CHAPTER 6
WHAT A BEAUTY
I woke up way after ten in the morning after which I went to the sitting room where I saw Bongani watching some news. “I was waiting for you to wake up. Dumisani went to work, he gave me these two tickets.” said Bongani as he adjusted the volume of the television. “Morning, tickets for what.” I asked looking all confused. “To the cricket game Zimbabwe against South Africa. There were complementary tickets.” replied Bongani. Absa were the main sponsors of the South African cricket team and Dumisani worked there as a marketing officer, so through Absa’s connection with the Cricket South Africa some of the marketing team were given tickets for the one of twenty-twenty match between Zimbabwe and South Africa. “Do you know how to get to the ground, anyways what time is this match?” I asked “It’s starting at 5 pm today. Dumisani left me some money and also instructed me on how to get to the ground.” “Did you call home yet?” I asked. “I just spoke to my mother and told her we arrived safely. Dumisani said you are free to use the landline.” So I phoned my mother and informed her of my safe journey I could tell by the tone of her voice that she was a bit worried about me. We sat and watched the television. We left for the Wanderers Cricket Ground at around 2 pm were the match was been played. It was a hot summer’s day so we dressed to the weather we both wore shorts and sandals. Even in the night temperatures did not deep that much. The match was a day and night game. Dumisani had called Bongani that he was going to drive straight to the cricket ground after work. We were one of the first people to enter into the ground as time passed on people began to fill the ground. The match was sold off two days earlier. We sat on the grass embankments as we enjoyed our quarts of South African brewed Castle Lager beer. Zimbabwe came out to bat first after 8 overs and were sitting on 78 runs for the loss of three wickets. Dale Steyn, the Phalaborwa Express as he is nicknamed by the fans, came running down the track as he delivered a 145km/hr delivery to the hard hitting Zimbabwean all-rounder Elton Chigumbura. The Zimbabwean batsman lashed onto the ball and produced a strong straight drive. The ball went high into the sky and I kept my attention on the ball which landed in the hands of a fan, standing about 4 meters away from where I was. I quickly turned my attention from the fan to a lady standing near the guy who had caught the ball. The lady was wearing a bikini top, sandals and had a sarong wrapped around her from the waist downwards. I couldn’t remove my eyes from the lady who had silky dark hair tied in a ponytail, a nice tanned brown skin, a drop dead body structure with a face to die for. She was the epitome and true embodiment of beauty. This lady was a revelation and living testimony to the infinity artistic capabilities of nature. Everything on her seemed to be in perfect alignment and symmetry from head to the toes. She had alluring beauty. This lady was that type that would tell a man to jump in a bed full of scorpions and one would jump without hesitation. For about a minute I wasn’t concentrating on the match as I was rather spellbound and engrossed in the beauty specimen. I then moved my attention back to the game, a few minutes later I decided to tell Bongani about the stunning lady I had seen. “Bongani, look there,” I said pointing in the direction the lady was in. “What’s special about those guys?” asked Bongani. “But I am sure that there was a girl there.” I replied. “Was, is a past tense. There is no girl there.” “You should have seen. That girl is.” I said as I took a pause trying to figure a word that would best describe the shear splendour and gorgeousness of the lady. “You are even out of words. She sure is something special.” Just as I was about to say something, Bongani’s phone began to ring. After a few minutes Bongani hang up the call. “That was Dumisani, he says he has arrived at the ground.” “You told him were we are sitting at?” I asked. “Yes, I told him.” “Where did you get a line from?” I asked. “I am still using my line from Zimbabwe it’s on roaming, I am moving with technology.” The atmosphere in the ground was exhilarating. Over twenty thousand fans were crammed into the ground. When people say sports unites people that’s no fallacy because I witnessed it first hand, white, coloured, Indian and blacks all were singing in harmony. I really got all emotionally during the Mexican wave. It was just a huge cluster of people from different creeds, social status and races holding each other. The wave was just perfect for a moment I forgot my troubles I had that joy, that happiness that I had been lingering for. Even if the happiness was going to last for a few hours it was worth it. I was so caught in the moment I began to sing along to some of the Afrikaans and Zulu songs I didn’t even understand. The ground was filled with jubilation. The ground was filled to the rafters with well over 30000 people in attendance. We were now watching the match with Dumisani. The match on itself was riveting and the match went right to the wire as it had to be decided by the last ball. Needing 6 runs to win from the last ball with a wicket in hand South African all-rounder Jacques Kallis smashed the ball for 6 and South Africa won the match by a wicket. It could only best be described as a cruel defeat for a Zimbabwean team that had played their hearts out. I was heartbroken that my team had lost but I was on cloud nine, I was just in a rapture of delight. This was the first time I was truly happy since the death of my father. Dumisani then took us for supper at a restaurant in the Design District of Rosebank. The name of the restaurant was Matisse. It specialises in French inspired culinary. Matisse is situated at the periphery of Design District. We entered into the restaurant which was just over half full. A nice aroma swept through the restaurant which was lit by beautiful golden chandeliers, with glossy ceramic tiles covering the walls and a stunning Pegasus tiled floor which created an exquisite outlook. The tables were glistening and were made out of pure Mukwa wood. We sat 3 tables away from the entrance. The restaurant which was on the 3rd floor had a 270 degree view of the Design District. You could see the bright lights of the houses which lay in the near vicinity which made the view more awe-inspiring. In the background laid back jazz tunes were being played which had a soothing effect on the mind. So we ordered our meals. Out of inquisitiveness, I ate a meal delightfully named a canard. I didn’t know that a canard is a duck, but I enjoyed the meal. The last time I had eat a three meal course was in high school when as a prefect I was part of the prefects, who went to training at a local lodge. The difference between that experience and now was that the food at Matisse was exotic. “Merci.” I said. “You are welcome.” replied Dumisani. “Eating French food has made you to speak French.” said Bongani as he wiped his mouth with a servant. “That’s the only word of French I know.” I said. At that particular moment a white guy clad in black tuxedo knelt on his knees and proposed to a white lady who was dressed in a shiny silk strapless red dress and red strappy high heels. The way the lady reacted showed she was astounded and at the same time happy. It was a straight yes from the lady who started to shed tears. “Are you going to get married?” I asked. “Not anytime soon.” replied Dumisani. “As for me no, marriage is a huge leap and I just want to make sure the girl I marry is the right one. What about you?” asked Bongani. “I agree with Bongani, I will take my time.” I said. We started discussing about marriage how it turned it something which resembled child’s play. Marriage nowadays was comical and people divorced each other within months of marriage which was just preposterous. People divorcing each other were usually involved in gory fights for children. At one point in time in our discussion Dumisani changed his stanza about marrying anyone. He argued that marrying someone whom he would divorce and have to share things with was just ludicrous. Dumisani told us he would rather co habit with a girl without paying lobola or asking for her hand in marriage because he thought it was easier to cohabit. He told us co habitation was less stressful than going through the whole divorce procedure. So the discussion soon turned into a religious debate, Bongani and I advocating for marriage whilst Dumisani stuck to his guns about cohabitation. We decided to go the bar which adjoined the Matisse to play some darts. The debate cooled of as we concentrated on the darts. We played two rounds of darts all of which I received the wooden spoon and both Dumisani and Bongani had a win each. Maybe I had found that happiness I was searching for or maybe it was just a passing phase.