CHAPTER 13
THREE SHOTS
Three months have passed since Liandri and Bongani’s engagement party and all is set for the wedding which is going to take place in a fortnight’s time. Bongani was welcomed with open arms by the Miller family with open ups. Liandri also was welcomed by the Nkosi family except for Bongani’s father who was a bit cynical of a white makoti. His opinion was that Bongani was going to starve to death because Liandri can’t cook traditional food but I believe with the passing of time Mr Nkosi will change his opinion on Liandri and see that she is as good as any other black makoti he would wish his son to marry. I am going to be Bongani’s best man. A bus is going to ferry people from Zimbabwe to South Africa for the wedding and my mother and sister who by now was doing her first year at varsity will be in attendance. It is going to be the first time I see them since I left home just over three years back. It’s a weekend and it’s my off day I am sitting in my room watching news so I remain abreast with what is happening just in case I go to another interview. In the afternoon I am going to meet up with Bongani so that we can fetch the clothes we are going to wear at the wedding and also to take Candice from the airport. Bongani had arranged for Candice to come and stay with him in South Africa. Candice was been accompanied by Bongani’s elder sister Viola. We had done all the fittings and measurements prior to this date. But as the day progresses there is sudden change of events Mr Miller asks me to help him carry some paint buckets which were needed by the painters. The house was undergoing a facelift since it was going to host the reception of the wedding. Liandri and Bongani had reached a compromise to wed in the Anglican Church the Church which Bongani was baptized from. So I phoned Bongani informing him that I couldn’t make it. So Mr Miller and I left the house in the double cab Nissan Navara to buy the paint. As I stood in the hardware I received a phone call from a number that I didn’t know. “Hello. Is this Mr Tinashe Mushayabasa?” sounded the unfamiliar feminine voice. “Yes, how can I help you?” I replied as I grow a bit mystified. “Do you know a Mr Bongani Nkosi?” asked the feminine voice. “Yes, he is my friend.” I replied. “I am sorry to say this but Mr Nkosi was involved in car hijacking, he was shot three times and he is in critical condition.” said the feminine voice. I relieved the moments when my old man had a stroke it felt like it was just a bad dream a nightmare and I would soon hear the calls of my mother and wake up. Sooner rather later I discovered it was reality unfolding before my eyes. It felt unreal. “Whi- ch hospital is he in.” I said as I stammer in disbelief. “Pretoria Medical Centre.” replied the feminine voice. “Bye.” I said as I hung the call. I didn’t want to ask which part of his body had been short because I couldn’t speak I was just speechless. I start to think I should have been in that car with Bongani, I could have fought the hijackers but with what. I know there is nothing I can do except to be at my friend’s side at this time. I know he would also be at my side if a thing like this happened to me. “What, happened it looks like you have been hit by a hammer?” asked Mr Miller looking more serious. “Bongani has been shot.” I replied. “My son in law, is he alive?” asked a pale looking Mr Miller. “Yes but he is in critical position.” I replied. We left the hardware before we bought the paint, on our to the hospital I made phone calls to Bongani’s family back home in Zimbabwe to notify them of the tragic event. We decided not to tell Liandri on the phone but we decided to tell Mrs Miller who in turn would tell Liandri about the shooting since there were both at home together. I walk into the hospital hallway all confused as I and Mr Miller rush to the maternity ward instead of the intensify care unit. On arrival at the intensify care unit we are greeted by a medical doctor. “Hello doctor I just need to see my friend.” I said looking tense and unsettled. “Who is your friend?” asked the doctor. “Bongani Nkosi.” “I am Dr Sanders. We performed an emergency operation. We were able to remove two of the bullets but the other bullet is still stuck on the spinal cord.” “Can’t remove it.” asked Mr Miller. “At this stage it’s not a good thing to do because if we are to try and remove it. Mr Nkosi’s condition can worsen.” replied the Dr Sanders. “What are his chances of survival?” I asked. “It’s a fifty-fifty chance. There is nothing as a medical doctor that I can do. We tried to reduce the internal haemorrhage but there is still swelling on the brain.” said Dr Sanders. “What is a haemorrhage?” asked Mr Miller. “It is internal bleeding.” replied Dr Sanders. Bongani was shot three times once in the upper torso just missing the vena cava another bullet was fired just above his chin and the other one was still lodged in his spinal cord. Even if he woke up he would never walk and there was a great a chance he would loss his speech. All I can see is the movement of Dr Sanders’ mouth as he continues his narration on the extent to Bongani’s injuries, I no longer bother to listen to what he is saying as I am light years away from the Milky Way galaxy. I feel helpless as I open the door in which Bongani is in. It is not a good sight. He is bandaged all up and drips running all over his body an oxygen mask on his face. I walk towards were Bongani’s lays unconscious. I reach for his right hand. I stand there clasping his right hand with my right hand as I bow my head down and tears start to trickle from my eyes. The feeling is one of poignancy, the same I felt when my old man had a stroke. Mr Miller stands on my right side patting me in back all he says is “Why, why my Liandri?” first Leon now Bhongani.” I didn’t understand what he meant when he said Leon. All I could guess was that Leon was probably Liandri’s fiancé who died. Mr Miller always pronounces the first part of Bongani’s name as Bho instead of Bo. My eyes start to blink uncontrollably as I start to shiver. More Goosebumps start to show as I notice the decrease in Bongani’s heart rate on the heart monitor. Almost thirty minutes pass and Bongani remains motionless a middle aged nurse enters the room. “Gentleman I am sorry you have to leave the room this is not the official visiting time you can come back when visiting starts.” “But Mrs Mrs” I say as I try to read out the name of the nurse on her badge. “Mrs Khumalo, just a few moments please.” I plead. “I am sorry sir, rules are rules. You can wait in hallway.” replied Mrs Khumalo. As we emerged from the room, there came Liandri running and shouting. “Where is he, I need to see him. Someone please tell me it’s a dream. Tinashe where is Bongani.” “He is in there, I know Bongani he is fighter.” I said as I embraced her. “Where is mum?” asked Mr Miller. “I don’t know and I don’t care.” replied Liandri. As she finished saying those words Mrs Miller arrived to where we were standing. Right behind Mrs Miller, Viola and Candice have arrived. I had told Viola on the phone about the shooting and had instructed her to hire a taxi to ferry her and Candice to the hospital. “I want to see him, don’t tell me I can’t see him, because if it means breaking down that door to see him I will do It.” said an emotion filled Liandri. “Calm down my dear daughter. That won’t help him all he needs is rest now.” said Mrs Miller. We had to calm Liandri down as we tried to make provisions with hospital administration so that Liandri could be allowed to see Bongani before visiting time. Finally Liandri, Viola and Candice were allowed. They entered into the room looking distraught. Two hours later Dumisani and Reneilwe and other family members arrived. I explained to them the extent of the injuries as I narrated his injuries two police officers from the South African Police Services arrived. “I am Sergeant Gaxa and this is Constable Bhebhe.” Sergeant Gaxa then narrated how Bongani had been hijacked. According to the Sergeant and from information gathered from a witness who saw it happen as he hid under the cover of hedge which was near the intersection of the road where Bongani was hijacked from. Bongani was hijacked by two men. He was cut off and was ordered to come out of the car, when he offered some resistance that’s when he was shot and according to the witness who saw it all happened. The hijackers were driving a black unregistered Subaru Impreza hatchback. One of the hijackers who was sitting at front passenger seat disembarked from the car wilding a gun, a pistol to be exact, the witness went on to say that the other hijacker remained in the car at the driver’s end. The witness also noted that even though he did not get look of the hijacker’s face because he was afraid that the hijackers would see him and shot, he pointed out that the robber who shot Bongani had a visibly large laceration on his left arm. The witness saw Bongani shot once before he was dragged out of the car were he was shot twice laying face downwards on the tarred road, after which the hijacker jumped into Bongani’s BMW 3 series coupe he had recently bought just a few days back. The whole hijacking operation was a swift operation since the witness said it took less than 40 seconds. “Can’t you contact the insurance company? The car has a tracking device.” I said. “Unfortunately it won’t help we already tried contacting the insurance company it proved futile. The car hijackers disabled the tracker.” replied Sergeant Gaxa who was doing all the talking. I started receiving phone calls from Bongani’s family back home in Zimbabwe. All I could do was to reassure them that everything was stable. A week passes by and still Bongani remains in a comatose state and there are no signs of improvement. His family, are also at his bed side they have come from Zimbabwe. I arrive just before visiting starts and I head to the ward were Bongani is that is when I meet Mr Nkosi “Tinashe.” said Mr Nkosi as he took a pause before continuing. “Life is a journey, it is sometimes difficult and sometimes a joyful experience but what you have to remember is that through the happiness and pain, the Lord is always around.” I stood there wondering why Mr Nkosi was saying this. “Tinashe, your friend’s journey here on earth has ended.” “I don’t understand what you are saying Mr Nkosi.” I said. “Bongani is no more. He passed on a few minutes ago.” said Mr Nkosi in a lowered voice. “That can’t be, a week ago we were talking about the wedding and now this.” I felt powerless. I sat on the bench in the hallway with Mr Nkosi standing in front of me holding my hands. First it was my old man who was duped to the extent that he had a stroke and died and now my best friend was shot and is now dead. Both of the criminals, the conman Guru and now the hijackers are walking scot free and most probably waiting to pounce on another unsuspecting person. They say crime doesn’t pay but it seems to be paying the bills for others albeit the fact they might be haunted by a guilty conscience. Burial arrangements are already been made. Bongani’s body is going to be flown to Bulawayo after which the body will be transported by road to Plumtree were Bongani will be laid to rest at the Nkosi ancestral home. Liandri and both her parents also come with us to Plumtree. We make our way to the Nkosi rural homestead, along the road stands countless marula trees. When I see the marula tree I remember the day Bongani proposed to Liandri. On that day we drank amarula wine, a wine which is derived from the marula tree. This is the first time I am stepping on Zimbabwean soil since I left home over 3 and half years ago. The last time I was in Zimbabwe wasn’t a joyful time for me I had just lost my old man and this time around was again not a joyful time. I start to relieve all those moments I shared with Bongani. We shared a special kind of bond a bromance, we were not blood brothers but we bound not by blood but by love. Some family members make their speeches. We arrive at the Nkosi homestead, a mixture of modern architecture and yesteryear’s. A neatly built Cape Dutch influenced architectural eight roomed blue painted house stands a few meters from the wire and marsh gate at the entrance. Inside are four neatly thatched round huts. The homestead is home to a lot of marula trees. In the middle of homestead is a water tank mounted high up in the air which stores water drawn from an aquifer. The water is pumped by a solar powered generator. The water pump and Dutch style house were some of the improvements that Bongani had added to his rural home. His grandparents and relatives no longer had to walk a long distance to get water. I am one of the pole burier’s as we walk the short distance from the homestead to the family gravesite. Relatives gave their speeches and Liandri gave an emotional one which surely touched everyone’s heart I included. “Bongani was prepared to give up a lot for me. I didn’t know him that long but it was enough to know that he was kind and loving.” said Liandri as she took a brief break before continuing “He told me, true happiness is more rewarding than fame and wealth. Bongani showed me want it means to be happy. It might be a day of mourning but I am happy I met you Bongani Jeremy Nkosi.” said a tearful Liandri as she concluded her speech. Mr Nkosi then approached me to make a speech at the gravesite. I hadn’t prepared to say anything it was going to be impromptu. “You were not only a friend but a brother. You gave me advice and when the going got tough for me you were there. I say go well Nyoni.” I said as I gave the brief speech at the gravesite. Nyoni is the family totem for the Nkosi family. Nyoni is isiNdebele for bird. I lift my head and look up to the sky, and I feel the light drizzle which has started to fall as Bongani’s coffin is lowered. The drizzle washes away the tears I have. It feels like it’s a sign from above to tell me not to weep. To me it was a sign that my best friend was well wherever he was. We had not anticipated rainfall. Luckily the rainfall was very light and lasted for a few minutes. Under the shade of the marula tree I drink some water sitting on a wooden stool as the clouds disperse and the sun starts to emerge I start to think long and hard about life and how things can shift in the blink of an eye. Candice, Bongani’s six year old daughter is sitting with me on the wooden stool and she asks me a question which gets me to think more of where I am headed for. “Uncle Tinashe, can you be my father now, since mine is gone.” said a sad looking Candice. “Hold my hand, I make this promise to you I will always protect you. Your father would have wanted you to excel in life and so do I.” I replied. “But uncle Tinashe will I ever see my father?” asked Candice. “It’s like when the sun sets. Does it mean it will not rise again?” I said as I took a pause as I gaped into Candice’s eyes, before continuing “Your father might be gone but there is day, I don’t when it will be but we will be reunited.” I said. I really feel great sorrow for Candice, her father the person that cared the most for her is gone and she is left with a mother who is ever absent from her life and doesn’t want anything to do with her. When everything was falling into place for Bongani, the unexpected happened. Bongani was now the backbone of the Nkosi family he was contributing a lot financially to the upkeep of his family. Liandri had once seen Candice when she came to Zimbabwe with Bongani to meet the Nkosi family in Highfield and she instantly feel in love with her. I am happy that Candice’s character seems to have taken after her father’s. She is well mannered and friendly, one thing for sure she took after her mother’s looks. My hope is that she grows up to have a good blend of outer beauty and inner beauty unlike her mother who is beautiful on the outside and scary on the inside.