CHAPTER 11
LANDSCAPER
It never rains but pours for me everything was going wrong it seems like I am destined to fail nothing is coming together. Every time I think I have found a breakthrough fate has other ideas for me. In a space of a month I had blown away two good well-paying jobs one out of my incompetence and lack of respect of global news and the other one due to reasons beyond my human control. I no longer eat well, I suffer a lot of insomnia all I can do is think and think, my blood pressure by now has sprawled way out of hand. I have a roof over me and a friend who is always encouraging me not to lose hope and a family back home who frequently phone me to give me hope. Unknown to me is that I am suffering a mental breakdown and one more misgiving can lead me on a one way path to self-destruction. After all the Shakespearean tragedy that has descended upon me I still harbour a thought that I can be well again. The only substance I can take into my body is alcohol I have become a dipsomaniac. My old man surely wouldn’t be proud to be associated with me in any way. I have turned into a drunkard. I love alcohol because it’s something I turn to for solace it doesn’t tell flimsy statements like, it’s going to be okay and that everything is a passing phase like a person would tell me. It gives me a place where everything is stress free a Utopia of my own where I don’t have to worry about tomorrow. Right now alcohol feels like it is my ticket to that happiness I have been searching for desperately because whenever I drink I forget all my problems even the inevitable hangover is not enough to deter me from drinking it feels like I am fast growing a resistance to hangovers. Almost not if all, of my so called “package” from Singh has been spent on alcohol. Alcohol, alcohol what would I be without you my dear and faithful friend I am out of words and expressions to show my gratitude towards you. Almost a month has elapsed since my sacking. I have a headache, an after effect of my binge drinking. I am laying with my shirtless torso head first on the floor in my room, I have fallen off the bed and I am too drunk to get up and go back onto the bed. The door opens up. “You have to stop this, my friend. I beg of you.” said Bongani as he took away the half empty bottle of Smirnoff Vodka in my right hand. Miraculous the bottle had not broken off when I fell off the bed. “What do you intend to do.” I said. “This is bad.” said Bongani as he tried to lift me off the floor. “I don’t care anymore you could be the president of the USA telling me to quit alcohol I wouldn’t care.” I said as I staggered to my feet with the help of Bongani. “Alcohol doesn’t solve anything. Look at yourself. I know things have gone miserably awful for you, but you are better than this.” said Bongani. “Then what can I do, I am sick and tired of everyone telling me it’s going to be alright.” I replied as I sat on the bed. “Look at me, remember what your old man said to us, we live not for ourselves but for the glory of God. Do you think the Lord is happy of how you have become.” said Bongani as he took a sat after which he said, “I know I am no saint but please my friend remember every action has a consequence.” replied Bongani as he stood up before leaving the room. Even though my line of thought was a bit clouded by alcohol I knew what Bongani was saying was true. I had to change my lifestyle because currently I was headed for doom. A week passes by and I am proud to say I have been alcohol free the whole week. Those words said by Bongani really helped me a lot. He was surely a friend indeed and he showed it in my time of need. I am trying to puzzle back the pieces of my life I had neglected during my alcoholic spree feast. I now call home as much frequent as possible. The last time I spoke to my mother she told me that electricity and the water had been cut off because of unpaid bills. My brother’s wife salary and my mother’s pension combined together wasn’t enough to pay for everything because there were other commitments. For example my younger sister had just started university education add to that the school fees of my nephews and also the mortgage of the house had to be paid. Dumisani had found job for me a friend of his had a relative of his who wanted a gardener. Though the job didn’t look fashionable I needed a job to do which would provide money for me to repatriate back home. I had to swallow the little pride I had left. The job was definitely not going to be some walk in the park. I met up with Dumisani’s friend. His is called Pieter Rossouw. I met up with Pieter whom then drove me in his Toyota Corolla to where I was going to work. Not much was said between us in the car. We arrived in a low density suburb which had magnificently built houses the streets were lined with jacaranda trees. I later discovered that the residential area was called Waterkloof a wealthy luxuriant area of Pretoria where the who’s who of Pretoria resided. We drove through Victoria street one of the most expensive streets to buy a house in South Africa. Most of the people who live in Waterkloof are of Dutch ancestry. We arrived at the place where Richard Miller the man I was going to work for resides. At the entrance to the Miller residence, stands a 2 meter electric gate and an electrified steel palisade fence with spikes on top of it. Pieter pressed the intercom after which he exchanged a few words with the person at the other end of the line in Afrikaans. The gate automatically opened up as Pieter pulled up the car into the yard. As the car drove along the brick paved driveway up to the hilltop where the house was, my attention was fixated on the well-manicured lawn. Along, the driveway stood ten lampposts, five on each side. The house stood impressively on the hilltop with a good view of the Union Buildings in the horizon. The house is a huge two story house which resembles a rustic gothic architectural influence. Near the house there is a roundabout on which stands a statue of a half clothed man looking towards the sky which is mounted inside a water fountain. I am taken aback by that sight as water flows from the mouth of the statue and up into the sky and back into the granite circular fountain. It’s something that I had once only seen in movies and American hip hop songs. The car is parked near the front door. As the engine grinds to a halt we are greeted by the sound of a barking dog. The sight of it frightens me, it’s huge and its sharp teeth are exposed as Pieter and I remain rooted to our sits in the car. A middle aged white man emerges from the front of the door, and the dog runs to him after which he pats it gently in the back as he walks towards the car. The man has a rugged look about him. He is dressed in a grey Bermuda short and his bulgy stomach is visible from the lose fitting white polo shirt he is wearing. “Pieter, how are you?” said the white middle aged man. “Fine, I was just worried that the dog of yours would rip us into pieces.” replied Pieter as he disembarked from the car. Fearing that the dog would attack me I remain sitting in the car. Pieter stands outside the car as he speaks to the white middle aged man for a few minutes. “You can come out of the car, Tinashe.” said Pieter. I climb out of the car and walk towards were Pieter and the white middle aged man are standing. “Tinashe this is Mr Miller and Richie this is Tinashe.” said Pieter. “Good Afternoon, Mr Miller.” I said. “Good Afternoon, You can just call me Richie. How are you Tinashe.” said Mr Miller. “I am fine.” I replied. “By the way you may be wondering. Richie is a shortcut of my first name Richard.” “Out of inquisitiveness what breed of dog is this.” I said as I pointed to the dog. “It’s a Boerboel, a South African bred mastiff.” replied Mr Miller. “I never liked dogs.” said Pieter. “I am the opposite of that.” said Mr Miller as he took a pause to a light a cigarette before he continued. “So you have all the necessary papers, work permit and all, with you?” asked Mr Miller. “Yes I have them here with me.” I replied. “Okay, follow me into the house, and we can discuss everything in there.” As the huge hardwood front door opened up I was rendered speechless by the sight of the hallway. Five sized lounge rooms of where I had grown up in Highfield could easily be fitted in and still leave a huge enough space to walk through. Big chandeliers were mounted on top of the ceiling which had Sistine inspired paintings. On the walls are porcelain tiles and two Renaissance enthused female portraits. A convoluted marble floor which runs the length of the hallway welcomes you as you step into the hallway. We sat in the spacious lounge were we discussed my remuneration and working conditions. After all was sorted I was shown a three roomed cottage were I was going to stay in. Though the job wasn’t something I was expecting it was way better than working for Singh, the pay here was higher even the working conditions were flexible unlike at Singh’s. So I was going to start my job tomorrow. I hope it is going to be a fresh start in life for me just like the fresh yellow lilies I am going to take care of. Basically the job encompasses taking care of the fruit trees in the orchard, feeding the dog, sweeping the yard of all leaves, maintaining and cutting the grass and hedge. After the trip around the yard, Pieter and I left the Miller residence. I arrived home before Bongani and set about preparing supper. I heard my phone ringing in the lounge and dashed over to answer it before it stopped ringing. “Hello, Bongani. How is work?” I said as I answered the phone. “Work is fine. Did everything pun out well on that side?” replied Bongani. “It was all good, the man I will be working for seems like a good guy.” I said. “That’s nice. Sorry man if you had cooked including my portion.” “You are eating out with a special someone.” I said as I sat on the sofa. Bongani had been going out with this mysterious girl for the past week. I hadn’t seen her yet, but from Bongani’s words she is a beautiful in and out. “Yes.” replied Bongani. “So you are going to keep up with the secrecy and not show me her picture or even her tell me her name.” “All in good time. Rest assured you will meet her soon.” said Bongani. “I will hold you to that.” I replied. “Okay, see you when I see you. Bye.” said Bongani as he hung up the phone. I had already included Bongani’s portion in the food I was cooking so I was going to refrigerate the remaining food. I don’t know the exact time Bongani arrived home because I was fast asleep. I woke up early in the morning so that I could pack my clothes into my travelling bag after which I bathed. As I sat in the dining devouring my breakfast I heard someone yawning as they entered the room. For a moment I thought it was an intruder before I realised it was Bongani. “Morning, you got me a startled there.” I said. “Good morning. You are up early.” said Bongani as outstretched his hands. “I had to pack my clothes. I will be staying at the Millers place.” “That’s cool. You know my door is always open you can come here anytime. You can keep the spare keys.” said Bongani as he entered the kitchen. I arrived at the Miller’s residence before 8 am. I was escorted from the gate to the house by Abigail the Miller’s domestic worker. “Right on time. That’s what I like a person who sticks to the time.” said Mr Miller. “Good morning sir.” I said. “Morning, don’t be frightened by the dog it won’t bite, It knows you are with Me.” said Mr Miller. I left my travelling bag in the cottage. I was given a single bed to sleep on and some blankets. I wore the blue work suite I had been given by Mr Miller. The yard covers an area of three and half acres. In the morning I racked all of the, leafs which had fallen off. I spent a great deal of time because there were many trees because we were in August when trees shed their leaves on this part of the equator. A month passes by working at the Miller’s without any incident. My first pay cheque came on time plus the money was not that bad. In the few month I have been working at Millers my knowledge about their family has increased. They have a daughter named Liandri a recent graduate from the University of Stellenbosch, she was studying medicine. Mr Miller’s wife from what I gathered is a house wife she is always at home and to date I didn’t know where Mr Miller made his money from, he too is always at home except for Tuesdays where he goes golfing at the Pretoria Country club and Sundays when he goes to church with the family. The Miller family are devout Dutch Reformed Church congregates. I had grown fond of Liandri, I didn’t have any sexual attraction to her but I liked her attitude. Sometimes she would start talking to me whilst I did my chores. She was friendly and chatty. I didn’t know if they had other children so I assumed Liandri was their only child. Liandri came with a folding chair which she placed in the shed of the Musasa tree. She sat on the chair as I racked the leaves. “How are you?” said Liandri. “Fine, and you?” I replied. “I am fine.” said Liandri as she applied some avocado onto her face. “You know that’s a delicacy from I come from.” I said as I racked the leaves on the pathway which led into the house. “Food you say. It’s very good for you skin you should try It.” replied Liandri. “In my stomach, not on my face though.” We kept on talking until I finished racking the leaves after which I left to eat lunch. The arrangement was that breakfast and lunch were provided for by the Miller’s and supper I prepared for myself.