It takes Tembeka exactly 5 minutes to put on her sexy new pink t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Not a bad feat for somebody who usually takes at least 20 minutes in front of the mirror to get ready for class...but, eish, its 6.45 and Stephen said 7.00 in front of the main entrance. 'I’m never going to make it’, she mumbles under her breath...quick, quick brush your teeth – who knows what is going to happen tonight...oh my...what am I even thinking...this is a guy from Stellenbosch...my dad’s biggest nightmare come true...his precious daughter with a white guy? And an Afrikaaner on top of it all...ach...I’ll think about this later. Now I need to get going...where are my earrings...and my bag?
Finally Tembeka has all her stuff together and heads out of her room...oh my, there is Thandi and Joe, the two biggest gossips in her residence...no way she can sneak past them without them noticing...’Hi Tembeka, where are you up to?’ asks Thandi promptly. ‘Just going out for a bit...’ ‘In that nice t-shirt, on a Sunday evening? Tell us the truth...’ Tembeka sits down – maybe it’s not a bad thing to discuss this issue quickly with her friends. Ask them for advice. A bit of waiting makes the heart grow fonder...or something like that. ‘You know that hunk today at the game, the one with the green eyes and black hair who asked for my phone number? Well, he just called and asked me whether I want to meet him at a braai in Mowbray...’ ‘And?’ ‘Well...I kind of said yes, and now I am in a bit of a rush to get there...’
‘ Wait – that guy, that Afrikaaner guy? You can’t be serious’, says Thandi. ‘What do you want from him? What would your family say if they found out? Are you going to date a white guy behind their backs, just because of some sparkling green eyes? Just think about the consequences! What if you really fall for that guy...how are you going to ever bring him home? I would just cut my losses and forget him as quickly as possible...’
‘Hey, hey, calm down’ replies Tembeka, ‘I am just meeting him for one drink...no talk of lobola yet...’. ‘You are right’, adds Joe,’uzenzile akakhalelwa...it’s her choice...if you like him, go for it. I mean, it’s the new South Africa, enjoy yourself as long as you can...we are students for god’s sake, these should be our times to experiment, isn’t it...just imagine, maybe his father has a wine farm and one day he’ll take you there...I wish I were you...love knows no boundaries...go follow your heart!’ Tembeka looks at Joe with relief, at least one who understands her a bit, although Joe has always been a bit too cheesy for her taste. ‘Thanks girls for your advice, very much appreciated, but now I really need to rush...I’ll tell you tomorrow how it went!’
Posted by Daniela
What do you think Tembeka and Stephen are going to talk about tonight? What are the things that could interest both of them? Music? University life? Politics?
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
Chapter 2
“... have a baby by me baby be a millionaire have a baby by me...” Tembeka rolls over her pillow to reach her ringing cell phone that is playing her favourite rapper ‘50 Cent’. It is 6.30 pm and she had not intended to nap for so long. She blames her lethargy on the warm Stellenbosch sun that has a way to soothe your soul, slow down a hectic body and delay any form of thought related to engineering. Gosh! She still has to complete her reference section of her Engineering English technical report that is due for tomorrow at 8.30 am!
‘Thank goodness Brigitte called now or I could so easily have slept until morning!’ thought Tembeka as she drags herself to answer the phone: ‘Hello’ she murmurs. ‘Hi is that Tembeka?’ a deep male’s voice jolts her awake. ‘It is not Brigitte, can it be? No! It can’t?’ thought a shocked Thembeka. ‘Y..ye..yes this is Tembeka’ she started, shaking like a single leaf left on an autumn windblown tree. She could feel her stomach go into instant knots of anxiety and excitement. Her heart is racing and her cell phone slips out of her hot sweaty hand. ‘No!’ She yells as she grabs the cell before it reaches the floor. ‘I mean yes, yes this is her’. Tembeka composes herself.
‘It’s me, Stephen, Stephen Botha, I am the one who asked you for your number this afternoon’ the voice carries on, ‘ I am sorry for knocking into you like I did today, but this was the only way that I could make contact with you. I’ve been asking about you at CPUT all of last week at the rugby tournament, but no one was able to get me your cell number. I tried your e-mail but no luck. And I lost you in the crowd at the cafeteria. So two of my closest friends, who are also rugby players, help to pass the ball ‘out’ in your direction so that I could take the ‘pass in’ giving me only a few seconds to talk to you. Sorry that I pressurised you into giving me, a total stranger, your cell number. I was wondering if there is any possibility that we could meet this evening. Our team has been invited to a braai at the CPUT residents in Mowbray. Please could I meet you this evening? Hello, hello, are you there?’
Tembeka’s mind and body are frozen. Her lips will not part to say anything! Suddenly she thought of her Gogo reminding her before she left Eastern Cape ‘yes my child, a good African boy, no matter Xhosa or Zulu... a good African boy for good African sons’. She could hear the voice in her mind reply ‘Yes Gogo, a good African boy...no matter Xhosa or Zulu... from Stellenbosch!’ She blurted: ‘Who? Well, em, ok’.
‘Great’ said an enthusiastic Stephen. ‘I’ll look out for you at the Main entrance near the security. I’ll be there at about seven ‘o clock. I look forward to seeing you then’.
‘Great!’ repeated a shell shocked Tembeka. ‘See you at seven’. And she hung up.
As Tembeka rushed to her wardrobe to find something appropriate to wear, she offered her humblest apologies to all deserving parties: ‘I am so very sorry Gogo for not looking hard enough for a good African Xhosa or Zulu son, I am sorry dear ancestors for disobeying my Gogo, I am sorry Ms Ogle I am not going to be able to hand in my report tomorrow ... but I going to meet a good looking boy from Stellenbosch, Stephen Botha, the grape farmers’ son with the deep sea green eyes that sparkle!
Posted by Aysha
Do you think that it is a good idea for Tembeka to break with tradition and go against her grandmother's wishes?? Please leave a comment.
‘Thank goodness Brigitte called now or I could so easily have slept until morning!’ thought Tembeka as she drags herself to answer the phone: ‘Hello’ she murmurs. ‘Hi is that Tembeka?’ a deep male’s voice jolts her awake. ‘It is not Brigitte, can it be? No! It can’t?’ thought a shocked Thembeka. ‘Y..ye..yes this is Tembeka’ she started, shaking like a single leaf left on an autumn windblown tree. She could feel her stomach go into instant knots of anxiety and excitement. Her heart is racing and her cell phone slips out of her hot sweaty hand. ‘No!’ She yells as she grabs the cell before it reaches the floor. ‘I mean yes, yes this is her’. Tembeka composes herself.
‘It’s me, Stephen, Stephen Botha, I am the one who asked you for your number this afternoon’ the voice carries on, ‘ I am sorry for knocking into you like I did today, but this was the only way that I could make contact with you. I’ve been asking about you at CPUT all of last week at the rugby tournament, but no one was able to get me your cell number. I tried your e-mail but no luck. And I lost you in the crowd at the cafeteria. So two of my closest friends, who are also rugby players, help to pass the ball ‘out’ in your direction so that I could take the ‘pass in’ giving me only a few seconds to talk to you. Sorry that I pressurised you into giving me, a total stranger, your cell number. I was wondering if there is any possibility that we could meet this evening. Our team has been invited to a braai at the CPUT residents in Mowbray. Please could I meet you this evening? Hello, hello, are you there?’
Tembeka’s mind and body are frozen. Her lips will not part to say anything! Suddenly she thought of her Gogo reminding her before she left Eastern Cape ‘yes my child, a good African boy, no matter Xhosa or Zulu... a good African boy for good African sons’. She could hear the voice in her mind reply ‘Yes Gogo, a good African boy...no matter Xhosa or Zulu... from Stellenbosch!’ She blurted: ‘Who? Well, em, ok’.
‘Great’ said an enthusiastic Stephen. ‘I’ll look out for you at the Main entrance near the security. I’ll be there at about seven ‘o clock. I look forward to seeing you then’.
‘Great!’ repeated a shell shocked Tembeka. ‘See you at seven’. And she hung up.
As Tembeka rushed to her wardrobe to find something appropriate to wear, she offered her humblest apologies to all deserving parties: ‘I am so very sorry Gogo for not looking hard enough for a good African Xhosa or Zulu son, I am sorry dear ancestors for disobeying my Gogo, I am sorry Ms Ogle I am not going to be able to hand in my report tomorrow ... but I going to meet a good looking boy from Stellenbosch, Stephen Botha, the grape farmers’ son with the deep sea green eyes that sparkle!
Posted by Aysha
Do you think that it is a good idea for Tembeka to break with tradition and go against her grandmother's wishes?? Please leave a comment.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Make a suggestion please...
Chapter One
Tembeka rubbed her eyes. She felt a little bored. She had agreed to come to the rugby match with Brigitte because she loved Stellenbosch. The oak-lined avenues and the streams in the specially built gutters. Last time she had taken her shoes off and dangled them in the freshly running water. The coolness stimulated them but she didn't move.
She watched the Matie students as they were called. The girls were pretty and the guys looked so macho...apart from the geek with the pile of books and the huge spectacles. 'Stop it', she chastised herself, 'I am sure he is a wonderful friend and I'd never have to save up to have my computer fixed.' There were very few students walking alone. Her eyes met those of a really wow guy on the opposite side of the road. 'Mmm,' she thought and closed her eyes.
'Ow! What are you doing?' she yelped as she was knocked sideways by a body clutching an oval-shaped ball. A sweaty hand helped her up and she blinked. The person in front of her was tall with wide shoulders and black hair flopping over a broad forehead and green eyes that were sparkling.
'Oh, I know what I am doing,' the lips moved in reply. 'It was the only way I could get to meet you before the game is over. Give me your cell number quickly. I'll remember it, Please. Please. They are waiting for me to throw the ball in.'
He sounded so serious. The moment seemed frozen. She was frozen. 'What do I do? I don't give my cell number to any stranger. ' In the same split second she rattled off, '072-555 7890.'
'o72-555 7890,' he repeated. 'Tonight.' And he was lifting the ball up to throw it into the lineout. Men's voices shouted numbers in Afrikaans which she couldn't understand. Suddenly a tall player leaped seemingly to the sky, grabbed the ball and passed it on. The game moved on. He was gone with the rest of the team, moving the ball forward to score a try.
She knew about tries. You scored five points with a try and another two if a player managed to kick the ball between the posts. But that was it. She wondered why they stood in a line, one behind the other. She caught herself thinking, 'Why are you even wondering about what they are doing? Just now you were falling asleep. Come on, Tembeka, be honest with yourself? Yes, he was gorgeous, yes, he had the greenest eyes you have ever seen, yes, you gave him your number...' She straightened her corn braids and her t-shirt. 'You can't take him home to the Eastern Cape. They won't accept him as a man.' She tried to imagine him dining in the next room because he couldn't sit with the other men according to tradition.
She took her hand out of her pocket and looked at her cell phone. What was the point of even waiting. He couldn't have been serious in any case.
Tembeka rubbed her eyes. She felt a little bored. She had agreed to come to the rugby match with Brigitte because she loved Stellenbosch. The oak-lined avenues and the streams in the specially built gutters. Last time she had taken her shoes off and dangled them in the freshly running water. The coolness stimulated them but she didn't move.
She watched the Matie students as they were called. The girls were pretty and the guys looked so macho...apart from the geek with the pile of books and the huge spectacles. 'Stop it', she chastised herself, 'I am sure he is a wonderful friend and I'd never have to save up to have my computer fixed.' There were very few students walking alone. Her eyes met those of a really wow guy on the opposite side of the road. 'Mmm,' she thought and closed her eyes.
'Ow! What are you doing?' she yelped as she was knocked sideways by a body clutching an oval-shaped ball. A sweaty hand helped her up and she blinked. The person in front of her was tall with wide shoulders and black hair flopping over a broad forehead and green eyes that were sparkling.
'Oh, I know what I am doing,' the lips moved in reply. 'It was the only way I could get to meet you before the game is over. Give me your cell number quickly. I'll remember it, Please. Please. They are waiting for me to throw the ball in.'
He sounded so serious. The moment seemed frozen. She was frozen. 'What do I do? I don't give my cell number to any stranger. ' In the same split second she rattled off, '072-555 7890.'
'o72-555 7890,' he repeated. 'Tonight.' And he was lifting the ball up to throw it into the lineout. Men's voices shouted numbers in Afrikaans which she couldn't understand. Suddenly a tall player leaped seemingly to the sky, grabbed the ball and passed it on. The game moved on. He was gone with the rest of the team, moving the ball forward to score a try.
She knew about tries. You scored five points with a try and another two if a player managed to kick the ball between the posts. But that was it. She wondered why they stood in a line, one behind the other. She caught herself thinking, 'Why are you even wondering about what they are doing? Just now you were falling asleep. Come on, Tembeka, be honest with yourself? Yes, he was gorgeous, yes, he had the greenest eyes you have ever seen, yes, you gave him your number...' She straightened her corn braids and her t-shirt. 'You can't take him home to the Eastern Cape. They won't accept him as a man.' She tried to imagine him dining in the next room because he couldn't sit with the other men according to tradition.
She took her hand out of her pocket and looked at her cell phone. What was the point of even waiting. He couldn't have been serious in any case.
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