Camagu cannot contain his joy as he walks on the sandbank of the great lagoon singing to himself. He has left the snake lying on his bed. It will go on its way when it feels like it. He breaks into a jog, but stops when he runs out of breath. Age has indeed caught up with him. There was a time when he could run for hours. And that was not so long ago.
“Hello, stranger!”
He is startled. He looks around, but cannot see anyone. She whistles at him, and he sees her head bobbing in the water. It is that confounded girl again! The one who sullies crystal-clear water with poisonous juices, turning it into purple slime.
“Is it not possible to be anywhere without you sneaking around?”
She walks out of the water. She struts about in panties and a bra, as if she were a fat model in a top-of-the-range bikini. She reaches for a dress that was left on a rock to dry. Although it is still wet she puts it on, and joins him on the sandbank. He tries very hard to pretend that he does not see the buxom curves that are accentuated by the wet dress that desperately clings on her body and has become see-through.
“Sneaking around? I should think you are the one who is sneaking around. This is my lagoon. I live here. You live in Johannesburg. And if I were you I would go back there and stop bothering innocent people.”
They glare at each other for a while. Then she breaks out laughing. He self-consciously inspects himself, in case his fly is open.
“I shall not let you spoil my day,” Camagu says, walking away. “Today I was visited by my snake. I thought it was going to be my lucky day.”
“So soon?” she asks.
He stops and looks at her.
“So soon?” he repeats, wondering what on earth she means.
“I didn’t think you would see through your thin girlfriend so early in your affair. I agree with you: Xoliswa Ximiya is a snake.”
“I am talking about my totem snake, foolish girl!”
He walks away in disgust. She follows him. He walks faster still. She keeps up the pace. It frustrates him that he cannot get rid of her.
“Honestly, she is a snake. Don’t you see her beauty? It is not normal. When a woman is that beautiful my people say she has been licked by a snake. I know her very well. She was my teacher at Qolorha-by-Sea Secondary School. She has no patience with those who lack beauty.”
By this time Camagu is running. But the girl is keeping a steady pace behind him, all the while yapping about the beauty of Xoliswa Ximiya. In class, the irritating girl continues, Miss Ximiya used to begin her lessons by reading from a newspaper cutting the story of a Taiwanese woman called Hu Pao-yin. She killed her mother-in-law and stabbed her mother with a knife because they were not pretty enough to deserve to live. Hu Pao-yin declared, “I am the most beautiful woman in the world and the existence of other women is unnecessary.”
Exactly Xoliswa Ximiya’s sentiments.
She read this story to her class before every lesson. At the end of the story she would remark breathlessly, “Isn’t it romantic?”
Camagu cannot run forever. He sits down on a rock, completely out of breath. Qukezwa stands in front of him, arms akimbo, and says, “She read the story of Hu Pao-yin over and over again, until the newspaper cutting went yellow with age. She wished she could have the courage to do what the Taiwanese woman did. In the long run we couldn’t stand it. We stole the newspaper cutting and destroyed it. She was never the same after that.”
“Never the same?”
“The way you see her now. A frozen statue.”
“You are a nuisance, you know that? You even slander your former teacher. What kind of a child are you?”
“Child? Is that all you see in me? Child? I am nineteen, you know. I am going to be twenty in two months’ time. Many of my age-mates are married with children.”
“To me you are a child.”
“It’s because you are an old man. Old. Finished and klaar. A bag of old bones. A limp that cannot be saved even by Viagra. I don’t know what you’re doing chasing young children like NomaRussia!”
Ouch!
Camagu decides he cannot compete with this girl’s acerbic tongue. Get her on your side, he tells himself. She can be a deadly enemy. Get her on your side. She may even lead you to NomaRussia. It is obvious that she knows her.
“Listen, I don’t want to exchange insults with you,” he says. “What did I ever do to you? I don’t want to be your enemy. Let’s be friends, okay?”
“Don’t pretend to be nice to me. I can’t help you. I do not know the NomaRussia you are looking for.”
The witch!
“Did I tell you that I passed Standard Eight? I may not be an ‘Excuse Me’ from Fort Hare like your thin girlfriend, but at least I can read and write.”
“Well, congratulations!” He spits the words out, making sure that she does not miss the sarcasm in his voice.
But she is no longer paying any attention to him. She is clapping hands for a group of five women who are walking rhythmically on the sandbank, singing and ululating. Each woman has a bundle of mussels and an ulugxa, a piece of metal that they use to harvest imbhaza and imbhatyisa—as mussels and oysters are called — from the rocks when the waves have uncovered them. Some of the women are wearing gum-boots while others walk barefoot. Two of them, NoGiant and MamCirha, are also holding plastic bags that are full of oysters. They stop to talk with Qukezwa.
“Yo! This child of Zim! You have not gone to work today?” asks NoGiant.
“This child of Zim has wonders! That Dalton lets her do what she likes,” adds MamCirha.
“Hey, Qukezwa! Why don’t you ask your friend to buy our harvest?”
“There is plenty of imbhaza here to last him for many meals.”
“And imbhatyisa too. Men love imbhatyisa!”
They all giggle knowingly.
Camagu is curious. He inspects the bundles of mussels. He is not one for seafood, and was not aware that the amaXhosa of the wild coast eat the slimy creatures from the sea. Qukezwa explains that they sell the best of their harvest to the Blue Flamingo Hotel, or to individual tourists. Male tourists like to buy imbhatyisa and eat them raw on the spot. Those imbhaza and imbhatyisa that have not been bought, the women take home to their families. They fry them with onions and use them as a relish to eat with maize porridge or samp. Although this is very tasty and healthy food, children are not allowed to eat oysters because they are an aphrodisiac. They make men frisky. That is why they are called imbhatyisa — that which makes one horny.
NoGiant and MamCirha try to persuade Camagu to buy some of the oysters, seeing that now he has the attention not only of the headmistress but of Qukezwa as well. One giggles and whispers to the others, “A man needs all the strength he can get.”
They burst out laughing. Camagu appreciates the joke, although he is a bit embarrassed by it. He laughs with them.
NoGiant says, “Seriously, though, you don’t have to eat imbhatyisa raw. When you have fried it, it is such wonderful meat! Once you taste it you will never leave it again.”
But Camagu tells her that he is staying at the hotel, where all his cooking is done for him. If he bought their harvest he would have nowhere to cook it. The women bid them good-bye, and continue their boisterous and songful walk to the village.
“You could have asked your thin girlfriend to cook it for you,” says Qukezwa.
“Don’t you start with me again,” pleads Camagu.
“I doubt if she can even cook. What with her long red nails. . like the talons of a vulture after ripping open a carcass.”