CHAPTER ONE
Night crept in slowly as the sun descended to its resting place, the western horizon. Its dying rays enlarged the shadow of the only tree in front of Gil’s house, and the whole circumference of the shack was engulfed by a monster shadow.
The room was nothing short of shabby, made from corrugated iron, then patched here and there with some plastic. The structure was meant to protect him from the harsh conditions imposed by the unpredictable weather he was subjected to. At times the temperatures reached somewhere above forty by day and below zero by night. The kind of life he was living was depressive. He let his mind wander down memory lane to the huge, well-furnished house with a fireplace. The sweet voice of his mother echoed somewhere in his thoughts, calling him for supper. Well, that was all in the past; he had to face the present.
Looking at the skies from under his tree, Gilberto was not at all worried about the conditions of the weather, or those of his house, but felt rather much unsettled by the deplorable life he was living. Tilting his head further back to examine the weather; the skies were blue and clear, no clouds and definitely no sign of change. His gut told him there was not going to be any change at all, despite the weather’s unpredictable nature, akin to life itself. He rose and dusted his only blanket. He had only a blanket, two tattered sheets, a pillow, and a mattress. He crawled into his room to prepare for the night, carefully spreading the sheets and the blanket, respectively, across the mattress, which was now cardboard thin. It had been in use since the death of his family, some seven years back.
The thought of his family took his mind back, and an unchecked tear rolled down the length of his cheek. They—his father, mother, younger brother, and sister—were all returning from a holiday trip from Kasane on the 19th of June 2004. The memories came back flooding and his fairly large hands hung limply from his frail body; head bowed as his tears started to form a puddle on the scruffy floor. On their way back from the trip, a brusque voice, a voice he had never heard before but would surely remember for the rest of his miserable life, narrated the horrific crash his family had suffered on their way back from Kasane. “Amidst a dense fog, as your father navigated the car around abend, a loaded lorry appeared at a distance, just a few miles ahead of them. For a moment there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary, until, in the blink of an eye, the lorry driver lost control. As both vehicles tried to avoid each other, their wheels had a hard time gripping the tarred road, succeeding in the previous night’s heavy rains. The only eye-witness, who happens to be the driver of the lorry, submitted to the police that your father’s car skidded out of control, overturned and rolled perhaps three or four times before it came to rest meters away.” He was lucky enough to have escaped the crash himself, considering that his lorry had veered off the road. The thick trees that aligned themselves along the road provided a lean to the lorry, stopping it from overturning.
He was informed that the police arrived an hour or so after the crash, closely followed by the ambulance. The bodies, all four, were loaded on the ambulance, to be medically examined, but from the naked eyes, everyone could tell that they were just mere bodies without souls. An autopsy was done and they were certified dead.
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He raised his head, looking up as if in prayer. He searched for the matches, found one, and let the last piece of a candle. A rainbow formed in his eyes as they met the beam of light from the candle. He had been doing his last year of Cambridge when his family perished. He recalled being summoned to the headmaster’s office the morning after the crash. It was not uncommon in their school to be called by the school head, and every time it was either for poor grades or outstanding school fees. For him, school fees were of less concern as his father had paid an upfront fee for the entire two years. This made him wonder what the issue might be as he had been doing extremely well in his academics too. Maybe his parents had come to see him. That would be an uncanny surprise, as they normally called him before paying any visit to the school. He rushed to the headmaster’s door and knocked. As a voice from the inside acknowledged his knock; he slowly swung the door open.
In front of a huge mahogany table, the headmaster was seated with piles of paperwork in front of him as always, his computer on stand-by mode, and the telephone rang but was ignored. Adding to his confusion was the tension he could feel in the tiny office. The faces in the room wore sorrow. He sensed the pain they were all in, and he wondered what could have happened. His heart skipped a bit when he recalled that his family was out in Kasane for a holiday. Are they all alright? He quizzed his inner self. Maybe… He brushed the maybe aside, what a wicked thought! His eyes met those of his uncles, Shaani and Albert, but they did not seem pleased to see him.
They had bloodshot eyes. There was a moment of awkward silence, and all the while he wondered what could have happened to his uncles. Why do they look so sad? He swallowed hard after weighing all the possibilities that might link up to the pain his uncles were in. He felt his body start to shiver and heat up all at the same time. What bad had happened? he mused.
Mr. Theoyame, the school head, cleared his throat, perhaps to say something, but he choked and paused for a moment—words had failed him. That heightened Gil’s panic, and with that anxiety, he waited for either of them to say something. At least his worry would ease up a bit if they could just speak! Theo swallowed again and hard this time. After fixing a stare at Gil for a couple of seconds, he started, “My boy…I do not know how to put this; it is very hard to put into words…” then another paused.
Gil was under a tornado of panic, he opened his mouth to say something but the headmaster continued. “As you are aware, your family, last week if I am precise, went on a journey of leisure to Kasane. Unfortunately, on their way back from that trip they had...an accident.” Something struck him, very hard at that, and he froze while struggling to keep his calm at the same time. And not to prematurely think what the next words might be, but he found no other reason why he should not think of the worst. It was all written in the faces of the men inside that conducive and rather a tiny office, nevertheless, he waited for the School Head to finish. Mr. Theo, as the students shortened his name to, tried to be strong but his emotions failed him. A tear rolled down one cheek and fell onto his paper. As per Gil’s beliefs, a man didn’t just have a tear rolling down unless he was in immense pain, most likely from a huge loss. Gil knew that the news was not going to be good at all, but he hoped for only one thing…he hoped they were not dead.
Amid mixed thoughts and emotions, the headmaster’s voice echoed as if they were coming from a deep cave. “I mean they were involved in a car crash Gilberto, a terrible one and there is no better way to say this but that they all perished.” Gil stared at the ceiling, and the clean white ceiling, just like in magical movies, turned black. After a futile attempt at wiping his tears, eventually, the sobbing started. A huge force of emotion shook Gil, and he almost choked but managed to hold it back right before he collapsed onto the arms of his uncles.
He was admitted to the hospital and discharged later in the afternoon. The darkness in the room disturbed his thoughts; the candle had faded away. He changed his sitting posture, supporting his back against the wall. Stretching out an arm and groping in the darkness, he searched for some bread debris from the previous day. He just hoped and wished the mouse or whatever rodent he shared the room with had not helped itself to them. Luckily he found them and immediately tossed the crisps into his mouth.
“Today we are all gathered here to lay the Tshwene family to their last resting places: Mr. and Mrs. Tshwene, son William, and daughter Keneilwe. May their souls rest in peace.” Those had been the words of the pastor who was conducting the burial service.
He tossed the remaining pieces away and rolled over, trying to force asleep and block his mind from wading away into those sorrowful memories. Sleep eluded him. He tossed and turned for hours, but still no sleep.
“All the Tshwenes' belongings and assets are officially being handed to the only surviving son, Gilberto Tshwene.” The voice echoed the words louder into his ears. The house, two cars—a Toyota Camry and a Mazda van—and the bankcards were all given to him.
A cockerel disturbed his haunting memories. He guessed the time to be three-thirty in the morning. He was too lazy and too sleepy to check his wristwatch. It was habitual for him to not check his watch at all. His past continued to haunt him. Five months after the passing of his family in November, a blue van had parked at the gate of his yard, releasing a young man and a lady who knocked and were duly welcomed. He was hoping they were there to bring the ‘royalties’ of the deceased. He’d been shocked when they introduced themselves to him.
“Mr. Tshwene, we are debt collectors.” That was the introduction, sharp as a blade, and he felt as if his spine was splitting into two. Debt collectors: the words looped in his head. A chill went down his entire body. Was he about to face another tragedy? He hoped not and prayed that if so, it should at least be a minimal loss. He nodded in acknowledgment.
“We are here to collect the monies that your father, your family rather, owed to the banks and other institutions.” They handed him a signed piece of paperwork from the sheriffs, proof of what they were claiming to be. Beneath the cover paper were the other two sheets. They contained along with a list of debts. He ran quick calculations of what was left in the accounts, and judging from the calculations, it wouldn’t be enough to cover the entire debt.
The pain of the past few months had managed to squeeze itself back into him. He was still dealing with the loss of his family, and now he was on the verge of losing the entire property to these two coldhearted-looking creatures. He’d lost his family, and now he was losing whatever memory of them he had. He felt like he was condemned to a life of suffering. He was being made into an outcast of it—a complete rejection of life. And on a much clear perspective, without what his parents had left for him he would have no life in particular.
He was puzzled, shocked, and confused. He tried to explain to them that he neither knew anything at all about the debts nor had he the money to settle all that was owed. They listened, and humanely sympathized with him. “…but we are just doing our job; our hands are tied in this,” with pity they told him. They informed him that they would be back to auction the property, said their goodbyes, and left.
The thought of his possessions being auctioned stressed him. If they were serious about auctioning his property, of which he was sure they were. It would mean that he’d be left poor and homeless as he survived merely on what his parents had left behind. A huge amount of money had been used to cover funeral costs. And rightfully so; burying four people was bound to cost an arm and a leg.
Tears started dripping as he wondered what he had done to deserve all his misfortunes. How could people be so insensitive? How could they be so cruel? All his questions were in vain. After all, they were right; they were just doing their job.
He was getting cold now as the darkness started to clear, slowly giving way to dawn. As the tormenting thoughts about his family and life intensified, he slipped under the blanket. Friday 21st November, his unpleasant reminiscence resumed, the same van was parked on the same spot. Nothing had changed, from the van to the same people in uniform carrying files. They talked to him briefly and handed him the legal documents, which allowed them to put whatever the Tshwenes owned up for auction. In the blink of an eye, he was homeless and poor.
He was left in a daze. He recalled when life was good with two parents who took good care of him, siblings who admired and looked up to him. He was doing excellently at school with a bright future ahead of him. Now it seemed like it had been a lifetime ago. He moved out of the place he once called home and set up his current shelter where his grandparents used to stay, and as years went by he became poorer, struggling to clothe let alone feed himself. He was all alone with no known relative to turn to.