‘I waited outside Shadrack’s spaza shop, until it was late in the evening. He arrived at dusk, coming home only to bring some groceries to be sold at the shop, and to eat, before going back again to rank in the city. He is a hard worker, that Shadrack. He has no time to rest. That is why he is successful. This is a lesson to you young pipsqueaks who think that things will just fall into your laps like manna from heaven. I told Shadrack about my friend, and after advising me that a car does not move by water but by petrol, I gave him some money to pour petrol into his car. It was fortunate, my brothers and sisters, that I had some money in my shoe where I hide it from my grandchildren. Oops, now they know where I hide my money. But don’t worry, I’ll find another place. All my pension money went into petrol, my dear brothers and sisters, in order to save the life of my dear friend.
‘I am sure that when we took my friend from his house, he was still breathing. But by the time we arrived at the hospital, he was dead. There was nothing that the doctors could do. So we took him to the mortuary instead.’
We are very angry at the needless death of the patriarch, and we condemn his sons for this abomination. Those who come from his ethnic group say that although they don’t condone the action of the sons, it was wrong for the deceased to allow the children of the mistress to shave ahead of the proper children. The custom of shaving is crucial, and must be strictly observed. It is almost as important as the custom of filling the grave with soil after the coffin has been lowered into it and all the prayers and orations have been made. The first people to be given the spade to throw soil into the grave are the male relatives. And these must throw the soil in order of their seniority, as with the cutting of hair. Only then can the general public be allowed to fill the grave with soil, and to shape the mound where flowers and wreaths will be laid. Squabbles have often arisen when the names of the male relatives have been called in the incorrect order. But it is unheard of for an elder to be killed by his own children for failing to properly observe the custom. We all agree that the two sons, who are now in prison awaiting trial, deserve to be in jail for the rest of their lives, or to be hanged.
This sad tale confirms what Toloki has long observed. Funerals acquire a life of their own, and give birth to other funerals. The old man’s funeral has come about as a direct result of his son’s funeral. This was also the case back in the village many years ago, when the choir girl was shot dead at a school-mate’s funeral. Indeed, every day we hear of car accidents in which people on their way to or from the funerals of friends or relatives are killed.
After the funeral we solemnly march to the home of the deceased. There we wash our hands in water that has been mixed with the juice of aloes. After this, we wait for the food.
As usual, samp and beef is served in three large basins — almost the size of small bathtubs. One is for the men, the second one for the women, and the third for children. We dip our hands into the samp and, with gravy dripping down our forearms to the elbows, we stuff the food into our mouths.
Toloki is impressed by the care taken with the food. The meat is so soft that even old grandmothers and grandfathers can chew it with their gums. It is well salted, but it is not spiced. Funeral meat is never spiced. It is just boiled in water and seasoned with salt. The samp also is soft and tender. Often the samp at funerals is hard and undercooked.
He looks around, and sees Noria enjoying her food at the basin that is reserved for women. Poor Noria, she only gets to eat meat when there is a funeral. Toloki, on the other hand, does not usually eat at funerals. At first, it was not his choice not to eat. However, when he used to join the men’s basin they would make snide remarks about him, and about his odour. Blunt ones would even tell him rudely that he was not welcome at their dish. He could have refused to move, and continued to eat. After all, the food was meant for everyone who was at the funeral, and the louts did not have any special rights over it. But he decided not to lower the dignity of his profession by engaging in quarrels about food. People have been known to fight and injure one another over food at funerals.
At some funerals, especially in the townships where there are better-off people, the system of dispensing food is different. The most important people — usually the relatives and close friends of the family, and those who are pillars of the community — are served food inside the house at the table. The food that is served there will include not only the usual funeral fare of samp and beef, but rice, and some salads, and jelly and custard. The second stratum is made up of those people who are fairly important, but not well-known enough to sit inside at the table. They form a line outside, and women at a table dish samp, beef, and sometimes cabbage onto their individual paper or plastic plates. They eat standing and gossiping about how great and impressive the funeral was, and what inspiring speeches were made, and who has been secretly sleeping with whose wife. The final stratum is that of the rabble. They are fed samp and beef in communal basins, as is done at this funeral in the settlement. The difference in the settlement is that everyone eats like this. The ranked strata do not exist.
At township funerals, Toloki belongs to the second stratum. He usually collects his food, and drifts to some spot where there are no people, and quietly eats from his plate.
No one ever has to stand there and separate people according to their strata. People know who they are and where they belong. These things always work themselves out.
Toloki dips his hand into the samp over and over again. No one complains about him, since the only odour emanating from him is that of perfume. He needs to eat and fill his stomach, especially since he does not know where his next meal will come from. He has some money, but he is far away from the places where he used to buy his luxury food of cakes and green onions. Of course he can buy the normal food of mealie-meal and some relish from a spaza shop, and they can cook it together on the primus stove in the shack. But will Noria agree to that? Won’t she say that she doesn’t take things from men? He needs to tread lightly, until he has a better understanding of this woman. Or at least until he knows exactly which are the right things to do, and which are the wrong ones.
After the meal, Toloki and Noria go back to their shack. They have some time to kill before she goes to help Madimbhaza, and then to attend her meeting. Toloki has promised to go with her, so as to see what kind of work she does. But first he must change into his civilian clothes. Noria has suggested that he wear his mourning clothes only when he goes to funerals. At home, he must look like other men. It is not a bad idea, really, since it will help to preserve his costume for further years of mourning.
They sit outside the shack and talk about the world, and about death. Noria says she is beginning to get the hang of this mourning business. And she believes that she is able to read meaning into the sounds that he produces. But she needs to attend more funerals with Toloki in order to thoroughly grasp the profound meaning that he draws from the depth of his soul. They try a few sounds together, especially the new goatly sounds. Noria’s first attempts are quite amateurish, and they both burst out laughing.
‘I am sorry, Toloki, to laugh about such serious matters.’
‘Don’t be sorry, Noria. In death we laugh as well. Don’t you remember that when you were a little girl, your own friend died laughing?’
‘You are such a wise man, Toloki.’
Toloki tells her of an occasion, not long ago, when the whole graveyard broke into laughter. There were four funerals taking place at the same time. One of them was a Zionist funeral, and was particularly noisy, since Zionists beat drums and dance around when they pray. At the funeral where he was mourning, things were very solemn, as the family belonged to a denomination that believed in burying their dead with quiet dignity. At the various funerals, preachers were preaching, orators were making their speeches, and people were singing various hymns. Each person was supposed to concentrate on the activities of the funeral she or he was attending, and ignore the noise from other funerals.