A Terrible Price to Pay

My life turned upside-down when my father died in September 2004. He was a breadwinner who made a living from farming in Zabeida. This is a small village in the rural town of Butterworth, South Africa.

As his only son with no siblings, my father was my last hope. When he passed on I was 18 years old in twelfth grade. He used to slaughter a sheep on month-ends when he got paid. After his funeral, a childhood friend who was four years older than me, called me aside.

"Solomzi, I know how you feel since your father is no more," said Bandile. "Death always strikes when it is least expected, and that doesn't mean it's the end of the world. You must be strong, everything is going to be alright," he comforted my soul.

"Thanks for your kind words Bandile, you've always been like a brother to me for as long as I can remember." "Since you're mentioning brotherhood, I've got good news for you," Bandile replied.

"What's that about?" I asked.

He told me there was a vacant post for a security guard where Bandile worked. It was based in the city of Johannesburg, about 4980 kilometers from Zabeida. His boss was looking for someone to secure the post.

"I thought of you so that you can make a living, just like your dad did." "Wow! That would be great," I said, and grabbed the opportunity.

On the third day after Bandile told me about the job, we departed for Johannesburg. In the 'City of Gold', he was renting a backyard room where he accommodated me.

It was on a Wednesday when I started my new job, and the sorrow for my father's passing was gone. I was getting paid R5000 a month and contributed half the rent money, which was R2000 per month. With my first pay I bought Bandile a camera as a present. And took him out to the cinema, to show appreciation for having made me an independent young man.

In December we were both on leave and we went back to our village, to spent the holiday there.

On 19 April 2005, my blossom friend went to the city to buy groceries, and was knocked down by a speeding car. The accident was caused by a negligent driver who had jumped red traffic lights. He was declared dead on the spot.

I took a special leave from work in order to attend Bandile's funeral in Zabeida. When his burial was over I returned back to work. Life went on as usual, but there was a huge scar in my heart that was caused by his death. After his passing going through his stuff, I came across the camera and a lot of photographs. They brought back good memories of us together when he was still alive.

One day at work the security manager Bruce Mcbright, called all the employees for an urgent meeting.

"Today, I have some bad news to tell you. Your career with this company has come to an end, because Alert Guards Security is shutting down its doors."

His announcement was received with groans, sadness and anxiety was in the air. I didn't know what to do but I came up with a plan. I wrote a brief note addressed to Mr. David Harris, who owned the security company that was contracted to a gold mine. I tried to convince him to get me a job elsewhere, as he owned multiple companies.

My attempt was to no avail.

It was June 2006 when I lost my job at South Deep Gold Mine, that led to my landlord to kick me out of his rented premises. So I ended up on the streets of Johannesburg, sleeping under a bridge and scavenging from dustbins, for two weeks. With no way to bath, I resembled a lunatic without a single friend.

I couldn't bear my state of affairs. I walked a distance of 32 kilometers heading south of Johannesburg. And there I was in Tembelihle Informal Settlement.

From shack to shack I begged for food on a daily basis. One particular day an elderly man, who had offered me something to eat, was curious to know my circumstance. After narrating my hard-luck story to him, he offered me a place to stay for as long as I wanted.

But in return for the free meals and accommodation was for me to do domestic chores. They included maintaining the yard, doing his laundry, cooking and cleaning his shack.

The 67-year-old pensioner, whose wife passed on six years ago, bought me new clothes and a cellphone. He also promised to build a shack for me so that I could have my own privacy. Trouble started the day he told me he was interested in making love to me.

I told him I needed some time to think about it. It came as a terrible shock to me, because I never expected such a thing from a Good Samaritan old enough to be my grandfather. And besides that, there was the fact that we were both men.

As a result of his behaviour, my life changed from hope to a new kind of misery. I recall the day he told me he had undying love for me. "I know, Grandpa," I said. "How do you know?" he asked. "Through the things you do for me," I said. "So what can you do in return to prove that you appreciate what I do for you?"

"Time will tell Grandpa," I said, and excused myself to go buy cigarettes.

At one point he complimented me on my 'nice bottom'. The day I'll never forget is when he sneaked into my bed as I was fast asleep. I woke up, only to find out Grandpa was busy forcing himself on me. I told him I don't like what he was doing. He apologised and went back to sleep in his bed.

After that I sought help - as I had made a couple of friends in Tembelihle - concerning my sticky situation.

"A lot of men are sharing beds in Tembelihle, why can't you?" one of them remarked. The rest of the others made a joke about it. But it wasn't something I was willing to engage in, I told them. And for this reason I chose to leave the old man's cosy environment, for better or worse.