Beyond The River

Mohale Mashigo

Description

Duma is at a cross roads in life. Living in an informal settlement in Soweto with his father and young sister, Duma is expected to make a contribution to the household since he does not work. The easy way has been to steal electricity cables. But when his friend gets caught, Duma decides to try a new way of life.
The road to a new beginning does not come easy as he goes back to the canoe club at Power Park and he quickly learns that paddling a canoe is not as easy as he remembered. He finds himself drawn to the water and is inspired by Steve an experienced paddler who is determined and pushes himself but lately the gold has been out of reach. Duma goes out on a limb and asks Steve if they can train together for the Dusi. Will Duma and Steve’s partnership in the water work out? This is an inspirational story of two men from different backgrounds, coming together to tell their story.

Sujets

• Bateaux
• Bateau
• Afrique du Sud
• Sport
• Recreation
• Canoeing
• List of water sports
• South Africa
• 21st century
• Republic of South Africa
• Sports
• Water Sports

Informations

• Publié par: Pan Macmillan South Africa
• Date de parution: 01 avril 2017
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781770105478
• Langue: English

Extrait

Beyond the river
A Novel
Adapted by Mohale Mashigo
MACMILLAN

This book is an adaptation of the Heartlines feature film Beyond the River. The original story was written by Craig Freimond and Robbie Thorpe. The film is based on the real-life story of Piers Cruickshanks and Siseko Ntondini.
First published in 2017 by Pan Macmillan South Africa Private Bag X19 Northlands Johannesburg 2116
www.panmacmillan.co.za
ISBN: 978-1-77010-546-1 eISBN: 978-1-77010-547-8
© 2017 Heartlines
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable for criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
Editing by Kelly Norwood-Young Proofreading by Sean Fraser Design and typesetting by Fire and Lion Cover photography by Trevor Calverley (from the film) Images edited by Onemanshow Creation

Contents Chapter 1: A close call Chapter 2: Back on the water Chapter 3: A new partner Chapter 4: Stuck Chapter 5: Sharing Stories Chapter 6: Heavy water Chapter 7: A new beginning – Hope at last What do you think? About the author Also in the #WhatsYourStory series

Chapter 1 A close call
As Oupa paddled away, Duma wondered, How did we end up here? Zama said this was going to be an easy job … They had both just agreed to meet up with Oupa the next day. The police officers had left a few minutes ago but Duma’s heart was still racing. Zama seemed to have calmed down; he was smiling even.
When Duma woke up that morning, this was not how he thought the day would play itself out. In the morning, after his father had gone to work and Mandisa, his sister, had gone to school, he lay in bed listening to the people of Elias Motsoaledi, his home, come alive. The sun itself was not even awake, but the township was. The sounds of buses, hooting taxis and people shouting for water or soap next door. Those sounds kept Duma awake every morning and he only went back to sleep once the children and adults had left. He had nowhere to be, nothing to do and nobody expecting anything from him. That was how every morning played itself out.
Zama found him sitting outside, looking bored, or despondent, or both. That had become his temperament now. Duma and Zama had been friends for many years: they lived in the same neighbourhood, had gone to school together, and now whiled away the time in each other’s company.
‘We need money for drinks, mfana .’ Duma knew what that meant; Zama didn’t need to explain himself.
After the first time they had stolen cables and been paid for it, neither of them could believe that they had got away with it. The high was followed by a short-lived celebration because things cost money and those who bought the stolen copper cables from them did not pay a lot. ‘We’ll only do it when we need money,’ was what Duma had said to Zama. But they both knew that things cost money and neither of them had a job. It was an unspoken pact to become cable thieves together. Zama had nerves of steel and Duma was a good lookout, or at least that’s what Zama told him.
‘Grab the pliers.’ It wasn’t a particularly hot day but Zama was sweating. He always did when he worked the electrical cables of the railway line – one wrong move and he would be fried. Duma was drowning out the noises around him; that’s what made him a good lookout. He didn’t have the nerve to actually cut the cables. It was earlier that afternoon when Zama, with nerves of steel, was removing the galvanised cable that Duma saw the car with flashing blue lights. It was speeding towards the two boys.
‘Eiii …’ The lookout was panicking, ready to run. Zama, by contrast, was not bothered.
‘We’ve got time; let’s do this.’ The car was getting closer. Duma’s heart was beating faster. The cable finally gave but not without a fight. A jolt of electricity kicked Zama off his feet. He dusted himself off and rolled up the cable. Duma had his eye on the cloud of dust caused by the car. He was estimating how far they could run and which route was the best. Duma waited nervously for his friend to give him a signal to start running.
‘Let’s go!’ Duma shouted impatiently, even though he could hardly hear himself over the loud beating of his heart. Zama stood up straight and looked at his friend with a smile; that was the sign. They both began running from the police car that was now a few metres from them.
Some streets did not have signs to indicate the street name but they both knew in which direction to run. They also knew that in a few seconds the police car closing in on them wouldn’t be able to follow them. Zama looked behind him and the police officer, in the passenger seat, grimaced as he realised that the car wasn’t going to make it down the embankment. His partner made a risky u-turn, which amused Zama. His body was not letting him down as he sprinted alongside his more athletic friend. Surprisingly, the chase thrilled Duma. It had been a while since he had been excited about anything.
There’s the street where Sis’ Ntombi sold amagwinya from her house and two streets down was where Zama punched a guy who was threatening Duma when they were still in school. The layout of the streets was hardwired into their minds, so they weaved in and out of the tight spaces between the homes. Stay off the road – they didn’t even need to say it to each other. Mama ka Jama was not going to be happy that the boys had run past her laundry on the line. Zama definitely touched it with his dirty hands. Duma swerved past it because he knew that she did her laundry on Tuesdays; the gospel music blaring out of her home was a ‘laundry day’ sign.
The sight of Zorro’s scrap-metal horse and cart was what drew them out onto the road. Again, nothing needed to be said between them; Duma already knew what Zama was thinking. Zorro was with two younger boys, whom he called his cousins; they all lived in the same house. After scanning the streets for the police in their Corolla, Zama caught up with the cart and put the cables on the back.
‘Zorro, keep this for me.’
Zorro nodded and one of his younger cousins covered the cables with a sack. Not even a minute after Duma and Zama had disappeared down a road, the Corolla appeared, skidding past the horse cart. Zorro now understood why he had been asked to keep the cables and a smile played on his face.
Half relieved but still high on adrenaline, Duma and Zama ran onto a dusty soccer pitch. Dusty because nobody cared to grow grass for a poor community near the Orlando Dam and a soccer pitch because soccer’s a way of life in townships. Soccer was how most young boys in the township bonded; many years later, they would keep their friendships alive based on the teams they were born into. There was no random selection of teams in a township. You grew up listening to your uncle berate the coach when his team had lost; your grandmother still wears a top with the team’s logo while she cleans on Saturdays; the guys next door get along quite well until the derby and then they are sworn enemies. No township is the same – but they are in the way that soccer shapes the lives of the people who live in them.
Duma was a fence-sitter when it came to soccer teams but he was not untouched by the beauty of the game. Seeing the young kids playing in the dusty field prompted him to intercept a pass and chase the ball towards the goal posts. The kids were not sure how to react to their game being hijacked. Zama stood laughing on the sidelines. When Duma scored for one of the teams, the goalie was unsure whether to block the ball or plead for Duma to let them continue.
Zama shouted, ‘ Laduuuuuuuuuuma! ’ Encouraged by his friend’s outburst, Duma lifted his shirt in mock celebration and the kids began to argue about the legitimacy of the goal. A little girl wearing a red shirt was convinced the goal should be counted. She was not sympathetic because it wasn’t her fault the other team had a pumpkin for a goalie.
Convinced that the police had given up trying to find them, Duma and Zama slowed down to catch their breath. Zama had his hands on his knees, surprised at how unfit he was; he used to be faster than this. He was about to tell Duma about his lack of fitness when he spotted the Corolla coming around the corner. The police officer in the passenger seat was pointing wildly at them.
‘Whoa,’ Duma said, almost surprised that the cops had found them. Once more, they didn’t have to say anything to each other; Zama was already running in a different direction with Duma close behind him. The officer behind the wheel was furious as he made a 360-degree turn and hurtled after them. Once again, the two friends had a home advantage: the streets were familiar to them and they knew a refuge lay just beyond the Power Park towers, which were next to them. Over the concrete pipes and between reeds, they ran towards Orlando Dam. The building next to the dam was where they stopped, backs pressed up against it and out of breath. They heard a car screech to a halt in the distance, two doors opening and shutting and one of the policemen shouting something.
For the first time that day, Duma began to worry. The prospect of being caught, something he knew was a possibility but didn’t think would happen, left him nauseated. What would his father say? How would his little sister, Mandisa, cope with a brother who had been arrested? He was responsible for her, for making sure she did her homework and for making supper before his father came home from work.