to listen to on my phone. I feel their eyes on me, but when I close my eyes again, they start talking. Neither one is smoking. It’s like two childhood gossips waiting for someone to look the other way. These two are up to something.
I mute my radio, deciding to eavesdrop. If nothing else, it might give me something to tell everyone over lunch.
The minister starts talking, her voice high and anxious.
‘She’s adamant, Fundi; you should have heard her.’
‘I’m sure she’s being dramatic as usual, that’s all. She’s probably excited about the launch and wants things to go smoothly. She’s a narcissist; it’s just about appearances.’
‘You know that’s not true. Fundisiwe, this could mean killing a child.’
It takes everything in my power not to flinch. I’ve chosen the wrong conversation to eavesdrop on. Killing children is not the lunchtime banter I’d hoped to hear. I don’t want to move and draw attention to myself, and I’ve just started a cigarette. My foot begins to tap involuntarily, so vigorously that they stop talking. Though my eyes are closed, I can feel them looking at me. I force myself to tap it even harder, mimicking the beat of an imaginary song.
‘Ray, that won’t happen. By Wednesday, she’ll have calmed down and forgotten about it. She wants something now, but if you don’t remind her, she’ll move on to something else. If you think of her like a toddler, it helps to manage her.’
‘I need you to take me seriously here, Fundi. She’s asked me not to tell State Security, to arrange it all myself. She’s either setting me up or she fully intends to kill this child. She wants me to try and arrest him in the early hours of Friday morning when everyone is already on the way to the KZN house for her presidential jamboree.’
The president. My legs feel like jelly and my tapping foot loses its rhythm. I open my eyes, bopping my head from side to side, continuing the musical ruse, sucking as hard as I can on the cigarette that seems as though it will never end. I have to get out of here; I don’t want to know any more.
They cast their eyes my way. I can feel my heart pulsing in my neck to the rhythm of their speech.
‘Ray, what is it that you think I can do about this?’
‘Stop this before it’s too late. Stop her. We should have stopped her years ago.’
‘And how do you want me to do that?’
‘She knows you can read her, and she’s afraid of that. Make her think her secrets aren’t as safe as she thought they were.’
‘You think I’m more powerful than I am, Ray. I might be able to read minds but I can’t change them.’
In shock, I inhale too deeply and can’t help but cough, the smoke burning my lungs and throat. Members of Parliament inflate their abilities at the best of times, but it’s the first time I’ve heard any of them claim they can mind read. I cast my eyes to the ground, concentrating on the green weeds poking between the courtyard tiles. If the chairperson can read minds, I don’t want her to know I’ve been listening. I’m almost finished my cigarette, and I’m about to stand when the minister starts talking again. If I walk out now, I’ll only draw more attention to myself.
Acting against every instinct, I settle back into the bench and light another cigarette. For the first time in a very long time, I want to phone Adilah, just to hear her voice.
Oblivious to my growing fear, the two women continue:
‘Fundi, you know that the most dangerous thing about her is that she’s unpredictable. We might think she isn’t going to kill any students, but there’s no guarantee. I’m worried for Sindiwe. I’m scared she’s in danger again. You’re a mother – you must understand that.’
The chairperson’s head drops and she looks at the ground, then takes a deep breath, her shoulders raising her pale-yellow polyester jacket as she does so. She is usually unflustered, even in the face of four hundred unruly MPs. But now she looks worried.
‘Okay, but don’t speak to anyone else, Ray. I’ll talk to Noné and see what I can read. She’s very protective of her mind these days; it’s difficult to know what she’s thinking. But I’ll try.
‘But you also need to be honest with yourself. These students are not going to be peaceful forever. They know the only way we will listen to them is if they do something drastic. Violence is the only official language all South Africans understand. Talk to Sindiwe. See if she can calm them down. Get her off Noné’s radar. Better yet, get her away from those protests altogether.’
She looks as though she’s going to leave, turning her body away from the minister and staring up at the sky. Then, as if she’s heard a hilarious joke, she slaps her hand hard against her side. I want to get out of here more than I want to breathe.
‘Wowu. She keeps us on our toes. You never know what’s coming next. Take him out, she said? Yhu.’ She shakes her head, her jowly neck ricocheting with each action.
‘That’s what she said. Take him out. With the Special Forces and the T-Ruths if necessary.’
‘The T-Ruths? I didn’t know they were ready for use.’
‘They’re not.’
They stand in silence for so long, I almost scorch my lips as my cigarette burns down to the filter. Just when I think they have finished talking, the chairperson starts again:
‘If they’re not ready, then how does she want us to take him out?’
‘She doesn’t care. That’s irrelevant to her. She just wants him gone. And when he’s gone, there’s only one person who will take his place, who will become her next target.’
‘Sindiwe.’
‘Sindi’s just waiting to take charge, Fundi. I can feel it in her like I felt it in Chris. That type of leadership does not allow itself to be silenced. If we don’t stop Noné—’
‘Ray, for now you’re going to have to start making it look like you’re going to do what she wants; don’t let her think you’re delaying. You know she has people everywhere.’
The chairperson turns both beady eyes towards me, and I feel a tingling sensation at the nape of my neck. I stand up and move towards the door, trying to remember what it felt like to walk naturally. My knees feel stiff and unbending.
‘She doesn’t have people in my office. I trust my team.’
‘You shouldn’t, Ray. You don’t know what she’s up to.’
‘Can I trust you?’
‘Ray. It’s me. I know it’s not going to make you feel any better, but she isn’t after Sindiwe. That’s in the past. If Noné wanted to hurt either one of you, she could have done it so many times over the years. That’s not what this is about. It can’t be. You need to let it go.’
‘You have more faith in her than I do.’
As I step back into the corridor, they follow close behind me and I have to pause and hold the door open for them. I watch them walk away and realise I’ve been holding my breath too. My heart races from the cigarettes and the adrenalin, and walking back down the corridors I hardly notice the garish décor. All of it feels unreal.
I sneak back into the committee meeting, collapsing into my chair. Sitting here feels even more farcical after what I’ve just heard. Murder, mind reading, eliminating children – and all with the president involved? Wrapped in my thoughts, I’m startled when the MPs finally stand up and the meeting is over.
When I get back to our office, everyone is sitting around the lounge area, eating their lunch and talking about the crazy things they’ve heard their MPs say in committee meetings that day. It’s a ritual we all participate in, to laugh instead of cry.
As I sit down, the mining advisor is retelling a story: