Flash Fiction (The Lesson and other stories) - 1. Chapter 1

My son, you once asked me what values I had learned in life, and I could not answer. Now, memory is not what it used to be, and before it fades completely, I would like to answer that question.

As a young soldier during the 1970's, I was sent to a remote camp in what was then known as South West Africa. It was the rainy season. In the camp was a gravel landing strip dangerously close to the rising waters of the Chobe River. One evening I stood guard beside two Dakota's when several tormented cries blasted my ears. I crept around the aircraft and came upon the magnificent site of a hippopotamus cow giving birth.

The crown and torso of her calf slopped into the water. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I came here to kill, not to witness birth, and as dusk settled into the quiet fear of night I learned the value of life as only nature could teach.

BACKING OUT

The unmistakable sound of rolling tyres on smooth tarmac. Cold sweat envelopes her body. Her tongue lies heavy in a dry mouth. Fingers tremble.

A door slams. A knock on the window. A muffled voice.

‘Are you okay? Can I help?’’

She hears the word ‘help’, looks up at the dark outline of a man's face pressed against the window; there's no backing out of this one.

She rolls down the window slightly. Her lips tremble. Sharp teeth catch her tongue. ‘The…the car won’t start.’

‘Got any cables?’

‘The car's new. Got her yesterday. I didn't think to check for cables.’

‘Well, even a new car can be dud,' he says, grinning. 'I’m Skate Prim. What's a good looking woman doing on a lonely road?’

Liezl has no answer. She steps from the vehicle, knife in her hand poised to strike.

AN UNEXPECTED LOSS

Nompondo lives in the back room of a house that belongs to a successful business woman. On weekends she cleans the house and is not expected to pay rent.

One day the woman says, “Nompondo, I want to build you a shower and an extra room. You work hard for me and I want to give something back.” On hearing this, Nompondo’s eyes fill with joy as she slinks away to begin her shift at the local supermarket for R300.00 a week.

At the end of the shift she returns to find the house surrounded by police cars and a mortuary van.

“What happened?”

A policeman asks, “Do you know the woman who lived here?”

“Yes.”

“She was hijacked and shot.”

Nompondo sinks to her knees. A neighbor laughs, “Now you will have to find another woman to build you a shower and a room.”

After the funeral, Nompondo packs her belongings when a man dressed in a black tie introduces himself as a lawyer.

“You going somewhere?”

“I cannot live here. It is not my house.”

“Her death was sudden. But, sometimes good things come from death.”

“I do not understand.”

“She left you the house in her will.”

COLD SHOULDER

Dad ignores the roast chicken dinner I prepared, it might as well have been cold shoulder of turkey instead. I smile at him, he scowls and retires early without saying goodnight. I should never have taken his last ten bucks to gamble and will give it back. But the sixty grand I won is mine, until he trashes the attitude.

THE FRIEND

“I’ll never forgive you.” She said, flashing a fast finger by his nose, her hand came down on the table, and a vase with a single red rose in it spilled over. In slow motion crashed to the floor and lost several petals as it fell.

His eyes rolled up and he released a deep sigh, “How can you say that? How was I to know you were in love with me? You never said.”

“You never asked. Besides, it’s all hopeless now.”

“I am sorry, Angie.”

She dabbed a tear rolling down her cheek.

The sun, setting beyond the city buildings, burned red and danced a last shivver.

“Sorry is too late, and besides how can you be sorry for something that was always there, always intended. I should have seen it last year when you went off with Shannon at that party and you didn’t come back for 20 minutes. I should have known that Shannon would be involved here somewhere. Come to think of it he’s a little fem. Fuck it I should have seen all this.” She turned her back on him. “I thought you were straight, you know, heterosexual. A boy that likes girls. How can I trust you again? You never told me, Salvo, and it hurts. It hurts so much.”

He caressed her gently. “Will you still be my friend?”

She stepped away from him. Her eyes red with emotion. Face wet from weeping. She managed a weak smile and a relieved laugh. Before her stood a lovely man. Yes, lovely. Not butch or fem or queer or homosexual. A lovely human being. She would always love him, and she will never forget him.

“No.”

THE AFGHAN WOMAN

She scrambled for our Land Rover, squealing for help in her native language, clawing at air for a freedom she could never possess. Her face, arms and legs were covered in the Burka.

Joa, my driver, ignored the Afghan woman’s pleas and accelerated as my camera clicked and whirred. A man wearing a green turban aimed his AK47 at us. She scrambled in the dust behind the vehicle and her language had changed to broken English.

"Please, help me! Please to take me!"

I screamed, "Stop Joa. Stop the damn vehicle!"

I heard the fear in her voice.

I felt her heart breaking.

A bullet ricocheted off the vehicle. He accelerated.

I couldn’t let this woman stay here to suffer a moment longer.

‘Stop!’ I yelled. He applied brakes, not quite stopping, just enough for her to catch up and he accelerated as she grabbed my hand. I pulled her up as another shot rang out and clutched her to my chest.

She was safe.

Safe from forced marriages, safe from being denied basic education, safe from being poisoned if she dared allow her daughters to go to school.

We stopped when it was safe, and she was still in my arms.

I released her gently. She fell off the seat and onto the soft desert sand, a gaping hole in the side of her body.

She had been so still in my arms.

So still.