After Noria had woken up, and put on her polka-dot dress, he was able to wake up too. She poured some water into a basin, took a blanket with which to cover her nakedness, and went behind the shack to wash herself. After she had finished, she came back and poured some water for him. She told him to wash himself outside. ‘Wash yourself thoroughly. And don’t forget to wash behind your ears,’ she added. He covered himself with his blanket, pulled his pants down to his ankles, and washed his shame away. He thought of the seedy tramp who had mocked him about wet dreams in the waiting room the night before.
As he washed himself, people were passing on all sides of the shack: domestic workers rushing to catch taxis that would take them to the kitchens of their madams in the suburbs, factory workers going to the industrial areas, and pickpockets and muggers going to ply their trade in the central business district. Some of those passing by commented that it was nice that Noria had at last found herself a man. The cynics responded that for sure she had always been hiding men in her shack; no woman could survive like a nun as she pretended to do. A fat washerwoman shouted to Noria, and she responded from within the shack.
‘Hey wena Noria, don’t forget that this afternoon we have a meeting.’
‘What would make me forget, ’Malehlohonolo?’
‘Who knows? Now that you have a visitor. .’
‘You are a madwoman, ‘Malehlohonolo. Of course I’ll attend the meeting. But you make sure that you come back from your washing early, because you must also be at the meeting.’
The fat washerwoman gave a naughty giggle, as if to say, ‘Yes, Noria, I know what you were up to last night.’
Toloki was not at all bothered by the passing crowds. He is used to public ablutions. And the passers-by were not gawking at him. They were going about their business. In any case, in the settlement people generally wash themselves outside their shacks. There isn’t enough room inside for ablutions.
The dream haunts Toloki as he sits on the mound, listening to the Nurse, and seasoning his oration with goatly laments. It makes something rise in the region of his groin. It is violently kicking inside his pants. Toloki bends forward as if responding to the rhythms of oration and mourning. But what he is really doing is hiding his shame. People must not see that he has disgraced his asceticism by having dirty thoughts running through his mind, and playing havoc with his venerable body.
The Nurse is now talking of how this our brother saw his death. He was a graceful patriarch who loved his family, and was a custodian of his people’s customs. He was blessed with three sons. As an afterthought the Nurse adds, ‘Or let me rather say, we thought it was a blessing.’ And he waves in a dramatic gesture: ‘But does any one of you see his sons here? No, you cannot see his sons here, my brothers and sisters, and my children. You cannot see his sons here, because none of them are here.’
He then proceeds to relate, in his histrionic manner, how the dead man’s elder son died.
‘Those of you who are regular in the attendance of funerals will remember that slightly more than a week ago, we buried him right here in this graveyard where many of our people sleep.’ Quite a few of us mumble in agreement. We remember very well that the eldest son of the deceased was laid to rest a few days before Christmas.
Toloki does not remember that particular funeral. It is possible that he was attending other funerals at the time. With death as plentiful as it is these days, it is impossible for him to attend all funerals. All the more reason why there should be more Professional Mourners in the community.
The Nurse meanwhile continues his sorry tale.
‘The son had died a normal death. Perhaps I should say an abnormal death, because he died peacefully of natural illness in his sleep. Normal deaths are those deaths that we have become accustomed to, deaths that happen everyday. They are deaths of the gun, and the knife, and torture and gore. We don’t normally see people who die of illness or of old age.’
The son was buried with proper dignity. Early the next day, as was the custom, all the relatives of the deceased lined up in order to have their hair cut. The cutting of the hair is a very serious matter among some ethnic groups, the Nurse explains for the benefit of those whose customs may be different, and it is essential that it be done in the proper order. First, all the male children must have their hair cut in the order of seniority. The cutting is done by an elder in the family. After the male children, the grandmothers will have their hair cut, also in order of seniority. They are followed by the female children.
‘And remember that when we talk of seniority we are not concerned with the ages of the individual children. We are talking of the seniority of the households, and of the families in relation to one another. And when we talk of children, we are talking of sons and daughters of the homesteads, irrespective of their ages. Some children have long since reached adulthood, and are fathers in their own right, but they are still children when we come to these matters. I am not trying to teach you the custom, my brothers and sisters. I am merely repeating it here because it is my duty as the Nurse to tell you how this our brother saw his death.’
During the cutting of the hair, a squabble arose. The two younger brothers complained that the children of the deceased were shaved before their children. Under the usual circumstances, it would have been the proper thing to have the children of the deceased shaved before anyone else. After all, it was their father who was dead, and the two brothers were younger than the deceased. Theirs were therefore junior homesteads. But the circumstances of this case were that the deceased had made the children in question with a mistress, and not with a legally married wife. The two younger brothers therefore felt it was a crime that their children should be shaved after the children of a mistress.
‘They blamed their father, my friend the patriarch we are burying today, for allowing the scandal to happen. As an elder, and a custodian of the customs, he should not have allowed the children of a mistress to be shaved before their legitimate children. So, they beat him up with sticks. I was called from my shack by the screams of the women. When I arrived there, one of the boys even had a gun, and was surely going to use it on his father. I told him to shoot me as well, if he was going to shoot my friend. I tell you, my brothers and sisters, and my children, I nearly joined my age-mate in death. But it seems that my ancestors were too strong for these evil boys. They stopped beating up their father, and went into the house to carry on with the cutting of the hair according to how they saw fit.’
The old man ran up and down the whole settlement, trying to find transport to take his friend to hospital. But the cars he saw in the streets all refused to stop for him.
‘Shadrack is the person who usually helps us with transport at times like these. But he was away ranking in the city. You know that he does the ranking himself now, as they killed all his drivers. They killed his son too. And this very day, my brothers and sisters, he is lying in hospital because the upholders of the law tried to finish him. They do not want to see anyone helping his own people. I am told that the day before yesterday he miraculously escaped death. I have not been to see him yet. After this funeral I intend to go to the hospital to visit him. Anyway, I am still telling you how this our brother saw his death.