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    Gone to Earth
    Gone to Earth
    Gone to Earth
    Ebook92 pages53 minutes

    Gone to Earth

    By Bonga Zondo

    ()

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    About this ebook

    People of Thornlands are surrounded by crime, unemployment and poverty. Thulani Mthimkhulu struggles to raise himself out of the hopelessness that surrounds him. Thulani is at a crossroads. One way leads to a life of crime and the other leads to continuous hunger pangs. Although the township Thornlands is imaginary, it could be based on the author's own experiences.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherFelicty Keats Morrison
    Release dateAug 4, 2012
    ISBN9781476249568
    Gone to Earth

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      Book preview

      Gone to Earth - Bonga Zondo

      GONE TO EARTH

      by

      BONGA ZONDO

      Smashwords Edition

      Text Copyright 2012 Bonga Zondi

      and UmSinsi Press

      Acknowledgment

      Thanks to

      Independent Newspapers Community Projects for financial assistance towards the cost of publishing this book.

      Dedication

      This book is dedicated to the loving memory of my late cousin, Kwazi Nkawana Zondo.

      CHAPTER ONE

      The month of May was four weeks old. As Thulani Mthimkhulu threw his shy, admiring glance above, two clouds were scrambling over the sky. A few swallows were twittering as they passed over KwaNdengezi station. Passengers had rushed out of the train laden with various items.

      He raised his hand to scratch at his cluster of eyelashes as if the waning of the Friday's sun was piercing his eyes. On the vibrating platform, he stood to witness the performance of the staff-riders. His short hair was tidy and well combed, his face shining from sunflower cooking oil. Black spots had swarmed over his face, spoiling his fair complexion. His nose was typical of any Zulu boy, and his teeth were beginning to lose their original colour. His thick lips pouted to form a reluctant mouth. He was neither tall nor short in stature.

      The train conductor blew his whistle. As metal wheels were ready to roar on, hoodlums whistled agreeably in the air and the congested train began to glide out of the station. One of the staff riders, who had been badgering a girl a few seconds ago, was still counting the coaches as they came rushing by. He gripped the door-handle and juggled his feet on the platform. Two plumpish women who were engaged in a fervent conversation in front of Thulani paused in sudden panic and covered their eyes with their hands to avoid seeing what might become a gruesome scene. However, having quickly assessed the velocity of the train, the staff-rider leapt into the train. Prolonged ululation and whistling from the women, and shouts of appreciation from the hoodlums, impregnated the air.

      You live in Thornlands, don't you? a scar-faced young man who was sprucely dressed, said.

      Thulani Mthimkhulu gave a faint nod.

      I understand Belinda is your sister, and you are…? He paused for a response.

      Thula. His reluctant mouth unlocked in a characteristic mellowness.

      Well, I'm Max. I think you know me.

      Thulani nodded in agreement.

      There was a string of people trudging up the narrow path to the huge houses of KwaNdegezi extension. The duo could not deviate to the narrow path and instead they walked straight down the platform. They abandoned the platform to walk between the parallel rails.

      So, how's life? asked Max, stealing a look at Thulani out of the corner of his left eye.

      To avoid many questions, I would say its fine. He smiled.

      Oh, I see. said Max smiling back.

      Come on, you know how things are these days and … Thulani was interrupted by a roguish dog who loped across the railway lines with a half loaf of bread dangling from his mouth, to disappear into the forest semi-circling Thornlands.

      As they progressed, they came across a mongrel that had been smashed by the train. His brown fur had been peeled off by the merciless wheels. His broken ribs and entrails were exposed. Blood was still spurting out from his smashed head.

      The duo abandoned the scene. Then they began to talk about their country. They spoke about the black president and the inclusion of blacks in parliament. They spoke about the violence that had vanished. They spoke about the dignity that the government had restored of black people. They spoke about apartheid, which was now history. They talked about poverty that was rife. They talked about the high rate of crime. They talked about retrenchment, and the increasing rate of unemployment. They spoke about promised jobs, which were not there. They spoke about the good and the bad. They spoke about the government's empty hopes and unrealised dreams. Then they both agreed to give the government some time as it was still in its infancy. They gave each other hope for a better tomorrow, a better life, a better Thornlands.

      As they were about to finish their conversation, Thornlands appeared a short distance away. Thornlands was less than five kilometres from Marianhill as the crow flew. It was nestled in a fertile part of KwaZulu Natal, between KwaNdengezi and Delville station. On rainy days, Thornlands streets turned red and became cracked and muddy. Rain warbled on the galvanized roof. It dribbled like apples and oranges on the poorly placed roofs. Mountainous waste problems polluted the surrounding soil. Children played in the rain, squelching their bare feet in the cold mud. Squatters sought their illegitimate partners, whilst whores fried their hair in boiling oil to hunt for salacious men. Broken families huddled around homemade perilous fires and vagrants gathered under the huge umdoni tree.

      After the rain had satisfied itself, it fled, leaving trampled carcasses of frogs decorating the streets. It left the muffled smells of dogs' and kids' faeces and the whole of Thornlands sodden.

      During dog days, sun caressed the streets with its fingers, returning them to their original colour. Surrounding forest panted under the ferocious heat and muscular rays cracked even the most obstinate rock. Shit sizzled in the fly-infested pit-toilet, causing poisonous smells. Crooks stood at street corners to await the local girls.

      People stirred on the round planet. The earth rotated on its axis from west to east, giving numerous births and deaths of days, granting many births and deaths of nights. As the world slowly whirled, Thornlands became worse than before. People here lived in the secret bowel of the earth. They were unique. Distance lent enchantment to the view, as Thornlands looked quiet from afar. Instead, Thornlands suffered insomnia. This was a place that never went to sleep. A place where there was no dearth of news. As the earth whirled, each day in Thornlands died with its own ugly headlines. In fact, every street and every corner had its own news for the day.

      Those who had broken away from their families came to this place and erected one-day shacks. People, in search of better opportunities in town, came to this place for settlement. Those who had been rejected by their communities, settled to this place, dying with shame inside. All those who were either failures, or were ashamed of past deeds, scurried to Thornlands to hide their disgraceful pasts. Thornlands, like the earth itself, accommodated everyone. It gave its dry air to everyone living in it. It provided everyone with the sun to bask in and offered its rain to everyone.

      Max muttered his goodbye to Thulani before he increased his pace to enter the rowdy Thornlands. The streets of Thornlands had a common feature. They were all of them gutted, pockmarked with the awful dregs of liquor blobs, and scattered with broken bottles, stones, cartons and plastic containers stuck with long decayed food.

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