When Hoopoes Go to Heaven (36 page)

Very early in the morning, Mrs Levine brought Samson to dig a hole in the Tungarazas’ garden. Samson said it wasn’t right to dig up any of the grass, he should rather dig it at the
side of the house, near the lucky-bean tree.

‘Please not there, Mrs Levine!’

‘
Ag
Bennie, man, don’t be bloody difficult. What’s wrong with there?’

‘It’s a holy place, Mrs Levine, King Solomon’s queen is buried there!’

Mrs Levine looked at him as if he wasn’t right in his head, like people used to look at Petros, but she looked around for somewhere else. ‘There,’ she said, pointing to the
hedge of yesterday, today and tomorrow bushes. ‘Just in front of that. The grass isn’t good there anyway. Okay, Samson?’

‘
Yebo
, Madam.’

When the long hole was ready, Samson filled it with wood and the sheets of newspaper that Benedict and his brothers had scrunched into balls, setting it all alight with Mrs Levine’s
matches. Then Samson helped Mrs Levine to put up some poles at either end of it for the spit that was going to roast a whole entire lamb. A spit was nothing to do with the kind of spitting Petros
used to do. No. It was a long metal stick that could turn meat round and round over a fire so that every side of it got cooked.

Mrs Levine had said it was best to have the party at the Tungarazas’ on account of Auntie Rachel not wanting a whole entire animal cooking in her own garden, but Benedict knew it was
because Mrs Levine was busy marking her territory. When the Tungarazas left, Mrs Levine was going to live in their house. She had already done a bit of gardening there, like an animal moving onto
new territory and putting its own scent everywhere to say this is my place, I live here.

She could charge for her speech therapy now, on account of using some of Mr Levine’s money to get a work visa much more quickly than it usually took – though the children she had
already started to help for free before her visa, those children still didn’t have to pay. She was still going to help children in their homes after school in the afternoons, and on Saturdays
she was going to have group classes right here in the house. The TV was going to go into her bedroom and the long lounge and dining room was going to look like a classroom.

The poles for the spit were only just up when Uncle Enock’s bakkie pulled in to the garage and he came up to the garden with the skinned lamb slung across his wide shoulders. The
lamb’s head wasn’t joined to its body, it was still in the back of the bakkie. Uncle Enock was going to ask Lungi to put it in the fridge, and Samson could take it when he went home for
his Christmas. There was wood in the bakkie, too, and Samson must bring it and place it neat-neat next to the fire.

When the long pole with the wind-up handle on the end had gone right through the lamb and Uncle Enock and Samson had secured it with wire and balanced it across the poles at either end of the
fire, Benedict challenged Daniel and Moses to try turning it, while Mrs Levine watched nervously. Neither of them could, it was just too heavy. Benedict pretended that he couldn’t either, so
they both helped him, and together they managed.

‘Now you lot stay away from the fire, hey? I don’t want any bloody accidents.’

The lamb was going to need turning every now and so often, and that was Samson’s job. It was going to be hours of work in the sun, so the sleeves of Samson’s blue overall were rolled
up high, and a hat sat on his head. Lungi was doing most of the other cooking at the other house, and when the party started, Mavis was going to come and do cleaning.

Titi wasn’t going to do any work that day, it was her party, too. She put on her pretty dress, the new one she had been wearing when the family picked her up in Mwanza after her last
Christmas there. The blue, green and pink of it looked even more beautiful with the red and black of her
umcwasho
tassels. Benedict wanted to wear his suit, but he hadn’t worn it since
the special Easter Sunday service at Mater Dolorosa, and it really didn’t fit him any more.

‘The trouser is okay,’ said Titi, turning him round and looking at him carefully.

‘But look how short!’

‘No, it’s okay. Just wear it with a white socks, it’s the fashion here.’

The jacket was much too small, but the waistcoat was okay, as long as he didn’t try buttoning it. Baba helped him with his tie.

‘You look very smart, my boy. You
are
very smart. Smart outside and in.’

Benedict stood straighter, his chest swelling. But that put a strain on his shirt buttons, so he relaxed again. Baba didn’t know about Benedict wanting to help him by finding some gold:
Benedict had never said. He knew that if he told Baba now, Baba would squeeze his shoulder and say that his eldest boy had started a business and knew what he wanted to be in his life, and that was
richness enough for any man.

Benedict knew that not finding any gold didn’t matter at all, not really.

But still.

Mama looked beautiful! She wore her emerald-green silk dress that had shiny jewels around its neckline, her hair was big with large, soft curls, and her lips were shiny and red with lipstick.
The girls looked pretty too, and even the boys managed to look neater, a little less scruffy.

By the time the guests began to arrive in the early afternoon, the lamb smelled delicious! In between turning it, Samson sat on a chair in the shade of the lucky-bean tree, with Lungi making
sure he didn’t get too hot by taking him cans of coke from the sink outside the back door, the cement sink where Titi always washed their clothes, only Mrs Levine had filled it with ice and
cans of drink. The front part of the Tungarazas’ dining table was bright with bowls and plates of snacks, and underneath the cloth covering the back part were things to eat with the lamb when
it was ready: the biggest bowl of lettuce, tomato and cucumber Benedict had ever seen, some potatoes covered in a creamy sauce, freshly cooked beetroot with slices of onion, green beans in spices,
grated cabbage with grated carrot, and little cubes of cheese.

Wrapped in silver foil in a bowl on the kitchen counter, onions waited to go into the fire under the lamb, while wrapped in silver foil inside Mama’s gas oven, long, thin loaves of bread
filled with butter and garlic waited to be heated when it was time. On top of Mama’s oven, a huge pot of water waited to be boiled for making
ugali
, and a pot full of Lungi’s
spicy tomato and onion sauce was ready for re-heating.

The first vehicle to come up the driveway was Mr Simelane’s Buffalo Soldiers van. Benedict wanted to run down the steps to say hello, but Mama and Baba said that wouldn’t be right.
It was Mrs Levine’s party, she should be the one to greet guests. Benedict went to find her. She was at the window in Mama and Baba’s bedroom with a tape measure and a notebook. She put
them down on the windowsill and, picking up her drink, she led the way out of the house and down the steps, the ice cubes clinking in her glass as Benedict followed.

As well as Sifiso, Mr and Mrs Simelane had brought Giveness and his aunt.
Eh
, Benedict was so happy to see them!

‘
Eish
, Benedict, you look smart, nè?’

‘Thank you, Mr Simelane.’ Benedict noticed that Mr Simelane’s trouser was also a little short above his own white socks. Titi was right. It really didn’t matter.

Giveness’s aunt was untangling her shawl from one of the spokes of Giveness’s umbrella. ‘Something is smelling too nice!’

‘There’s a whole lamb cooking!’ Benedict told her excitedly.

‘
Eish!
’

‘
Ag
, come up and get something to drink, hey.’

The next people up the steps were the bigger Mazibuko children, followed a few minutes later by the smaller ones with Uncle Enock and Auntie Rachel. Soon after that, some of Baba’s work
colleagues arrived, together with their families. And by the time the Ubuntu Funerals van brought Zodwa, Mrs Patel and three of the cake ladies, Mavis already had many glasses to wash in
Mama’s sink.

Mrs Patel looked different. She was dressed for the party in beautiful swirls of orange and yellow, with part of her stomach showing. Maybe part of her stomach showed every day, Benedict
didn’t know. He had never before seen her without the high counter of Mr Patel’s shop in front of her. She had brought with her a big plastic container of warm, spicy samoosas, which
Lungi emptied onto a plate and placed with the other snacks on the dining table.

Benedict had invited both Mr and Mrs Patel, though in truth he was just being polite and he only wanted Mrs Patel there. Mr Patel was a little frightening, with his funny hair and his mouth that
wouldn’t smile. Okay, he was doing good things, keeping drugs away from schoolchildren, but
eh
, it was like sharp pieces were sticking out of him, and Benedict didn’t feel like
getting close. He had guessed that Mr Patel wouldn’t be able to come on account of somebody needing to be in the shop, and he was glad to be right.

He even managed to be a little glad that Jabulani and the rest of the cake ladies weren’t able to come on account of being busy with orders. That meant that business was good. The cake
ladies who did come brought a box with them. It had a secret inside it, and nobody was allowed to look, not yet. Mrs Levine made Mavis stand on a chair to put it on top of the fridge, where it
would sit until it was time.

Together with Giveness and Sifiso, Benedict made a point of going to each of Baba’s work colleagues and their wife or their husband, one by one. ‘I’m Benedict,’ he said
to each of them, shaking them by the hand like a grown-up, ‘Dr Tungaraza’s eldest boy. This is my friend Giveness, and my other friend can introduce himself.’

‘I’m Sifiso. Sifiso Simelane.’ Each time he said it, all three of them grinned. Every
sss
was perfect.

Together with Lungi, Mrs Levine made sure that nobody was ever left with an empty glass or an empty throw-away cup. First she told the children to get stuck in to the snacks, then she told them
to stop or they wouldn’t be able to eat any lamb.

‘Is there cake?’ Sifiso asked Benedict in a whisper, his eyes darting around the table.

Benedict shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Mama wasn’t allowed to do anything, it’s all Mrs Levine.’ He imagined a cake sitting on the large table in the kitchen of the
other house. Auntie Rachel or Lungi would have made it from a box, and all the Tungarazas were going to have to pretend that it was nice.

Leaving Sifiso and Giveness to eat cashew nuts sprinkled with
pilipili
, Benedict went looking for Nomsa. She was in the garden, talking with Vusi.

‘So you’ll live here, with
Gogo
Levine?’ She didn’t look happy.

‘Uh-uh, I’ll still be at home for meals and sleeping. But I’ll have my own study-room here, with a desk. I can stay here late as I like with my books.’

‘That’s nice.’ Nomsa didn’t look very sure. ‘But you’ll be with us for meals?’

Vusi nodded. ‘I promise, nè?’

‘Good.’

It sounded to Benedict like they’d finished talking about that and he wouldn’t be interrupting if he spoke now.

‘Nomsa, you know my hoopoe?’

‘Mm?’

‘I don’t know what Mrs Levine is planning to do with the garden. Can you help me with siSwati asking Samson never to dig under the tree? It’s her grave, he mustn’t dig up
her casket.’

Vusi made a strange face. ‘What are you talking about?’

Benedict told him all about it, and then he showed Vusi and Nomsa exactly where it was, and together they called Samson over and explained everything to him. A little way into hearing it, Samson
took off his hat respectfully, and Benedict knew that he understood and that King Solomon’s queen was always going to be safe.

Then Mrs Levine shouted that the lamb was ready, and everybody came to watch and clap as Uncle Enock carved off pieces, putting them on a big tray that Lungi held for him, while Mrs Levine used
a long, metal spoon to dig the blackened silver onions out of the hot coals.

Their plates loaded, Benedict, Giveness and Sifiso sat to eat in the shade that the sun was making with the house. They began to talk about what they were going to be, and Benedict told them he
was going to be a game ranger.

‘
Eish
, with a rifle?’ A splodge of garlicky butter rested on Giveness’s upper lip.

‘Only for just in case,’ said Benedict. ‘I’m not going to shoot any animals.’

Sifiso said he was starting to think about being a teacher, but Giveness wasn’t thinking anything yet.

‘You could be a game ranger, too,’ suggested Benedict, unwrapping the foil from his onion.

‘With
my
skin? Out in the sun all day?’

As Giveness rolled his eyes, Sifiso began to giggle.

‘What?’

‘Giveness with his umbrella in one hand and a rifle in the other!’

Benedict giggled, too. ‘Say a lion comes and Giveness has to shoot it, then he gets confused. He aims his umbrella at the lion—’

‘I shoot the sky with my rifle!’

They began to laugh, and giddy with excitement at the amount of food, dizzy with the excitement of no more school and Christmas coming in just three days, they couldn’t stop. Benedict knew
that if anybody asked him tomorrow, or even tonight, what it was they were laughing about, he wouldn’t be able to say. They began laughing at something, and then they went on to laugh at
nothing and everything, and they laughed so much that other people came to sit with them to try to find out what was funny. Grace, Faith Innocence, Nomsa, all of them came, and soon all of them
were laughing, too. Then Titi came with Mrs Patel, and in no time Titi was reaching into the neckline of her dress for a tissue to wipe her eyes, and Mrs Patel’s bare stomach was jiggling and
she was throwing back her head and showing the gap where the teeth were missing from her dentures.

Afterwards, after Mavis had cleared away all the plates, Mrs Levine asked Uncle Enock to get down the box from on top of the fridge, the box with the secret inside it. Everybody gathered to look
as Uncle Enock put it on the dining table and Zodwa opened it.