer to talk about the community. They share details that they think will be helpful in understanding the group, the people and how things work. They’ve only finished 3 interviews today.

“The problem is that they under estimated things. People who call for liberation and independence always participate in efforts to get it,” Father Dave comments.

“Impela, they made the same mistake two years ago. This group succeeded in getting indigenous historical texts introduced into the high school curriculum in 2 different countries. But these people didn’t see it as their first move,” Rev. Sobantu retorts.

“This brand though,” Thula thinks to herself before making a mental note to check if this was part of their statement. She turns to them and thanks them for their time. She decides to get a take-away dinner from the kitchen instead of ‘sitting through more of this’. Light from the spot light seeps in through the blinds. She places her food on the desk, closes the curtains and switches on one of the side lamps. Only a handful of her impepho is left. She carefully breaks off a generous piece and smells it. The little grey and black plastic bag is easier to tie now. She puts it back into her suite case. It is the only thing left in there now. The twigs crackle softly as the flame propagates and the burning leaves slowly release their smoke. She blows on it gently and begins to hum.

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