CHAPTER FOUR

Gilberto Gil Tshwene was behind the wheel of his just-acquired car. He had passed all the police checkpoints with ease. Because it was the early hours of the morning, the ‘freaks,’ as he liked to refer to the police, slept on duty and therefore were not in sight to bother him. He hoped to come across no more checkpoints or a roadblock. He stopped by a village the size of or smaller than Rakops and bought some fuel at the tiny local gas station. He then checked the tires before hitting the road. He followed the road to the east; the sign indicated the distance to Francistown. He sighed in relief at the thought of heading to the country’s second city. Ten kilometers away from Francistown, he stopped to take a leak. He had covered a lot of ground in the past forty-five minutes. He liked the Z4, immensely. It gave him the comfort to go up to any speed he wanted. The ‘Beast’, as he lovingly called it, was indeed designed for the race.

That’s the place. He looked at the sign and smiled. Only ten kilometers away. He thought as he strode back to the car. I have made it, or am I counting my chicks before they hatch? Maybe I am being followed. That last thought made him rush to the car.

The speedometer read160km/h…he wanted to arrive. After eight and a half kilometers a billboard that read ‘welcome’ appeared…he went past the airport, then the stadium which was still under construction. The stadium had been deemed to become the best in the country, an impressive achievement by the sporting sector. Speculations in some local newspapers, however, insisted that the stadium was falling apart and was far from completion.

Some even reported that the constructors had no relevant background in the construction of infrastructure of that caliber…which begged the question of how the issuing of the tender was done. It is high time some auditing is done and a proper report is given to the nation before corruption destroys our beautiful democracy.

After the stadium, the first residential houses appeared…he reduced the speed to nearly 40km/h. He checked his watch.

10:00

He was nervous. Being nervous wouldn’t be of much help—if any, he mused. He had, by all means, to keep his cool if he wanted to avoid the worst. He needed to have his wits about him if he was to drive in such a congested road.

He kept a distance between him and the car in front of him; in fact, he was using it as a navigator. The last time he visited the city was ten years back. He was on a school trip…but then they used the East- A1 road to access the city. They were from the mother city, the capital of Botswana, Gaborone. Entering Francistown from the other side means they had to use the cars in front as navigators. The car paused as the traffic lights went red. He halted behind it.

A minute passed and the lights changed back from red to green, signaling them to continue with their journey. A billboard overhead read “CITY CENTRE.” He followed the road, past Toyota motors, and the fly-over. He turned right into the bus rank. The bus rank was untidy, with a lot of movement of both people and vehicles…a large building of two stories stood at the center of the rank. He drove at a snail pace searching for a parking lot; he found it after a couple of turns and reverses. He turned the ignition off and locked the car as he disembarked. He paused and breathed in the different air and took in the atmosphere before he started searching for a place to eat. He asked a young lady for directions. It had been nearly ten years since he last visited the place.

She directed him to the nearby pizza shop. He thanked her and headed to the shop. After ordering a medium Mexican pizza, he occupied the empty chair at the rear end of the small shop. He ate the pizza slowly, his mind at ease.

The mid-noon news was being broadcasted both on local television and radio stations…he listened with much interest. He was relieved when nothing was reported about the break-in. For now, he could relax. He finished the meal, settled the bill, and left the shop. In his tour of the mall, he marveled at the shops, restaurants, bottle stores, and a couple of Chinese shops.

In the past five or so years the influx of the Chinese had been extremely high and their population was fast growing in Botswana. Their arrival had birthed a heated debate at Parliament, of which some MPs felt the former’s prevalence was hindering the business opportunities of the locals.

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Jane was granted a day off from work and Rose drove her home, promising to check on her after work. She nodded in response, and it dawned on her that the nodding, shrugging, and shaking her head was now the main form of communication for her. She stayed in her living room all day long. She watched the mid-noon news; there was nothing about the break-in. She hoped the evening news would inform the nation as soon as possible about her stolen car.

Evening came but there was nothing again. That was the disadvantage of living in a rural area: it takes longer for information to reach other places. She thought maybe it was still too early for it to be broadcasted. She assured herself that it would be done the following day.

There was a knock…she rose and opened the door.

“Anything on TV or Radio?” Rose asked her after handing her the meal she had brought for her. She made a quick scrutiny of her friend. This incident had taken its toll on her; her emotions shifted between anxiety, anger, and self-blame. Rose resolved to stay mum about what she thought her friend was going through, not because she did not want to confront her about it, but because rubbing salt into her wounds was the last thing she wanted.

“Nope,” at least she could talk, thought Rose.

“Okay, maybe tomorrow, I think it’s still early.” Her eyes were fixed on Jane. They talked about the incident for a long time and it seemed Jane was slowly breaking out of her shell of trauma. They hoped the police would find the perpetrator and justice would take its course. And it was a good sign that despite her being messed up, Jane was at least opening up about the incident…though she blamed herself for opening the door to that monster.

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After exploring Nswazwi mall, Gil crossed over to Galo Mall for a short tour of it too. Something reminded him that he was exhausted and sleepy.

He lifted his face to the clear blue skies; from the current position of the sun, he could tell it was somewhere around 1600. He had not slept a wink for almost two days now. He scoured the mall to find the men’s restrooms, pushed the door open, and peered in both directions before proceeding.

He closed and locked the door of the tiny squared toilets. He carefully removed the envelope from his shirt’s front pocket, counted out about two thousand Pulas, and pressed the notes carefully in his wallet. He placed the envelope back in his shirt.

He left the restrooms in search of an Inn or a guesthouse. He walked a few meters away from Galo, to the east side of the Pizza house. He found an Inn “The City Center Inn” and marched in, pulling open the door to the reception. The wide smile of a fine-looking young lady welcomed him. For heart attack was enthralled.

“Yes sir, what can I do for you?” The receptionist, perhaps in her mid-twenties, attended to Gil at the reception desk. Gil gave no response, still captivated by the girl’s beauty. She repeated the question.

“Can I book you a room?” He nodded to the question, eyes still fixed on her.

“We have…” she paused as she flicked the pages of the check-in book, in search of available rooms. “…We have two available for platinum and silver.” She ran her fingers on the list.

“Give me silver, please.” “P450, 00 per night.”

“Okay.” He forked out five hundred Pula from his wallet and gave it to the lady. He took a long tour around the reception room with his eyes before he finally rested them on the receptionist again, who was now handing him the change. He froze with his extended hand halfway, drew it back, and rested it on his pocket. “Here is your change, Sir,” she offered. Gil gazed, this time past the extended hand that was holding his change. He looked her in the eyes, forcing their eyes to meet. A solid gaze, for a couple of seconds—until she returned her gaze to what she’d been doing. She involuntarily picked a pen and slipped a few pages in the check-in book, anything she could to try and busy herself with something else.

“You can keep it. I don’t need it that much.” Gil’s coaxing voice echoed the tiny interior of the reception room. “May I have a glass of water, please?” He requested before she could respond to his first statement. Blushing, she rose, took a glass from the cabinet, and dashed behind the tiny door at the rear of the room. A moment later she returned with a glass of water and handed it to Gil, who took a few sips before emptying the glass. He handed it back. “Thank you for the water,” he said in a teasing voice. Can I now be shown to my room?” He calmly demanded. Room service was called.

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Engulfed by tall buildings, in the heart of the city center is the City Inn guesthouse. To its right is the four-story Attorney General building, and opposite it just across the road is the Central Police Station. To the left and behind are different industrial sites, like PG glass. Waiting in the fairly conducive reception room that formed the eight-roomed City Inn, he waited for the usher to take him to his room. A young man attended to him. He read his nametag, a strange and hard-to-pronounce name was printed there. He ignored the name. It mattered less who was ushering him. The young man was somewhere around his age.

They exchanged greetings…the usher whispered something to him and he followed him to his room. The usher unlocked the room and waved Gil in. He gave him the electronic tag. The room was ever so small but it was okay for a single person…a large bed stood in the center. At one corner was a TV set, a decoder, and a disc player. He thought the room was just fine. Plus it had an air-conditioning system. He thanked the young man and gave him loose change from his earlier purchases as a tip. The latter smiled at the tip and thanked him; he waved and went back to continue his work.

Gil switched the TV on to watch the late news, but he had missed them. He wondered if they had already reported the incident. What if one of the two attendants had identified him? He was just less than a kilometer away from a police station. He folded his arms and prayed:

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall fear no evil, even when I walk through the shadow of death, I should trust in Him, so lord I know that I have sinned, but you should lead me through thick and thin, for am your son too, Amen.”