Recipe for love

Chapter 1
Pap and vleis, that’s traditional; but how about with a peach chutney? No, what about mashed potatoes baked onto noodles and layered with fried onions? Ja, that will really knock their socks off. Or maybe spinach and pumpkin baked with pieces of soya sausage? A lovely green curry spiced up with something unusual like cinnamon?
‘Surprise!’
Mapule thudded back to earth from her daydream of creating mouth-watering and unusual dishes, and dropped the teacup in her hand. Thankfully it fell onto the carpeted floor in the doorway.
‘Wha ...?’ The words died on her lips as she stepped in and took in the scene in the lounge.
‘Thuli?’
‘It’s me baby.’ Thuli, tall, gorgeous, glowing with health and expertly applied make-up, grabbed her cousin in a fierce hug.
‘But why are you here?’ gasped Mapule as she hugged her cousin back. “I thought you were working this weekend?’
‘I took leave,’ Thuli grinned at her and gave her another squeeze. ‘I couldn’t miss all this.’
All this was a gathering of almost everyone from church squeezed into the small lounge.
‘Happy going away party!’ shouted someone. Everyone clapped and whistled. Mapule blinked
as she took in the pastor, his wife, the band members, her friends from youth group, all happily smiling and waving and clutching plastic cups filled with cool drink or juice. Trays of samoosas, cheese bites, chicken wings and bowls of chips and sweets were piled on every surface in the room, while pink balloons floated up to the ceiling. A “Farewell” banner was stretched across the red velvet curtains and there were even a few gifts piled in the corner. Stunned, she bent down to retrieve her tea cup and noticed glitter and party hats strewn across the cream carpet.
Aunty Dolly stepped forward fussily.
‘Okay everyone, be quiet. Let my baby girl say something.’
‘Er, n-no, it’s okay,’ stammered Mapule, embarrassed by all the attention.
‘No, say something,’ insisted Aunty Dolly.
‘It’s okay,’ insisted Mapule right back.
Aunty Dolly glared. ‘Say something.’
‘Okay!’ Mapule blushed intensely. ‘Er, I am very shocked at how all this came about. I just went to have a nap and now I wake up and everyone is gathered here. How long was I sleeping for?’
Everyone laughed. Despite her discomfort, Mapule was touched.
‘I am really happy that you all came to say goodbye; thanks so much.’
‘Aw,’ Thuli led the clapping and winked at her cousin. ‘That was sweet.’
Trying not to blush even more, Mapule attemp-ted to slink back upstairs and put on something fancier than her jeans and T-shirt: they were suitable for lounging around the house on a Sunday after church, not for her own going away party!
‘ Hey wena,’ Aunty Dolly came barrelling toward her with a tray of snacks just as someone put some music on. Fascinated, Mapule stopped on the carpeted stairs and watched as Miriam, the pastor’s wife started jiggling her fleshy arms. ‘Where are you going?’
‘To change,’ hissed Mapule. ‘How could you not tell me about this? Look at me. I am so under-dressed for my own party.’
‘Agh my baby, don’t worry, you look beautiful,’ said Aunty Dolly, looking dazzling herself in a
tight halter-neck dress that showed off every one
of her ample curves. Her frizzy curls were held back with a flowered headband, and her trademark bright red lipstick and giant hoop earrings completed the look.
‘You do look lovely, Mapule,’ chimed in Thuli, popping a biscuit in her mouth. Tall, slim and coffee-coloured, Thuli was gorgeous in skinny black pants, white shirt and black heels. ‘Fresh
and sweet.’
‘Like a peach,’ Aunty Dolly’s eyes misted up.
‘Oh no,’ panicked Mapule, ‘please don’t cry.’ She would start crying too. Too late, already the tears were welling up.
‘Oh my baby!’ Aunty Dolly swooped down and gathered her niece to her pillowy chest. ‘I am
going to miss you so much.’
Thuli swiped away at her own tears and tried to lighten the mood.
‘Come with me babe,’ she gently pried Mapule away from Aunty Dolly’s powerful embrace. ‘Let’s go get you changed.’
‘Okay,’ whispered Mapule gratefully. She smiled at everyone and quickly ran up the stairs behind Thuli.
In the pale yellow bedroom that matched perfectly with the pale yellow kitchen downstairs, Mapule collapsed on a pristine white duvet.
‘ Sjoe!’’
Thuli dropped down next to her. ‘I know. Aiybo , but Aunty Dolly can be so bossy, I tell you. She made me do every ...’
‘Never mind that,’ Mapule interrupted. ‘How did you get away from work to plan this? How did you keep it a secret from me?’Thuli laughed. ‘Your Sunday afternoon nap is well known cuz, we knew you would be sleeping when we started setting it up. We’ve been planning this from the time you got the job.’
Just then the door swung open.
‘Mapi, why are you hiding here?’ Enoch
lumbered in and peered at the girls over his glasses.
‘Dad!’ squealed Mapule, bouncing up on the bed. ‘And even you managed to keep it a secret,’ she marvelled. Her father wasn’t known for his stealth or mystery. In a button-down cardigan, with his stomach protruding, unfashionable glasses and his generally vague air, Enoch looked exactly like what he was: a benevolent and kind 52-year-old teacher. He puffed out his chest and winked at Thuli.
‘Hey now, I can keep some secrets, don’t think your old man can’t be smooth.’
‘Okay,’ Mapule rolled her eyes, ‘smooth you are.’
‘Come now,’ Enoch gestured at them. ‘Don’t miss your own party.’ He started to walk out and then stopped. ‘ Eish, you girls. You are brave hey? You,’ he nodded at Thuli, ‘flying all over the world and now you, my baby, leaving home.’
He coughed and turned away quickly.
Mapule teared up. ‘Ah Dad, you know I’ll still come home and visit as much as I can.’
‘I know, I know.’ Enoch fiddled with his glasses, self-conscious at his uncharacteristic show of emotion.
‘And Dad,’ Mapule walked over to him, ‘please take care of yourself okay?’
She brushed the tears away. The now-familiar pangs of sadness and fear churned through her. Would her father be okay on his own?
Realistically she knew that she couldn’t stay in Pietermaritzburg with him forever, cooking him cabbage and rice and ironing his clothes. Making sure he remembered to close the windows. And lock his car. And buy groceries. And go to church on Sundays. And buy biscuits when it was their turn for cell meetings. She watched him polish his glasses on his cardigan, a cuddly teddy bear of a man, and her heart melted.
‘Dad,’ she cleared her throat. ‘Please don’t only live on biscuits and chips okay? There’s lots of
stuff I cooked and left in the freezer for you, you have food for about two weeks.’
Enoch nodded. ‘Did you make tripe curry?’
‘You know I don’t know how to cook that yet.’ And I hate it, she didn’t say out loud.
‘But I like tripe.’
‘Well, when I learn how to make it, I will cook it for you.’
‘What about liver and beans?’
She tried not to feel sick. ‘Done. In the yellow container.’
‘It’s okay, I’ll go to Dolly for tripe,’ he sighed mock-sadly, shrugging his shoulders. Thuli giggled and whistled admiringly.
‘ Aiybo , what an actor you are, Uncle.’ Enoch had to laugh too. He shrugged again.
‘I told you I am smooth. Come now,’ he motioned at Mapule. ‘Come downstairs.’
‘Coming.’ She closed the door to get dressed for her party.
‘Move over!’
‘You move over!’
‘Stop pulling the blanket.’
‘Agh, go sleep on the sofa then.’
Suddenly Thuli giggled. ‘I am so going to miss this.’
Mapule shifted under the blanket and swallow-ed the lump in her throat. She knew exactly what Thuli meant. This house, Thuli herself, her father, Aunty Dolly, her beloved kitchen, even their sleepovers and fighting over the blanket. Was she being silly to move to a big city all by herself? The room was silent as the girls stared into the darkness, each lost in her own thoughts.
‘Your first job as a chef,’ said Thuli, breaking the silence. ‘I am so proud of you.’
Mapule smiled at the sincerity in her cousin’s voice.
‘Thanks babe.’
First cousins via their fathers, they were best friends too. Thuli, a year older than Mapule, was very spoiled by her two doctor parents, but the girls were still extremely close. They liked almost
all the same things: music, movies, clothing, food and each other. Thuli was as noisy and loud as Mapule was quiet and introspective: Mapule could cook, Thuli could eat – and never gain weight, thought Mapule with a touch of envy. Thuli loved singing out loud, never felt embarrassment at anything, while Mapule preferred to linger in the background. And although Thuli was an air
hostess, they still saw each other as much as possible on weekends and holidays. And now Mapule was fulfilling her own dream of becoming a chef.
A thrill ran through her. It was finally happening!
Finally, at age 23 she’d be leaving home. After three years of studying and cooking exciting
food, she was leaving the KZN Chef’s School and making her way to Jo’burg for her first job, an apprentice cook at a hotel restaurant. She was a fully qualified chef – a very inexperienced one – and the only people she’d ever cooked for were her family. But still … a qualified chef.
Her dream had come true.
Ever since she could remember, Mapule had loved cooking. She had no idea if it was in her blood, passed on from her mother, because Hlonny had died during childbirth due to complications. Mapule knew nothing about her mother: she didn’t have a single memory or smell or souvenir or picture to remember her by and Enoch never spoke about her. Even after twenty-three years it was still painful for him, so she didn’t push the subject. Now and again, her Aunty Dolly would say something sweet and poignant about Hlonny, how Hlonny had loved to dance and how she had sewed the prettiest blouses, but those moments were few and far between. And because Mapule was an only child, there wasn’t another sibling to sit with and reminisce, and try to find out more about their mother.But cooking, she did have. From the age of nine – when she’d make herself a toasted cheese sandwich, with onions, a sprinkling of chopped polony and chillies – she was hooked. The sandwich officially came to be known as
Mapule’s Cheese and the Works and was a big hit as a snack in their house. Cooking, creating new concoctions, whipping up daring creations, Mapule loved it all. The smells, tastes and flavours mingled and expanded, spreading over the counters and wafting from their colourful neat yellow kitchen through to the rest of the house.
Enoch was in culinary heaven and immensely relieved when his daughter found her passion for cooking. From the day his wife had died, he’d been lost. He didn’t know who was more helpless,
himself or the defenceless baby girl he brought home from the hospital. But when Mapule started cooking, Enoch breathed a sigh of relief. Mapule was finally happy and comfortable. Cooking was her solace and the source of her happiest moments.
Mapule was a happy, sweet child. Enoch, a primary school teacher, was a loving but absentminded father, often lost in his own world, plotting growth charts for his pupils, engrossed in his science fiction novels or practising in the choir at church where he was the lead drummer. The only drummer, actually.
Still, Mapule was always taken care of: she knew she was loved. Aunty Dolly was a big figure in her life and always tried to do something nice for her birthdays or special occasions, and even took her shopping for her first bra. Thuli, her best friend and cousin knew her as well as she knew herself and always had time to listen to her goals and dreams.
And now, one of her dreams was half realised. Mapule was ready. Heart in her mouth, she had taken her final exams and come out in the top five in her class. Her lecturers had written wonderful letters of recommendation and after five months of phoning restaurants and hotels and applying for countless apprentice jobs, she finally got lucky at the Safari Hotel in Jo’burg.
It had been the weirdest experience, that interview. There she was, speech all planned in her head, ready to dazzle the manager on the phone. The woman who took the call was named Sue.
Harassed and out of breath, Sue had barked out quick questions, brushed aside Mapule’s speech, asked her when she could start and then even asked her to recommend another chef who needed an apprentice position. Unable to believe her luck, Mapule immediately volunteered
Shirley Govender, her closest friend from culinary school. Sue had given her the job on the spot, told her when to report in and taken Shirley’s number.
Amazingly, that had been that. Sue, who it turned out was the assistant manager, had faxed
a letter of appointment to the school for both Shirley and herself with a scrawled note that she was going on leave for a month and wouldn’t be there to meet the girls when they started and that they should report to Daniel Akila. The money wasn’t great, but Mapule had some savings and her father had insisted he would help her if she needed it. Finding a flat had been simple enough, although she was a bit worried about sharing and this Maxine person sounded a bit strange. Shirley, the lucky thing, was going to board with her sister in Jo’burg.
And now she was on her way to her first job.
She sighed.
Thuli grabbed more of the blanket. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’ Forcing a smile, Mapule turned to her cousin. ‘Just worried,’ she tried to swallow the lump in her throat. ‘Scared.’
‘Me too,’ whispered Thuli and Mapule stared at her.
‘Scared of what? You are never scared of anything!’
‘I am,’ insisted Thuli. ‘ Eish , Mapi, I am going on a ship. What if it sinks?’ she wailed.
‘What?’ Mapule jerked upright and the blanket went sliding off the bed.
Thuli groaned. ‘The blanket…’
‘Forget the blanket,’ Mapule prodded her cousin. ‘Going on a ship? What are you talking about?’
‘Oh ja, I’ve decided to join a cruise ship for a year.’
‘What! When did you decide this?’
‘A few weeks ago. Flying all the time is great and I love my job but I need a change and I want to see the world. So I’m going to on a cruise ship, I’ll be a waitress. Great money, all meals and accommodation provided for. We are leaving next month.’
‘Wow,’ breathed Mapule. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Yep, you know me babe, I get restless,’ she groped in the darkness and retrieved the blanket. ‘But I’m still scared. You know I get queasy just sitting in the passenger side of the car.’
Mapule laughed reassuringly. ‘Thules, it will be wonderful. You are going to see the world on a ship. I am so jealous.’
And she was, a little. Cruising around the world sounded great – but so did being a chef, she reminded herself.
Thuli shook her head and sounded pensive when she replied.
‘You know, Mapi, I have been watching you for these last few years. You are so determined. I see how you go to classes, how you take care of the house. How you even make time for that vegetable garden. Me? I’m only doing this because I don’t know what I really want to do yet. Air hostessing is fun and nice but it’s not really what I want to do with my life.’
‘You will figure it out, you are still young, there’s no rush. And think of all the money you will
make,’ Mapule assured her.
Thuli shrugged.
‘Agh, just leave it for now. I will be excited again when it’s time to leave,’ and as she said it, she realised it was true. She was just feeling a bit sad now because the adventure hadn’t started yet.
‘Anyway!’ she stared hard at Mapule in the darkness, ‘how’s what’s-his-face handling your whole big move?’
Considering that what’s-his-face Simon, Mapule’s on/off boyfriend for the last year, was focused only on his church courses to become a pastor, Mapule guessed that he was taking it very well.
‘Serious?’ Thuli was surprised. ‘I thought you and him were going well.’
Mapule tried to shrug it off. ‘We were. But he wants to be a pastor and stay here. I just don’t understand Simon. He doesn’t even want to try and live somewhere else. I want to cook and get
out of this small town. At least for a while, you know?’
‘Sometimes people are comfortable where they are,’ responded Thuli, although she herself couldn’t understand that, as restless and on-the-move as she was.
‘Yes,’ admitted Mapule, ‘but how can he not even want to see a little bit of the world? Our lives don’t start and end here!’
She shook her head angrily and felt more than a twinge of sadness. After a whole year together, she thought that Simon would understand her.
‘ Eish ,’ Thuli whistled and shifted her long legs, kicking Mapule unintentionally. ‘No ambition, that boy.’
‘No,’ Mapule shook her head. ‘He has ambition. We just have different goals.’
Thuli yawned. ‘Go to sleep babe, we’ll chat in the morning. We’ll need all our energy, you know who’s coming in the morning,’ she sighed and buried her head under the pillow.
Mapule groaned back. ‘Oh ja, I forgot. Aunty Dolly.’
Chapter 2
The beads on the end of Mapule’s braids clicked and clacked together furiously as she shook her head.
‘Oh no, no, no.’
Aunty Dolly huffed. ‘Just take it.’ She shoved the frozen package into Mapule’s unwilling hands.
‘No!’ wailed Mapule. She pushed the packet back. ‘I do not want a packet of smiley . You and Dad like that stuff, not me.’
Aunty Dolly stuffed the sheep’s head into the cooler box anyway. ‘I thought you were some big-time chef, but you don’t like to try new things.’
‘I do not eat sheep’s head, Aunty Dolly, no way.’
‘Why not? You eat the sheep’s meat. Sjoe, how you love your mutton stew!’
Dammit. She had a point. Ignoring her, Aunt Dolly continued parcelling up portions of food to take for her first week.
Aunty Dolly flapped her chubby arms. ‘It’s so hot. Get me some ice water, baby.’
She flopped onto the kitchen chair. Mapule smiled fondly at her aunt. Aunty Dolly was loud and boisterous and bordering on overweight but it suited her cheeky smile and booming voice.
And her booming fashion sense , thought Mapule. Today she was dressed in a tight flowered
sundress and espadrilles. Her beloved hoop earrings and red lipstick completed the look with her hair frizzing out like a giant pouffy halo.
‘So,’ Aunty Dolly studied her niece critically, ‘you are really leaving?’
‘I am.’ Mapule was unable to hold back her excitement.
‘You don’t have to sound so happy about it,’ sniffed Aunty Dolly.
‘I am happy,’ admitted Mapule, ‘but obviously I’m going to miss everyone.’
‘Yes, of course you will miss me,’ Aunty Dolly preened, ‘but I know how these young girls can get, they get all caught up in the life there …’
‘I won’t, I promise.’
‘And don’t forget to find a church there,’ Aunty Dolly wagged her finger warningly. ‘Don’t think you don’t need God anymore.’
‘I know.’
‘No letting boys come over,’ she eyed Mapule beadily. ‘Don’t think I’m stupid, I know all about you young ones.’
Mapule hid a smile. ‘I won’t.’
‘ Sjoe, ’ Aunty Dolly smiled suddenly. ‘If I was young like you ... ja, those were the days.’ Her eyes took on a faraway glaze.
Mapule was intrigued. ‘What days?’
As if she hadn’t heard her, Aunty Dolly closed her eyes. ‘We planned it so perfectly and one weekend we actually did it. Me and Hlonny ...’
Mapule gasped. ‘What? You and my mother went to Jo’burg?’
‘ Eish, we were close, I can tell you that.’ Aunty Dolly snapped out of her stroll down memory
lane. ‘We were right there at the bus station but Hlonny,’ she shook her head, ‘no, Hlonny couldn’t leave our mama.’
‘Wow,’ Mapule realised she was holding her breath. ‘But what happened?’
‘I wanted to go live in Jozi, but when I told your mother that at the bus stop, sjoe, she was angry. She made us go back home. I had a big mouth, I can tell you, but Hlonny, she was cheeky.’
The saddest of smiles played on Aunty Dolly’s lips.
The room was quiet. Mapule was too scared to break the silence. She could practically see the two young girls at the bus station. What would her mother have looked like at that age? She
didn’t ask. For the first time in a long time, someone was talking about her mother and she was afraid that if she said anything, Aunty Dolly would stop.
‘Your mother,’ she focused on Mapule, ‘she was very bossy sometimes. Ooh, when she got angry. Watch out…’ she cracked her knuckles for emphasis. Her eyes teared up and she turned away from her niece.
My mother was strict … and Aunty Dolly was afraid of her
Mapule was fascinated. In her mind, a picture of this stern and bossy yet caring woman began to form. Something occurred to her.
‘But, Aunty, why didn’t you go after my mother passed away?’
With the faintest look of sorrow in her eyes, Dolly replied, ‘Because I had to be here for you, my baby.’
Swallowing furiously against the lump in her throat, Mapule blinked back her own tears and smiled.
‘You just needed to stay here and boss Dad around, otherwise who knows hey?’ she joked and jerked her head toward her father engrossed in his book in the dining room.
‘Baby,’ Aunty Dolly leaned towards her. ‘Are you sure about this? You really want to leave your home?’
‘It’s only a few hours away. You and Dad can come visit whenever you want.’
‘Well, ja the shops are very nice.’ Aunty Dolly’s eyes lit up at the thought. She loved shopping
and flamboyant clothing. It didn’t go down very well at work: her job was a bank teller and she had to wear a uniform of sorts.
‘And Solly wants to go to Newtown; says he wants to stand on the bridge. Ja,’ she nodded, ‘maybe we will come visit very soon. Me and Solly …’ she giggled girlishly, ‘it can be like a honeymoon for me and him.’
Mapule squirmed and tried not to picture her aunt and her ‘paramwah’, as Aunty Dolly called him – Bra Solly.
His real name was a mystery. Everyone just called him Bra Solly. A tall, thin man with tight
dreadlocks, a fondness for high-waisted pants and button-down shirts, and a slanted hat that sat high on his long, dome-shaped head. For as long as Mapule could remember, he and Aunty Dolly had been an item. An unlikely pair, she with her loud, energetic nature and colourful clothes, him all lean and sinewy with his throwback ‘40s clothes and pointy shoes. No one knew what he did but he always had enough money to take Aunty Dolly to the movies and out for ‘something sweet’. Milkshakes. Her favourite daytime drink, she explained. When Mapule asked her what her favourite night-time drink was, she got a knock on the head for being cheeky. Bra Solly and Aunty Dolly were quite the scandal in church, because they lived together and refused to get married.
Mapule looked fondly at her aunty. She would really miss this crazy, irrepressible woman.
How do people drive here? Mapule jumped out of the car and ran into the shop. Her hands were shaking as she grabbed a cold bottle of water, and her T-shirt and track pants were soaked with sweat.
The drive had been hectic. When the alarm went off at four, she had jumped out of bed, still exhausted from packing, but so excited. After her final goodbyes to her father and Aunty Dolly, she was off, well before five o’clock in the morning, hoping to take her time on her first major drive. Not that she could take it any other way; her father’s old second-hand car could only really stay in the middle lane even on a good day!
The highways had been buzzing, and driving in the humidity without an air conditioner was terrible. And when she had finally reached Jo’burg, she promptly got lost. Almost nine hours, six frantic calls to her father, and two stops to ask for directions later, she was finally at the tiny little shopping centre across from her new flat.
She downed the water quickly, her head spinning from the relentless traffic and heat and nerves. Sitting in the car, she stared at her reflection in the mirror and dabbed at her skin with some old serviettes. The supposedly stayfast lipstick was long gone, swallowed up somewhere between the two pies and juices; her braids looked and felt worn and itchy and her clothes were tight and uncomfortable in the 38-degree heat. But it wasn’t too bad: a pretty girl of medium height with plump cheeks, full lips and sparkling brown eyes looked back at her. Short as she was, her curves did verge on plump but who trusted skinny chefs anyway?
‘Agh well,’ she tossed the serviette in her bag. ‘Maxine will just have to take me as I am.’
Mapule drove slowly over to the complex and rang the intercom for number 27, her new home. The gates opened and she waved to the sleeping security guard. Medium-sized face brick houses sat on square patches of grass, and in the distance behind a fence she could see a pool.
With a deep breath, Mapule made her way up the stairs.
She knocked. There was no answer.
She knocked again. Still no answer.
Twisting her neck, she tried to peer through the kitchen curtains but the blazing sunlight made it impossible. Suddenly the bright green door jerked open.
‘Hey!’
Mapule jumped back.
A girl squinted at her. Mapule squinted back. Maxine was … colourful. The main colour seemed to be pink. Long pink braids were bunched back in a ponytail and her slim figure was dressed in a pink T-shirt, baggy pink shorts and flat, brown sandals. Her tiny button nose wrinkled at Mapule.
‘You’re here! Chickie, I have been waiting the whole day.’ Maxine reached out and caught
Mapule in a one-armed hug. ‘Welcome!’
Much to her own surprise, Mapule did immediately feel welcome.
‘Yes,’ she explained. ‘I got very lost.’
Her eyes adjusted to the darker interior as she took in her surroundings. They were standing in a dimly lit entrance. Immediately to the left, she spotted a well-equipped kitchen with a fancy-looking coffee machine. Her eyes popped open in delight at the techy-looking gadgets. Oooh, I can have some fun in there.
‘Come through, come through,’ chirped Maxine and tugged her along. Her accent was a curious mix of Afrikaans and American. After a speedy tour of the two bedroomed flat that Mapule had only seen in an Internet ad, the girls sat down in the small lounge on two mismatched couchesMapule’s eyes were drawn to the wall across from the big-screen TV. Every possible piece of space was taken up by framed pictures, frames of every size and colour and pictures of Maxine
doing random things; there was a picture of Maxine lying on the grass wearing a sarong, here was a picture of Maxine and two guys laughing madly, another picture showed Maxine holding up a glass of blue liquid. The most eye-catching thing was the giant flag that covered one wall entirely.
‘Local is lekker, ’ Maxine thumped her fist against the flag and sat down. ‘My art,’ she waved an arm casually at the wall of photos. A row of silver bracelets clinked noisily.
And she has a nose ring, Mapule realised with a jolt of surprise. A cute, small, tiny little ring that suited her perfectly.
‘Lovely,’ Mapule sipped her water and took in the rest of the room. Bright yellow walls, a
beautiful big window and wooden floors clashed rowdily with the purple and red scattered rugs, the white wooden coffee table and the mismatched sofas. A very big potted plant dominated a corner next to the TV.
‘So! Tell me everything!’ Maxine said dramatically, focusing squarely on Mapule.
‘Er ... everything about what?’ Mapule shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.
‘About you, about your life, about everything,’ Maxine said eagerly. ‘I love hearing about
people’s life stories. It inspires me. See me?’ she pointed a sparkly fingernail at her head, ‘I’m 23, a Pisces and I love painting and partying. Now you.’
‘What do you mean, inspires you?’
‘I am an artist.’ She pronounced it arteest and sat back contentedly.
‘Oh. What kind of arteest ?’
Maxine gestured vaguely. ‘I am an artist of life . Music, poetry, painting … everything.’
Mapule was puzzled. ‘Yes, but what do you do?’
‘Chickie,’ Maxine giggled. ‘I live. That’s what art is about. Living.’
But how do you pay the rent? Mapule wanted to ask. Instead she cleared her throat and tried a different approach.
‘So where do you work, er, when you are not doing artist stuff?’
‘Oh, you mean how do I pay the rent?’ Maxine giggled again. ‘My parents. I study at the Design Studio so they are paying my rent and other expenses,’ she made quote fingers on expenses
and chuckled madly, showing off tiny white teeth.
Wow, she’s the happiest person I’ve ever met, thought Mapule. Or on drugs , chirped another critical voice.
Mapule drained the glass Maxine had thrust at her and smiled politely. ‘That must be helpful, having your parents, er … help you like that,’ she finished lamely.
‘So,’ Maxine leaned forward eagerly, ‘is this your first time in Jo’burg?’ Her eyes gleamed with
manic energy and Mapule felt exhausted already.
‘Ja, I’m from KZN,’ Mapule reminded her.
‘Oh ja, from, er ... what’s that place called?
What’s the big township there?’ She clicked her fingers impatiently.
‘Actually, no.’ Mapule stiffened and immediately felt offended. ‘I’m from Pietermaritzburg, from a suburb actually.’
Maxine’s eyes widened in dismay. ‘Oh no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just that I know someone at Design Studio who’s from that township. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.’
There was a short, tense silence and Mapule tried to figure out what to do. What a cheek! To just assume that she was from a township. Why? Because she was black? She slurped her water awkwardly and felt miserable. Her first day in her new home and already things were off to a bad start.
‘Chickie,’ Maxine patted her arm hesitantly. ‘I am really sorry, I’m so not like that. It was a stupid mistake. Sorry.’
With a sigh of relief, Mapule smiled. ‘It’s okay.’ She sat back. ‘So tell me, what’s it like to live in Jo’burg?
‘It’s really cool,’ Maxine curled up into the couch, eyes fluttering closed. ‘The complex is a
bietjie rowdy sometimes but mostly everyone’s very cool and chilled. It’s hectic but you’ll get used to it.’
Mapule gulped. ‘Hectic like how?’
‘Oh,’ Maxine waved a breezy arm. ‘Like hi-jackings and stuff but it’s all good, you just have to be safe.’
Great. Hijackings and “stuff”. Although, really, who would want to hijack her father’s old
skorroskorro?
‘And traffic?’ asked Mapule anxiously.
‘Oh ja,’ drawled Maxine, ‘it’s bad.’ Her eyes were still closed and she looked like she was falling asleep.
‘Er, where can I find the nearest church?’
Maxine’s eyes flew open. ‘Church?’
‘Yes. I go to church every Sunday.’
‘ Every Sunday?’ Maxine stared at her like she was an alien.
Mapule nodded. Obviously church wasn’t cool with hippie, arty types like Maxine.
‘Hmmm,’ Maxine tapped her finger against her mouth, ‘that is skriklik . Can I come?’
‘What?’
‘Can I come to church with you?’
‘Well, if you want …’ Maxine didn’t seem the church type. But Aunty Dolly would approve. She loved ‘converting’ people.
‘ Lekker.’ She licked her lips and closed her eyes. ‘Lots of hot boys at church, the good ones. My first boyfriend in high school was the dominee’s son. Hot. But like, you know …’ her voice trailed off, ‘like too innocent.’
‘What happened to him?’ asked Mapule politely.
‘Petras? Hmm, I don’t know.’ Her legs went flying over the side of the couch as she jerked upright again. ‘Last I heard, he married some farmer’s daughter and they are milking cows together.’ Maxine snorted with laughter.
‘Oh, where are you from?’‘Nelspruit. Can you ever?’ She put on a thick Afrikaans accent. ‘I are not liking it there,’ she mocked herself and doubled over in laughter. Despite herself, Mapule was charmed. Living with Maxine would definitely not be dull.
‘Well,’ Mapule imitated her, ‘I are from Pietermaritzburg and it are not a bad little place.’ The girls giggled at each other.
A black boot came dangerously close to clobbering Mapule in the eye as Maxine swung
her legs again. ‘Whoops,’ she ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Sorry, want something to eat?’
Mapule opened her mouth to refuse but just as quickly, Maxine’s eyes opened wide again and she leaned toward Mapule. ‘Oooh, do you have a
boyfriend? ’
She is fascinating to watch , realised Mapule. Like a crazy pink bird that was incapable of being still or focusing.
‘No, no boyfriend.’ Farewell, Simon.
‘Girlfriend?’
‘What? No!’
‘We must party tonight to celebrate your arrival!’ Maxine squealed.
Mapule blinked. Eish , this girl was definitely a handful. She was finding it very difficult to keep up.
‘Well,’ she mumbled, ‘I’m actually quite tired.’ The day had suddenly caught up with her and she felt a dull ache in her shoulders from the hours and hours on the road, stuck in traffic, the heat.
‘Okay, we’ll go out on the weekend then.’
Mapule sprang back in alarm as Maxine launched herself into Mapule’s arms for another brutal hug.
‘Okay, chickie. I’m gonna dash.’ She grabbed a big beaded bag and raced off.
‘Wait, where are you going?’ yelped Mapule. But Maxine was long gone, the door slamming shut behind her.
What a mad character. Mapule shook her head and studied the room again. It was a pretty, if small, flat. Maxine had the bigger room and the bath could definitely use a scrub but it was home for now. Unable to resist a smile, she jumped up and whirled around in happiness.
‘My new home,’ she screeched to the ceiling and whirled until she felt dizzy.
‘Chickie?’ came Maxine’s now-familiar drawl as she wandered back into the room and stared quizzically at Mapule. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Oh, ah … I, er, I thought you were gone.’ She grabbed the sofa to keep from falling over. ‘Just a happy dance,’ she smiled at Maxine.
Maxine kicked off her shoes and rushed over to Mapule. ‘Let’s do it together. I came back to get my wallet but who cares about that, let’s dance chickie.’ She spun around in a clumsy frenzy.
Ja, I think I’m definitely gonna like it here, thought Mapule.
Okay, I am really not liking it here , thought Mapule two days later. Focusing on the unsmiling man, she tried again.
‘I am very sorry.’
His dark brown eyes flashed danger signals and his mouth was drawn into a tight line. His short hair made him look like a soldier and the upright, stiff way he was standing with arms crossed didn’t help.
‘I am so sorry, really I am, this is my first time here and I’m still getting used to it all.’
She knew she was babbling but this tall, unfriendly man in the black pants and white shirt was seriously intimidating her. It was an accident. How could he be so angry about a small
accident? His van was barely dented while her old heap on the other side of the road looked like it had been in a war. She scrunched her eyes closed and tried to take deep, calming breaths.
‘Closing your eyes won’t make this disappear,’ came the man’s deep, strangely soothing voice.
Mapule’s eyes popped open. ‘Look, I am really sorry,’ she tried again. She noticed for the first time that he was quite handsome. Strong, even features, a proud nose, short neat hair, tall enough that she had to squint up to look him in the eye.
‘Do you have insurance?’ he asked again in that deep smooth voice.
‘Er, no,’ squeaked Mapule. Her car was so old and rusted that insurance was a waste of money. And this was Mapule’s first accident, she was usually an excellent driver. But getting lost on the way to work, the crazy traffic and crazier taxi drivers had sent her into a panic.
Just two kilometres away from the hotel, her luck had run out.
One second of taking her eyes off the road to grab her ringing phone had led to her crunching into the bakkie that had turned in from the other side of the small dirt road that trekked up to the hotel. The noise of metal scraping metal had scared her even more and she’d stepped on the accelerator by accident – crunching even harder into the bakkie.
When she finally stopped accelerating in panic and her breathing had returned to normal, the handsome, angry man had been knocking furiously at her window, yelling, ‘What is wrong with you?’
Ten minutes later they were still arguing. He seemed incapable of understanding that obviously she hadn’t meant to drive into his car. She looked at her watch and realised that she was now late
on her first day. Of course.
‘Look, here’s my number.’ Grabbing his hand, she ignored his shocked expression as she scribbled her number. ‘I am late for my first day here,’ she jerked her head toward the hotel, ‘so I can’t stand here anymore and argue. Phone me and we can figure out how to sort this out. I’ll just have to pay you out of my pocket.’ She dropped his hand, flashed him a weak smile and smoothed down her hair. ‘Bye! Sorry agai