Uz’ ungangisondeli
Hlez’ ng’thukuthele
Hlez’ ngisempini ak’fiwe mak’fiwa, aziwe maziwa
Ng’zobuya ngo-six
Ng’zobuya ngo-six
Awus’gcwel’ i-viano amantombazane ayokhala abafana…

Friday morning.

The London skies were clear, and while the roads were not, Benoni Johan was in high spirits, sitting behind the wheel of his Skoda. Bopping his head and singing along passionately to the sounds of Isaka by Ciza, nothing could dull his shine that morning. Not even this infuriating traffic.

He was moving from Camden after spending the night at Amara’s place, doing what they loved best: having the freakiest intercourse ever. In his head, the spine-tingling events that occurred a few hours ago kept replaying themselves over and over, and he was fully enjoying it.

“Good god, that girl’s melons are like cocaine! So fucking addictive!” he chortled to himself. “I always knew it. From the moment I saw her at that gathering, I knew I had to have those huge tits in my mouth…”

It had been a few months ago, at a little get-together organized by a mutual friend of theirs.  A rooftop gathering in Shoreditch. Music playing, people laughing, red plastic cups in hand. Benoni was chilling with a few of his friends from university, talking about life in London compared to their home countries. It was in the midst of listening to one Bangladeshi guy speak that his eyes fell upon her.

Amara. 

Flowing pink dress. Tight fit. Cleavage abundant. Shy and unassuming look. Sweet smile.

He was hooked. Instantly.

Busty Caucasian girls had always been his weakness since his teenage days in Durban. His first time as a seventeen-year-old with that Theolene girl had left the most unforgettable and sweetest of impressions on him, and since that evening in her dorm room, they were his top choice. While their fling was very short, and he had dated one or two black girls afterward, nothing triggered him more than a white girl with a heavy chest. So the moment he saw Amara, he knew she was a prize he just had to get his hands on.

He approached her, giving her that low, composed smile he always used when he wanted to test a boundary, as he complimented her and made his interest known to her instantly. 

She told him she had a boyfriend. And that boyfriend was Donald. The same guy he worked with at Perspective. 

He just smiled wider, telling her that it didn’t bother him, that life was short, and that if she really rated Donnie, she wouldn’t be there chatting to him for twenty minutes.

The fact that she laughed and didn’t walk away was enough encouragement for him that this babe could be snatched. He managed to get her number afterwards, and after the party, a relentless pursuit followed: a myriad of long voice notes and calls, with promises that he’d make her happier than Donald ever could.

Her initial thought that his rizz game was sharp and playful changed with this pursuit. She was hesitant, obviously not enthused with the idea of cheating on Donald, whom she really liked. With time, though, Benoni’s charm and sweet talk weakened her defences, and she decided to see if this guy could put his money where his mouth was.

After their first night together, her mind was blown.

It was during this time that she became cold and distant towards Donald; she had found herself in a position where she was absolutely swept up by the intensity of the passionate intercourse with Benoni, yet hesitant to break things off with Donald. She then decided there was one way to make a decision.

Give both of them a two-week window to prove how well they could satisfy her.

Donald’s two-week period expired once she went over to Birmingham, where she met up with Benoni and had her mind blown once again. Although Benoni left for London later, Amara’s mind was fully made up by then: it was Benoni she wanted. Donald could burn the sea for all she cared.

“She’s bad. Like, dangerously bad. Underneath all that sweetness and innocence… insane bad bitchery. And she chose me over Donald. That’s a W, bro,” Benoni chuckled to himself. “Sorry for him, but… a girl as sexy as that? My exact type of flavour? Sorry, I was always gonna come for that.”

He shrugged as he drove on. “I mean, it’s a dog-eat-dog world we live in. Either you win, or you get outplayed. He wasn’t built for her anyway. He’s more suited to the slimmer ones. You know, Ines’ type of build. He can have that; I don’t care. But girls like Amara? Bruh, I need them. I know how to handle juicy girls like her. I know how to fuck them so well, they’re constantly daydreaming about my dick. I am that good!”

He laughed at his own comment as he continued to meander through the busy streets on his way to work. There was no doubt about it, he had zero regrets about being behind his colleague’s heartbreak.

As far as he was concerned, it was all in the game.

***

It was about half an hour later that he arrived at the car park of Perspective. Managing to fit in a rather risque chat with Amara, he truly felt on top of the world. The girl was still reeling from his skills and called to beg him to come around again that evening. Of course, another evening of partaking of Miss Abrahams’ incredible body sounded too good to refuse, so he agreed to come around again.

Plus, this Isaka song was really hitting the spot; he hadn’t played any other song on the way to the studio. Themba wasn’t lying when he recommended the song to him; it was the biggest hit in South Africa for a reason.

As he stepped out of the car and locked it, he noticed Mickey’s Audi a few spaces away. Mickey and the Trinidadian boys were in a pretty animated chat, as they showed him a photo on Ash’s phone.

“Ayo, Miss Hadiyah’s looking like a sweet one, still! Mad refined, bruv. Like wine that’s been aged in a Dior store,” Mickey commented, clearly admiring some lady on the phone screen.

“Swears, bruv. Bare elegance and beauty,” Magnum agreed. “She said we should come to her school and talk to the kids about the channel.”

“Bruv, say less. Let’s make it happen. I’ll bring Carola around; I know she liked her a lot…”

Benoni had no idea what or who they were talking about, but of course, that was none of his business. After all, he didn’t attend the same school as them; he wasn’t even living in London during that time.

So he breezed past them, waving at them. “Morning, bros!”

Mickey gives a friendly wave back. “Yooo, my guy. What’s good?”

“Oh, I’m great, man. Heading inside. See ya!”

“Aight, safe.”

“Bless.”

Benoni was still pretty much on top of the world as he walked past them. 

Too full of glee to notice that Ash Clovez and Magnum’s vibe instantly shifted upon seeing him.

***

“Mohammed Kudus, you might be my fellow Ghana boy and all, but… you pagan!”

The panel burst into laughter. It was mid-morning, and the recording of ‘Transfer News Roundtable’ was in session. The main topic for the day was the transfer of Mohammed Kudus from West Ham to Tottenham, so obviously, Mickey was gutted, and Donald was over the moon.

“Nah, nah, nah, I’m fuming right now,” Mickey protested. “My man was the light at the end of the tunnel, for fuck’s sake. That boy’s a baller. Pure joy on grass. Now man’s gotta watch him hand crosses to Richarlison? Nah, this is mad. I’m done.”

Donald rolled his eyes. “Brudda, first of all, he’s not handing crosses to that scrub. It’s Dominic Solanke. Second, don’t deny it, bruv. You man all knew it was coming. After that shitshow you lot put up last season? Come on, man. Kudus is too good for that. We might have been shit too, but bruv, we won the Europa League! We’re playing in the Champions League! That’s the level Kudus should be at. I swear down, the boy’s about to cook under Thomas Frank!”

Benoni nodded, fully in agreement with Donald. “Listen, I just have to side with Donnie on this one. Kudus is too dynamic to be stuck in mid-table. You look at his ball control, that low centre of gravity, his ability to shift tempo on the turn… Tottenham’s midfield just levelled up. Proper signing.”

“Damn right, Benoni!” Donald agreed. “Ash, you man better watch out, Kudus is taking over North London, ya heard?”

Ash Clovez snorted. “Bruv, spare me the hype! Ethan Nwanerri’s gonna boss him when they meet.”

“That’s only if the exchange for Noni Madueke doesn’t happen.”

Ash Clovez shut his eyes while the rest of the panel guffawed. “I swear to god, if my football club does that, I will just… ugh!”

The team burst into laughter once again. Everyone knew how opposed Ash Clovez was to that potential deal.

As they regained their composure, Benoni chipped in once again. “But yeah, I can see Kudus really shining for this Tottenham. I think it’s a great signing. Donnie, your team’s on the up, you get me?”

Donald raised his fist, a grin on his face.

“Alright, so in Benoni’s eyes, it’s a great signing. Same for Donnie. Count me out, coz man’s just a salty hater. Simba, what you sayin’, bigman?”

While Simba gave his thoughts, Ash Clovez picked up a pen and scribbled something on a notepad and tore out and sheet, and discreetly slid it to Magnum.

Magnum immediately took it and unfolded the note beneath the desk.

It read:  “Look at this clown pretending to be Donald’s boy. Disgusting.”

Suppressing a smirk, Magnum quickly scribbled beneath the message. He passed the paper back without lifting his head.

Ash read it.

“Damn wrong’un. No loyalty. Makes my skin crawl.”

Ash nodded solemnly, underlining “wrong’un” with a slow stroke before tucking the note under his phone.

Indeed, it was sickening to see all this. Benoni really had some nerve acting like he had Donald’s interests at heart when he was, in fact, a big factor in this hurtful breakup he was going through.

And now that they knew the truth and had seen it for themselves, they just could not look at Benoni the same.

***

“Can I come and help you take care of the baby when it comes, Tita Carola?”

Carola nodded enthusiastically, her eyes glowing with excitement as she rubbed Pokua’s back. “Of course, darling! I’d love to have you around. As long as you’re on vacation and your parents allow it. You can sing all the Ghanaian lullabies to him or her.”

It was evening, and the cousins had met up at Mickey’s house for the evening. Simba had brought Pokua along to see her favourite uncles and her beloved Filipina auntie, whom she called ‘Tita Carola’. While the little one was busily chatting with her, the trio was seated at the open kitchen area, their voices low as they conversed.

Simba had told them about the moment with Nana Esi in Brixton, and how magical the moment was, as they sang Black Sherif songs together. Even though her guard went back up eventually, a fire had been fueled within him. He could not be more sure that he wanted this back in his life: Nana Esi by his side as they nurtured Pokua.

There was still a bit of uncertainty as to whether it would be a wise move, though. This niggling thought at the back of his mind whispered that there was a likelihood she’d push back even more now, seeing she lowered her walls.

“I mean, it was just so beautiful, you know?” he remarked. “Just the two of us, singing along, laughing, like old times. No guard, no coldness, just… us. Felt so satisfying, bruv. Like, for a moment, I had her back. And since then, I feel it more than ever; I want that back, more than anything. I want us to be a family: me, her, and little Poki. But, I dunno… after the singing, she put her guard up again, went all quiet. I don’t know if I can get through to her after this. What if she decides to keep me at arm’s length now?”

Mickey shook his head. “Nah, bruv, listen. If she let her guard down once, singing Black Sherif with you, that’s a crack in the wall, innit? Maybe it’s time for a proper, candid talk. No pressure, just honest. Tell her how you feel, how you want your family back. If she softened up in that car, there’s a chance she might reconsider if you lay it all out.”

Donald nodded. “Mickey’s right, bruv. That moment in the car? That’s real. She didn’t have to sing with you, but she did. Means something’s still there, even if she’s fightin’ it. You gotta try, man. Worst case, you get closure. Best case, maybe you start rebuilding with her.”

Simba sighed, leaning on his upright arm. “Chale… I’m scared she’ll shut me down, but… that moment felt like the old Nana Esi. Maybe you’re right. I’ll try talking to her, a proper heart-to-heart. For Pokua, and for me.”

“That’s more like it,” Mickey nodded. “You’re a good man, you know? Bare man out there would dip from a situation like this. But you, you’re fighting for your family. That’s real manhood, my G.”

“Facts!” Donald agreed. “Just do what you ought to do. I know the option of closure sounds awful, but trust me, bruv, it’s better than being without closure.”

Simba sighed. Donald was right. At least he wouldn’t be blocked and shut out with no explanation like that pathetic girl had done to him.

“Sure, sure. I guess I’ll get it done when I take Poki back tonight. And as for that Amara girl, fire burn her and that guy she’s sleeping with!”

“Damn right! A bloodclat slag, that one!”

Carola looked back at them, a slight look of disapproval on her face. “Lads! Watch your language!”

The trio covered their mouths. “Sorry, Tita,” Mickey whispered, a teasing hint in his voice. “We’ll be good lads.”

Well, let’s hope it works out for Simba. And as for Benoni, he’s absolutely shameless!!