Love's Courage (5 page)

Kenneth watches Lesego sashay away and stares at the sun painting her silhouette through the summery outfit. She perches on the stone side table and lifts her one leg to rest on its edge, drawing his gaze to where he was touching her earlier. He rubs his hands over his bald head, wishing he had hair to pull at in order to get some sense into himself. He takes a deep, steadying breath and walks over to the trestle table. When he picks up the trouble-making cable, his alarm goes off: a reminder for a meeting with Patrick at three. He'd better hurry; he still has some things to go through before then.

He strolls into the garden with his bag, pointing at his watch.

She lifts a hand for him to wait. “Papa, I have to go; I'm with the funders and I need to talk to them. Okay, all right . . . I'll phone you as soon as I'm done. Bye.” Lesego turns apologetically to him. “I'm so sorry about that, but being the primary breadwinner in my family, I have to answer all calls; you never know. I guess you're leaving now?”

“Yeah, I have a meeting.” He looks into her eyes and says, “About what just happened, I uhm . . .”

She cuts him off. “We're consenting adults; we understand the rules. It was just a momentary loss of control. We're both in a very compromising position and it wouldn't be wise. I don't want to be responsible for a scandal, or for you losing your job. After today, I know how much this country needs you and I won't be the reason for a shameful end to your career . . . I understand. It's fine. Don't worry. Okay?”

He looks at her, touched that she is thinking of him and his career and dignity. He wonders what is more important: finding out how things could develop between him and Lesego, or keeping his job? He stares at her, searching her face and finding what he is looking for: that glimpse into her true feelings, the very beginning of affection. It's fragility suddenly seems more important than life itself; he opens his mouth to speak . . .

Lesego pre-empts him again. “Kenneth, please, don't do this . . . I really like you and I really want this . . . but it's impossible. I'm trying very hard to be rational, and it's damn near killing me. Please . . . Go while you still can, while I still have my dignity, and while I still feel this little for you. Please . . .” Her voice breaking at the end is what convinces him.

He nods.

She walks back into the office and grabs the keys. They walk once again through the house and into the garage. After she has let him out, he bends over, steals one last, hard kiss, then gets into his car and drives off.

Lesego is left standing there with her fingers pressed to her mouth.

* * *

Later, as Lesego is lying on her couch, trying to watch some mind-numbing TV, the message tone goes and she reads:

It was almost the beginning of something wonderful. Kenneth.

She responds:

Yes. It would've been beautiful.

5

Lesego is on the phone to her father, making preparations for the Batshweneng cultural village: the purchasing of the land, the building of the resort and the additional media offerings. Since they still need to finalise things with Sefalana, it is left to her father to organise all of this, and they have decided that Lesego is to come home so that he can give her detailed feedback on what he has achieved.

“Ngwana'ka, I've given Tshepiso money to come home for their break, but since you will be travelling down anyway, I told her to buy a ticket to Joburg, sleep over at your house and then you two come here together. I hope that's okay?” her father says.

“Yeah, no problem, Papa. It's been a while since I saw her and it would be good to have company on the road,” she answers. “Then I may as well get the contract and bring it home so we can sign.”

“Yes, that's a good plan. All right, I have to go now; there are some things I need to take care of at the farm. Bye.”

They ring off.

* * *

Lesego and Tshepiso are driving back from the airport. Tshepiso is a chocolate version of her sister – just as beautiful, just as fit and with the same cheeky expression waiting to burst forth; it is obvious that good genes run in the family. The younger sister's eyes have a constant naughty twinkle which can very quickly turn to a flash of exasperation or anger, although right now they are glowing with happiness to be with Lesego.

“You're lucky; you'll walk straight into a job when you graduate. Your clever sister has a wonderful position waiting for you,” says Lesego as she changes lanes, getting ready to take the off-ramp from the N1 into Houghton at 11th Avenue.

“I know, but I still think it would be a terrible mistake if I came on board to run the finances of a multimillion-rand project without practical experience,” Tshepiso responds. “I mean, this project is important for us and our people, and I would hate to be the one who makes it flop.”

“Okay, I hear what you're saying,” answers Lesego as she flicks on the indicator and heads for 11th Avenue.

“Yeah, so I think I should at least get some experience,” Tshepiso insists. Her brows furrow with confusion and she asks, “Where are we going? Have you moved to Houghton? Are you already embezzling money from the project to afford your decadent lifestyle?” There is a naughty look in the younger sister's eyes.

Lesego sucks her teeth and gives an exasperated smile. “Stop being silly! I need to pick up the contract.”

She ignores her sister's incessant teasing and turns in at the Sefalana offices. Having parked the car, they walk into the reception area and on their way in – luckily or unluckily, depending on how you look at it – they bump into Kenneth.

“Hi,” Lesego says awkwardly.

“Hello,” he replies.

Tshepiso looks from one to the other and flashes an amused smile at her sister, wiggling her eyebrows. Lesego widens her eyes in reproach.

“Kenneth, this is my incorrigible sister, Tshepiso. Tshepiso, this is Kenneth Tumaole, a fund manager for Sefalana.”

He and Tshepiso shake hands and exchange pleasantries.

Then the young girl asks him, “You guys don't happen to offer internships or vac jobs for students? I'd love to gain some experience and earn a bit of cash, rather than spend the time getting fat.”

“We sure do,” Kenneth responds. “I'm not doing anything right now, and if you aren't in a hurry, I'll introduce you to our HR manager so that you can exchange details and maybe organise something.”

“Really?” Tshepiso asks, slightly taken aback.

“Sure, no problem,” Kenneth replies.

Tshepiso looks at her sister hopefully. Lesego doesn't know how to respond. She feels a little trapped, but since she is on leave and has nowhere to rush off to, she can't really refuse her sister this opportunity. She smiles in agreement, and they walk to the lifts.

The lift is full, so they have to squeeze in. Lesego's back is pressed up against Kenneth's front. They both try to move away, but get disapproving looks from the other people in the lift. Lesego flushes red and Kenneth's eyes glaze over with desire. Tshepiso looks at them and is amused. The lift stops at the floor where they need to get out, and Lesego and Kenneth are eager to do so.

“So, where did you guys meet?” Tshepiso asks cheekily.

“In a bookshop,” they both say at the same time, and then give each other a warm smile.

“Oh, so you've known each other for a long time? You haven't told me about Kenneth,” Tshepiso inquires from her sister.

“No,” Lesego answers. “I only met him about a month ago. When we met, we never suspected that we'd end up working together.” She says that with a tinge of sadness in her voice, which her sister picks up immediately. Lesego quickly recovers and covers up by saying, “Kenneth was quite arrogant and cheeky.”

“Me?” he says with mock indignation. “You were the one who was arrogant and cheeky. I see it runs in your family. My family, on the other hand, is known for their icy British politeness.”

“I thought your accent was British! How long were you there for?” Tshepiso asks.

“I basically grew up in England,” he replies. “I was born in exile after my parents escaped the apartheid police.”

“Sounds like something from a movie. I'd love to hear about it sometime.” Tshepiso smiles cheekily when her sister's eyes widen in horror.

“Well then, I'll have to get the proper details so that I can make my life story exciting,” Kenneth responds lightly.

“It's a date,” Tshepiso says with a pleased smile.

“Here we are,” he says, knocking at the door of an office with the name “Thandi Kobus” on it. They walk straight in and Kenneth says, “Thandi, are you busy? You remember Lesego, don't you?”

Thandi gives Lesego a venomous smile.

“This is Lesego's sister, Tshepiso,” Kenneth continues, unperturbed. “She's interested in joining our internship programme. I thought I'd bring her here and have the two of you exchange details.”

“Sure,” Thandi says, looking none too pleased but giving Kenneth her brightest smile. “Here's my card, Tshepiso.” She turns around to her file cabinet, searches through folders and then pulls out some papers. “These are forms you need to fill in and send back to us so that we can enter your details on the system. It's that simple.”

“Oh, that's great! Thanks, Thandi. I'll fill these in and bring them with me on my way back from home.”

Thandi gives Tshepiso a cold but polite smile. Lesego is perplexed but decides to dismiss it.

“We appreciate your help, Thandi,” Kenneth says.

“Yes, thank you,” Lesego adds.

“Well then, we'll get out of your way.” Kenneth turns to leave.

“Kenneth, can I have a private word?” Thandi asks.

He nods but says to the two sisters, “Wait for me; I'll see you out.”

Lesego and Tshepiso head out and stop in the corridor to see Thandi sidling up to Kenneth, stroking his arm, smiling coyly and practically flirting with him. The HR manager throws a triumphant look down the corridor at Lesego, who raises her eyebrows in surprise; she wasn't aware of this competition for Kenneth's attention.

“Hao!” Tshepiso exclaims in surprise. “What's up with the stick insect? Do you know each other?”

“She was at the bookshop when Kenneth and I met. He told me that she'd showed up at his house, wanting to jump his bones, so he escaped by taking her to the mall for lunch. I guess she's still interested,” Lesego says pensively.

“Oh, so you guys had a thing.”

“We almost did . . . It's a long story; I'll tell you when he's not about to catch us talking about him,” she mutters, flashing a bright smile at Kenneth as he reaches them.

“You got the contract?” he asks Lesego.

“Right here.” She shows him an envelope under her left arm.

“Okay, then I guess we should say goodbye,” he says reluctantly.

“I guess so,” Lesego says, equally miserable.

Feeling great pity for them both, Tshepiso says, “If you happen to be at Cresta shopping mall tonight, come round to the Ocean Basket. Lesego's promised me the seafood platter. I'll buy you a beer to say thanks.” Lesego can't believe what her sister is saying. She coughs to stop her, but Tshepiso ignores her. “We should be there around seven, seven-thirty. But no pressure.”

“Okay,” Kenneth replies, “I'll think about it.”

“Bye then,” Lesego says, determinedly grabbing her sister's arm and practically dragging her down the corridor. When they are a safe distance away, she whispers angrily, “What's with you? You practically invited the guy to dinner with us!”

“I know,” Tshepiso replies matter-of-factly. “I got tired of looking at you making puppy-dog eyes at each other, acting like high-school kids. I thought it would help us make a clean break from the long and lingering goodbyes.”

“You are incorrigible!” Lesego says as they get into the car. She hopes she will be able to get through dinner without looking for Kenneth all the time. She will have to make an effort to focus her gaze on her sister and not the door.

* * *

Kenneth is having his weekly lunch with his father. They always have a hefty steak and some beer, a real men's meal.

“Dad, I met this interesting young lady today. She said she'd love to hear the story of how you escaped the apartheid police and ended up in London with Mom. But then I realised that I'd never asked. What exactly happened?”

“Hêêêê! You know, son . . . Life is a strange thing. Sometimes a man needs to know when he must act, and when not to. And sometimes the choice seems difficult, but understanding what you truly need and what you must do – that is very important. And for that you have to know yourself,” Kenneth's father says pensively.

“Amazing,” Kenneth replies, slightly surprised. “My boss said exactly the same thing to me the other day, regarding some problem I'm having with a woman.”

His father smiles and then continues.

“I was young, but apartheid wouldn't allow me to be stupid. I had to make some difficult choices. Choices that I'm glad you never had to face. At twenty-two, having to make a choice between life and death is a little daunting.”

Kenneth can see the distant look in his father's eyes as his mind travels back through time.

“Your mother and I met at a PAC rally where there was talk of starting the armed struggle. She was so committed to making a difference. A passionate young thing, and gorgeous. All the young men were after her, but she seemed not to notice; I guess the Tumaole charm is potent stuff.”

They both laugh.

“We faced death every day: harassment and threats. So we had to steal life and live it fully; truly experience it. Our parents were in the magaeng and we were in the urban jungle. For those committed to freedom, there was hardly time to do normal things like propose marriage and provide magadi. But I did write to her parents and mine when I realised how deeply I felt for her, and I promised to do right by her when the time was right and I wasn't being hunted. Your mother, the loudmouthed firebrand, put on a play at the Market Theatre which mocked the state and so she became a wanted woman. She had to take off into the hills of Lehurutshe to lie low. Next thing I knew, they came after me – it was just after we had bombed one of their shopping malls. On the way to Botswana, I stopped over in Lehurutshe and picked up your mother. We made our home there for a year and a half, until the murder of Onkgopotse Tiro.

“Because of our profile, we were shipped off overseas. Then I had a choice between becoming an MK commander, or going to London with your mother to raise awareness of what was happening in other ways. She didn't believe we all had to die; she felt that some of us had the responsibility of spreading the message. Only when I looked at her at the airport, slowly walking away from me, I realised that if I let her go I would always live a half-life, and that speaking out takes as much courage as fighting to the death. I nearly didn't make it, but when I stepped through those doors in the departure lounge and joined her, your mother's smile reinforced my suspicion: The love of a good woman is almost always worth the sacrifice, and often the reward you get for loving her far exceeds the reward of personal glory.”

“Wow, Dad, that's heavy. It touches a chord deep inside me . . . How do I know when that kind of love has arrived at my doorstep?” Kenneth asks broodingly.

The father looks at his son and, realising that he is facing the same choice, he says, “She makes you feel things . . . It's like you are only beginning to discover true emotion, like you've never felt anything before.”

The old gentleman sighs melancholically and cuts into his steak.

“But what if being with her poses a danger to your ideals and your chosen path?” Kenneth asks.

“Does the benefit of the reward far outweigh the liability? What do you stand to gain? Often we think what we want is all there is, but it's only through discovering what we need that we really find out what we require. Perhaps the very thing she threatens is not something that is actually required for you to be happy . . . Anyway, once in the UK, I discovered that I needed to express myself and tell the world what was really happening. I came into my own and realised my true purpose by allowing love to lead my way, instead of letting fear and hate shepherd me down a path where I wouldn't have experienced such love. It happens to a lot of people who aren't vigilant and in their moment.”

Kenneth looks deep into his father's eyes and nods slowly.

“Be in your moment, son. Know yourself well enough to be able to tell what you need to do. But sometimes you also have to be brave enough to sacrifice an important ideal to realise a vital one.”

Father and son get back to their steaks, each of them mulling over what has been said.