Toloki remembers the crayons and paper that he brought from the city. He takes them out and starts drawing pictures. He draws flowers, and is surprised to see that his hand has not lost its touch. He draws roses that look like those he brought Noria, the roses that are still very much alive in the bottle that is filled with water inside the shack. He also draws the zinnias that he brought her the other day.
‘I was not able to bring you any flowers today, Noria. But you can have these that I have drawn with crayons.’
‘I love these even better, Toloki, for they are your own creation.’
As the afternoon progresses, Toloki draws pictures of horses, as he used to do back in the village. Noria says that they are the best pictures that she has seen in all her life. She asks him to draw pictures of children as well. Toloki tries, but he is unable to.
‘You remember, Noria, even back in the village I could never draw pictures of human figures.’
Noria jokingly says that maybe she should sing for him, as she used to do for Jwara. After all, Jwara was only able to create through Noria’s song. Noria sings her meaningless song of old. All of a sudden, Toloki finds himself drawing pictures of the children playing. Children stop their games and gather around him. They watch him draw colourful pictures of children’s faces, and of children playing merry go-round in the clouds. The children from the dumping ground and from the settlement are able to identify some of the faces. These are faces they know, faces of their friends, their own faces. They laugh and make fun of the strange expressions that Toloki has sketched on their purple and yellow and red and blue faces.
The drawing becomes frenzied, as Noria’s voice rises. Passers-by stop to watch, and are overcome by warm feelings. It is as though Toloki is possessed by this new ability to create human figures. He breathes heavily with excitement, and his palms are clammy. His whole body tingles, as he furiously gives shape to the lines on the paper. His breathing reaches a crescendo that is broken by an orgasmic scream. This leaves him utterly exhausted. At the same moment, Noria’s song stops. The spell breaks, and the passers-by go on their way. Others come and look at Toloki’s work, and say it is the work of a genius. In the same way that they read meaning in the shack he and Noria built, they say that the work has profound meaning. As usual, they cannot say what the meaning is. It is not even necessary to say, or even to know, what the meaning is. It is enough only to know that there is a meaning, and it is a profound one.
They had not noticed that Shadrack was one of the spectators. He is pushed in a wheelchair by one of his employees. For the first time, he looks directly at Toloki, and smiles. Toloki detects some condescension, but he does not mind.
‘I saw you work. It was a moving experience.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I didn’t think you’d leave the hospital so soon, Bhut’Shaddy. I was planning to go and see you again on New Year’s Day.’
‘I left against the advice of my doctors. I’ll go back after New Year. I had to come back and attend to my business. You know that New Year is a very busy time for business.’
He says that he was on his way to buy more stock for his spaza shop when he saw the crowd gathering. He asked his driver to stop the van, and to wheel him to the shack so that he could see with his own eyes what was happening. He had heard from Noria’s homeboys and homegirls of the power she used to have back in the village, and he had never believed the stories. But what he has seen with his own eyes this afternoon has left him dumbfounded. He has never had so much good feeling swelling in his chest before.
‘I cannot spoil things between you two. Yours is a creative partnership.’
Shadrack is wheeled back to his van, parked in the street a few yards away. As the van drives away, Noria smiles at Toloki.
‘He is right, you know, Toloki.’
Toloki does not respond. He does not understand. But of course if Noria says that Shadrack is right, he must be right. Then she whispers in his ear.
‘And Toloki, don’t be ashamed to have dreams about me. It is not dirty to have dreams. It is beautiful. It shows that you are human. We are both human.’
Toloki is embarrassed. How did she know about the dreams? How is she able to read his mind like this? He tries to apologise, and to explain that at least last night he did not have any dreams. But Noria puts her finger on his lips, and tells him that there is no need to say anything.
While these embarrassing exchanges are going on, the children are busy with Toloki’s crayons. They are trying to copy the images he has created, and are competing as to whose are better. To escape any further discussion on the merits of dreams, Toloki turns to the children and shows them various techniques of drawing better images.
Late in the afternoon, almost towards dusk, a very long car followed by a truck stops outside Noria’s shack. There are many boxes on the truck. A man wearing a black uniform like that of a security guard, or of men whose work is to stand by the entrances of big hotels in the city and open doors for people, alights from the front seat of the limousine and opens the back door. A fat man in a white suit steps out, and pompously waddles towards the shack. Soon all the children are standing around the long white car, admiring it. Other people from the neighbourhood come as well. They have never before seen a car that is as long as a bus.
The fat man is none other than Nefolovhodwe. He greets Toloki and Noria, and laughs in his booming voice.
‘They have never seen a car like this before. It is a limousine that I recently imported from America. It is called a Cadillac. Hey, Toloki, my boy, don’t you think it’s nice that I have come to light up your little miserable lives with my white Cadillac?’
‘What do you want from us? Who showed you where we live?’
‘Don’t be hostile, my boy. When you hear why I came, you will thank me.’
He tells them that he returned from their village that very week. Then he chides them for neglecting their parents.
‘You, Toloki, have neglected your mother, and you, Noria, have neglected your father.’
‘So now all of a sudden you know who we are, and who our parents are? And you have taken it upon yourself to teach us about our duty to our parents? What about your duty to your real wife and your nine children? Do you think we do not know about you?’
‘It is none of your business, ugly boy.’
But Noria is more conciliatory. She wants to know how her father is. Nefolovhodwe relishes being the bearer of news. He tells them that their parents are well, but of course they are much older than he seemed to remember them. Xesibe talks every day of his lost daughter. He still has many cattle, and continues, as before, to be a successful farmer.
‘And my mother? How is she?’
‘So now you want to know?’
‘You can tell me if you like. And then disappear from our lives. You do not impress us at all.’
Noria reprimands Toloki gently, saying that whatever Nefolovhodwe has done to Toloki in the past, he is their visitor at this moment. They must treat him with courtesy.
Toloki, however, is glad to get back at the despicable man, and is rather amazed that a rich and proud man like Nefolovhodwe should just stand there and take all the rudeness being heaped on him. This is not quite the same Nefolovhodwe he remembers, sitting at his huge desk, playing with fleas, and dispensing doses of bad attitude to everyone.
‘Well, ugly boy, you will be glad to hear that your mother too is well. Actually, I went to the village especially to see her.’
‘Why would you want to see my mother when you don’t know the village people anymore now that you are rich?’
Nefolovhodwe ignores this and goes on to say that he went to Toloki’s home. But all the houses were in ruins, as no one had lived there for years. Grass and shrubs had grown all over, and it was impossible to tell that a proud homestead had stood there once upon a time. It was essential that he found Toloki’s mother, since he had come all the way from the city to see her. But he had no idea where to look. At the same time, he did not want to go around asking people. He had no desire to renew acquaintances with people he had not seen for many years. Nor did he want to be bothered with stories of how his wife and nine children, who would obviously be adults in their own right by now, were doing. He just wanted to meet Toloki’s mother, finish his business with her, and drive to town to the hotel where he was staying.