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letra de zoo city, 18 (part 2) - lauren beukes

“this is baba dumusami ndebele, sangoma,” the young woman says, indicating the huge man built like a pro-rugby player kneeling on a reed mat in the centre of the cement floor. he is wearing a white vest and red apr-n, with a leopard skin tied over it and a matching leopard band across his forehead. his head is shaved and shiny with sweat. it is much hotter in here without the fan. i notice there’s a d&g logo on his vest, so subtle as to the real makhoya. fong kong goods tend to shout their fake logos as loud as they can. so much for the simple life of serving the spirits of the ancestors

“thokoza khehla,” i say in greeting to the spirits, more out of some residual deference to my mother than anything i might feel myself

“thokoza,” dumisani replies and sneezes several times. “my dlozi has told me about you.” he waggles his cell phone, a brand new iphone, significantly. “he tells me you do not want to be here,”

“i didn’t know the ancestors were smsing now.”

“no, he calls me. the spirits find it easier with technology. it’s not so clogged as human minds.” he taps his head for emphasis. “the still like rivers and oceans most of all, but data is like water — the spirits can move through it. that’s why you get a pr-ckly feeling around cellphone towers.”

“and here i thought it was the radiation.” i know i’m being disrespectful, but i can’t resist. “so is there a spirit world mtn? what are the tariffs like? i bet you get a lot of ‘please call me’s.'”

“hayibo, sisi. so cynical, and you with a shavi. what your mother say?”

i flinch. lucky guess

- lauren beukes

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