10 Sojourner's Tales

Micho Sangera

Description

Micho Sangera weaves a rich tapestry deriving from carefully selected urban tropes to come up with a taut, emotion-charged short story collection in which supposed friends turn out to be deadly rivals, friendships are lost and won again and in which everything is not what it seems. 10 Sojourner's Tales simultaneously shows us that storytelling is much more than characters as vehicles taking the plotline forward, as it references some of the more unconventional narrative styles, thereby revealing to us that sometimes form is equally important alongside the account itself. From reverse narratology, diction-bending narration to characters speaking to us from the afterlife, the collection recounts unlikely motivations behind the depicted actions of its characters, making us chortle in the process when not invoking in us the empathy that brings out our humanity through scenes of pathos that show literature is as much about lived experiences as storytelling.

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Date de parution: 30 avril 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781528964753
• Langue: English

Extrait

10 Sojourner’s Tales
Micho Sangera
Austin Macauley Publishers
2019-04-30
10 Sojourner’s Tales About The Author About The Book Dedication Copyright Information Acknowledgement Zero Sum Five Years Earlier Back to the Present Cold Drink Starbaby Elusive Catatonic Damsel Six Months Later God Bless (In Chaucer’s Torture Chamber) There’s Another World Beyond This Murder in the Sixth Degree Cornful Corner The Offence Resentment The Authentics
About The Author
Micho Sangera is a commercial writer for a South African media house who has been a practising journalist for many years. Literature remains his first love and he likes to experiment with various forms of narrative for both artistic reasons and as a pastime.
About The Book
Micho Sangera weaves a rich tapestry deriving from carefully selected urban tropes to come up with a taut, emotion-charged short story collection in which supposed friends turn out to be deadly rivals, friendships are lost and won again and in which everything is not what it seems. 10 Sojourner’s Tales simultaneously shows us that storytelling is much more than characters as vehicles taking the plotline forward, as it references some of the more unconventional narrative styles, thereby revealing to us that sometimes form is equally important alongside the account itself. From reverse narratology, diction-bending narration to characters speaking to us from the afterlife, the collection recounts unlikely motivations behind the depicted actions of its characters, making us chortle in the process when not invoking in us the empathy that brings out our humanity through scenes of pathos that show literature is as much about lived experiences as storytelling.
Dedication
For Francis Makama Makoni, in memoriam.
Copyright Information
Copyright © Micho Sangera (2019)
The right of Micho Sangera to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781528926607 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528926614 (Kindle e-book)
ISBN 9781528964753 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2019)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LQ
Acknowledgement
Special thanks to Laura Bryant for being a peerless friend and for showing me a kindness I never knew existed, and to Partson Chirodza for pointing the way to the light.
Zero Sum
We met just like any two friends meet. Like Jack and Jill. Or John and Peter. Thomas and James can meet in a way different to that Nelson and Walter meet. In life, people are meant to meet. People are always befriending people like them or people they like, sometimes in and under the most unlikely of settings. Although circumstances can separate friends, they occasionally also reunite friends. It’s called fate and it is none more interesting than in friendships.
I have made and rediscovered friends in the most unlikely of places. This includes faraway and remotely familiar places such as Japan, Madagascar and the Australian Outback. An example closer to home is the Northern Cape trail – the whole interface covering De Aar and its steely heat, the dust bowls of the Kalahari Desert and the frigid nocturnal excitement of Upington. I have also made friends with a man I stopped to assist with a flat tyre on the lonely roads of the Free State. I rediscovered the man, called Jim, in the riotous colour-confusion of the minstrels, at the head of a marching band, in Cape Town, two years ago. It felt good to meet but it was just that: a friendship unadorned by the exchanging of contacts or that sort of thing. It was a quick beer standing up at a noisy Long Street club and then goodbye, see you again, whenever.
I have formed great friendships at institutions of learning, at the workplace, in supermarket aisles, on the street corners of Johannesburg and boast at least one enduring acquaintance forged in the restrictive vicinity of the prison exercise yard.
Friendship can start from being good neighbours, sharing boyfriends, sharing girlfriends or even sharing relatives. When you share, you converse in an index of the commonality of taste or what common denominator there is that can bind people.
As for these days, I’m all over like Katy Perry. She who bedecks your bedroom walls, is constantly on your plasma screen, is cooing in low tones in your local shopping mall, is issuing out of your car stereo on the way to work, is issuing out of your car stereo on the way home from work, is staring down on you from the highway billboard and, is so in your face at this and the next fashion show and the other one being staged the week after that.
I’m all over these days because I’m just back in town and have got a big score to settle and harbour a powerful urge to examine and explore the city’s status quo.
The act of embracing life to the full, that spring in the step of someone stepping along the pavement with a swagger, is in me. So I keep taking up what challenge comes my way, at contests, at high-stakes pool, at casinos. Every new man in town with fire in his belly wants the world to be his oyster.
Wherever there’s an important happening or a big challenge, I’m there and I’m the darling of the money houses, the pool bars, casinos, the hot clubs, grand cafes, top restaurants and the grand party houses.
Oh yes AND the big do’s: from promotions, launches, prize ceremonies, festivals, anniversaries, pageants and shows to unveilings of all kinds – tombstone unveilings, building unveilings, plaque unveilings, statue unveilings, you name it. I’m to be found palming the president himself or the relevant minister.
I’ve been away for five years and that’s why I’m all over. I’m just back and am obsessed with the business of trying to reconnect and making sense of all that went on while I was exiled; of what came up, went under, what place expropriated the city’s pulse, who’s top dog, who’s still standing, who’s six feet under. I’m all over in order to catch up by sniffing out for myself or by being briefed on developments by whoever is kind enough to do that. OK, I’m all over, that’s settled.
But why am I this all over? All the above would be secondary if I’m to be honest with why I’m so ubiquitous. I’m looking for someone, a mother-type figure whose touch of love can change possibly anyone forever.
I’m a newly released prisoner but my bottom is well-padded. I was in the clinker for fraud following a conviction for running a pyramid scheme. I was lucky I got to keep the proceeds of my crime. If I look after my finances carefully, I will want for nothing in the long term. My major concern finance-wise is to find the right investment channels that can bring in good returns.
Not forgetting that I also have a bone to pick. I need to settle this score.
Consider also, I’m about to hit the big one, the big 4-0, the definitive separation tally. In human terms, the age 40 is that bright mark, the red hot porker of our lives. It can only get downhill from here. That is why I’m a bullet these days and it is difficult for anyone to catch me. Life has been reduced to its essence and I’m in search of only that which matters most: love and friendship.
The big break comes two weeks after hitting town when I run into Patrick Legae. Patrick Legae, for some unknown reason, is one of those people who people refer to by both their first and second names every time they talk about them. So I’m not about to demur and address him as merely Patrick.
“Patrick Legae,” I call out, hazarding my reputation on the square where all eyes have turned in my direction.
Patrick Legae and I became friends after we were brought together by Iris, the zero sum of our lives. Iris, the iridescent Iris, the mother-angel of the universe, so acceptable in all her many contradictions.

Five Years Earlier
Late night in Banbridge Street on Vilakazi Square. A tall and willowy figure comes lolloping along, having waved to Iris, with whom I have a date, from afar. The glitz of Xmas is all over town and is distilled in the autumn drizzle that lends this night its mystical charm. Nothing could seem to go wrong but someone, in the shape of Patrick Legae, is about to spoil it.
And he’s coming straight to commit a sin I don’t remember forgiving people for committing against me, a sin I don’t remember ever committing against anyone after my 21 st birthday. And oh yes, here he comes along, visibly, carelessly happy. He holds my gaze and commits that sin – pulls my date aside for a tête-à-tête.
Those who know me well will tell you that I could be counted on to make a show of my displeasure in such circumstances. On this occasion, however, a restraining force gets me in its grip and I show uncharacteristic indifference. I cut a forlorn figure while looking on, an apparently calm exterior belying an all-consuming rage inside. The rage and outrage reach their crescendo and then start to subside, ebbing away in gradual tides until I attain equanimity.
As he chats away to Iris whom he has winched away from me, Patrick Legae continues to hold my gaze. I can tell a look of respect when I see one.
By the time Iris finally comes over to re-join me, a miracle has happened. I’m taken over by a feeling I don’t remember reserving for a rival. It is a feeling of genuinely liking this guy, Patrick Legae.
That is how Patrick Legae and I met. We were united by Iris.
When I’m with Patrick Legae, we avoid the subject of Iris, out of mutual respect and o