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They walked in silence for while careful not to get too tired as they had to go back home that evening. Zag was used to walking long distances, but even so, he occasionally had to jog a little to keep pace with Mother.
Mother’s thoughts switched between thinking about Kura, and humming Mukalo’s song. She seemed to be in an especially good mood. They saw a food stall by the side of the road selling fruit and bottled water.
Mother asked Zag: Would you like a banana?
Yes please! Zag said, grateful that they get to stop for a little while.
When they got to the school they were signed in by a security guard who seemed sterner than he needed to be - but whatever, they got through - and made their way to Mukalo’s hostel.
Mukalo’s school was one of Zag’s favorite places to visit. It was like going to another country. The grass was green and perfectly manicured, and the buildings were new and painted in black and white so that they stood out against the green backdrop. Even the air smelled cleaner here - like somehow there was a Great Air Filter that took out all the pollution that was everywhere else. No wonder it cost so much to keep Mukalo here.
Mama! A playful deep male voice boomed at them from one of the corridors as they walked by. It was unmistakeably Mukalo’s voice, which had broken the year before and made him sound like Father but with boisterous confidence added in.
I’m so glad you could come he shouted as he bounded towards them.
He was wearing sports attire - white shorts, and a white vest with red trimming. His shoes were white too - basketball shoes because that said Chicago Bulls on them. Mukalo was one of the best spear-throwers at the school and he had been practicing spear for the school tournament coming up the next week.
Who’s that? Mother asked - about the skinny boy that Mukalo had just been with.
Oh, that’s my friend Shaka. He’s the best spear thrower in the school, maybe the country, maybe the world!
Oh really? asked Mother
Zag went on. You have to believe me, this guy is INNN SANE! Let me tell you what he did last week against Hando Boys’ School. So he picks up a spear, catch this, just a normal spear - you know like a javelin spear - about six feet long, and instead of running up to the throw line like everyone else, he just stands there on the line. Right on the f…
Mukalo! No swearing. Mother interjected.
Sorry, Ma! But how did you know I was going to? Anyway. Now, this guy, I tell ya, he can’t be more than 5 foot 8, so he’s not big by any standard. he doesn’t look particularly athletic or anything like that. So, anyway, everyone is thinking he just doesn’t know how to do a throw and half the crowd is screaming at him to do a run-up. The other half are just waiting for something to laugh at. He just looks at them and then back at the spear. I’m thinking, wow! This is either going to be very good, or extremely embarrassing. He’s the one who told me he could throw! And he could throw that f…
Mother: Mukaaalo!
Sorry!
And I have friends that can throw that thing, we’re talking 60 feet, 70 feet throws, Not quite professional level, but as good as amateurs can get. Ya dig?
So Shaka lifts up the spear, still standing on the throw line. Now he has everyone’s attention. The place goes silent. I tell ya, every thrower in the place is now thinking about whether or not this is a joke or the moment their precious records would be obliterated.
You won’t believe what happens next. He draws the spear backward - and you should have been there to see his stance. Feet together, waist bent all the way backward, arms further back than his head - almost looking behind him. Never seen anyone bend like that in my whole life. I could see that he knew what he was doing. It’s hard to explain but his body looked like a perfectly tensioned bow, ready to shoot its arrow. I smiled, kind of relieved, you see.
Everybody else must have seen this - or felt it - whatever. Because somebody started chanting: Shaka….
Shaka…
others joined in.
Shaka, Shaka, Shaka
until, you have to believe me it was so loud I wondered if he could focus.
Shaka, Shaka, Shaka, Shaka, Shaka, Shaka, …
But focus he did and he tensed a little, shuffled his feet sideways a little, and threw that … that
Mother: Mukalo!!!
He threw that thing!
The air was crisp and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It had rained a few days before, so conditions were perfect for both throwing and for watching throwing. Everyone was there with their girlfriends and their drinks. To see Shaka do the throw for the first time. And see they did!
That thing went, and went, and went. It was UNN REAL. I could see straight away that he was going to be at least 30 feet beyond anyone I knew. FROM A STANDING START! When the spear landed, I tell you, first there was a moment of pin-drop silence, as we all took in what had just happened, and then an almighty roar as we all realized what we had just been a part of.
I looked over to Shaka. He looked drained and happy in a Zen kind of way. Try to convince me that’s not what a God looks like.
That’s my friend Shaka.
Wow. That’s amazing. Mother said. We brought you some bananas.
Zag noticed that Mother was not happy that her son was too excited with the idea of Mukalo not being the best thrower in the school and not seeming bothered by it. But he put that aside and took everything in as Mukalo showed them around the new hostels that had been built with a grant from the Chinese government.
We’re now getting Chinese teachers in the school as well, Mukalo said.
It’s great because we can learn Chinese as well as English and French now. I’m taking a Chinese class and it’s quite fun. Shaka is too.
Mother reached into her bag and brought out some books, a new pale blue shirt still in its plastic wrapping, and a metallic mathematics set. She held them out to Mukalo and said
Happy birthday!
Mukalo stretched his arms out to receive them and smiled as he did. Hidden underneath the math set was a wad of cash that was meant only for Mother and Mukalo to know about. The exchange was a little clumsy and Zag saw it happen.
Zag already knew beforehand that it was going to happen. Only now, he could verify that what he had “heard” before was real, and accurate.
We’ve got to go and catch the bus, said Mother.
I’ll walk you to the gate, said an obviously beaming Mukalo.
Thank you for coming on my birthday!