The Masters of Business Administration

“And last of all ladies and gentlemen”, Noxolo continued to imitate with an imaginary wine glass in her hand, her stomach sucked in, and her right leg lifted to the height of Instagrammable elegance, “I’d like to thank my wonderful husband. None of this, the graduation, the promotion, all of it would’ve been possible without you”.

Her small crowd seated near the communal playground of the Dainfern Golf Estate burst out in laughter. “Gen-e-ral Ma-na-ger at the Shop-rite Group of Com-pa-nies ladies and gentlemen”, Noxolo punctuated each syllable with a finger in the air.

It was the 10:30am, when the domestic workers gathered to find relief from the sterile banality of suburbia. Somehow, their employers had respectively synchronised their contractual schedules to allow for 43 minutes of pram walking, so that the little ones get enough Vitamin D to prepare them for a successful future.

“Heeyi, and that husband did nothing. Just complaining that she’s always studying, and always working, and isn’t spending enough time with the kids. Even though he was doing the same thing. I wake up, feed the children, dress them, bath them, walk them, everything!”

“Be careful, you don’t know who’s listening” said Isaac, one of the ground staff managing the gardens.

“Hawu tsek”, dismissed Noxolo. “Even your boss was there yesterday, and he said he’d get ‘one of his guys’ to look at the weed problem at home. Has he told you yet?”

Isaac looked down, and continued his work.

“But”, Noxolo started imitating again, “’Malawians are such hard workers, not like these lazy South Africans’”, she said, holding in her laughter. “So qhubeka, work hard”.

“Anyway, I better get back home. It’s time for this child’s sweet potato mash snack. Another new idea she had which means more work for me”.

Suddenly, a large blast was heard from the direction of Dainfern Square. Black smoke rose up, and the sound of gruelling screams followed interspersed gunshots. They all looked at each other, and ran back to their houses for safety.

These were the days when the banks had been given a monopoly on the movement of money; the retailers had been given a monopoly on the movement of food; and the private security companies had been given a monopoly on the movement of people.

3 months later…

“Where is Noxolo!? She’s supposed to have been here by now! It’s 7pm and she was supposed to be back by 6!”

Athi was now frustrated. Being locked into the house with kids for a whole weekend was not the successful future she had been promoted to. Ever since the private security companies had started their nationwide territorial wars 3 months ago, the life they knew had been wrecked.

The handle of the kitchen door slowly creaked. Noxolo tried to slip in unnoticed, but found the whole family distressed in the kitchen, waiting for her.

“Where have you been!?” Athi raised her voice.

“Calm down babe,” Sipho said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “She’s here now’.

“Sorry ma’am. It was hard getting transport back here now with the fighting”.

She put her bags down at the door and started to make her way to the children’s room. Danger, the household Labrador started sniffing her bags curiously.

“Noxolo, what’s in your bag?” Athi asked suspiciously.

“There’s nothing ma’am, just my clothes.”

The dog continued, trying to open the zip with its teeth.

“Do you have food in there?” Athi now folded her arms, staring at Noxolo. Noxolo had the unfortunate genetic trait of wearing her heart on her sleeve, her face unable to hide what’s within. “No, ma’am, I don’t”, she tried.

“Where did you get food from!?” Athi now started shouting again. “The banks are rationing how much money you can use, and the shops are rationing how much you can buy. You can’t get past the Financial Intelligence Centre. You can’t get past the retailers!”

Noxolo put her face down and tried walking away. “I’m still talking to you!” Athi said.

“I have a garden near home where I grow them. Next to Diepsloot, there’s an open field where we grow our food”.

“Then why didn’t you tell me this whole time!? You’ve seen that we’ve been struggling to get food!” Athi raised her hands in frustration.

“You said you didn’t have cash to pay me on time ma’am. You can only buy there with cash. So I thought you wouldn’t be able to.”

“What!?”. Athi walked away to her bedroom to calm herself down.

Noxolo stood awkwardly, unsure of whether to stay or to go.

“How many of you are growing there?” Sipho asked, breaking the silence. “Can we drive there and see?”

“If we go, we’ll have to go at 10pm to avoid getting caught by the security. It’s on the border between ADT and Thompson lands”.

“But how will we get outside the estate gates?”, Noxolo asked. “I just saw they’re not letting anyone out”.

“Don’t worry. Most locked doors can be greased open.”

At 10pm, Sipho waited until Athi was asleep, then got into the car with Noxolo. She opted to sit in the back seat. As they passed HeronBridge College, Sipho switched off the car lights so as not to be noticed. They turned right into a dirt road, and drove until there was no more gravel. Men with guns then surrounded the car.

“It’s fine, he’s with me”, Noxolo said as she got out of the car.

“Why are you bringing people here? They’re going to take all of our things!” one of the gunmen said.

“Don’t worry Scelo, this one just knows numbers. He can’t take anything.” she smirked. Sipho gave her a side eye, unsure of whether to be relieved or offended.

“I-I-I w-w-want to buy some of your s-s-stock”, Sipho asked with the confidence of a man with a gun on his back.

“How much cash do you have?”, the gunman asked.

“R-r-right now, I don’t have. But in two weeks, I’ll have the cash” he assured them.

The gunman let out a loud laugh. “Mxm, how? You’re going to try and sell the stock to people with no cash, so how will you get the cash?”

“Don’t worry about that. I have relationships with the private security companies. They have the cash. We can set up payment plans between them and the buyers.” Sipho explained.

“So why can’t we then do the same?”

“Because you don’t have the relationships with the security companies. And if you try, you don’t have the guns that they have. They’ll come and take everything of yours”, said Sipho, trying to justify his relevance.

“The one without the guns is always a slave to the one with the guns. And right now, you don’t have any guns.”

All at once, bright lights surrounded them. The field was besieged by the headlights of private security pick up trucks, with armed men at the back pointing their automatic rifles at them. “Put all your guns down!” blurted the loudspeaker. All the gunmen threw their guns on the ground and raised their hands.

A man walked towards them, his form silhouetted by the bright lights. He walked up to Sipho and shook his hand. Then turned to the gunmen.

“From now, everyone answers to Sipho. He’s be your manager from here on. Also, we’ll take all your guns from here.”

These were the days when the banks had been given a monopoly on the movement of money; the retailers had been given a monopoly on the movement of food; and the private security companies had been given a monopoly on the movement of people.

Photo by Casey Connell on Unsplash