By: Oreratile Gobitsa Motseosi
To the ordinary eye which cared to glance his way, he appeared to be walking aimlessly in the scorching sun. Sweat trickled down his face, stinging his eyes. In his right hand, he held a dirty rag which he used occasionally to wipe his face. His efforts to get rid of the annoying liquid soon proved futile as the dirty rag was drenched. However, he still held on to it.
The man might not have had a particular destination in mind but he had just walked into a busy shopping complex. He carefully studied his immediate surroundings. The bright lights that emanated from banners advertising the latest shop sales. The folk music that was playing from a curio shop nearby. He passed by a restaurant, famous for selling Setswana cuisine. The air was filled with the aroma of dumplings and beef stew, which made him salivate.
He was mesmerized by the people who hurried by, some carrying grocery bags and luggage. Their footsteps echoed as they made contact with polished floors. From where he stood, he knew that it would not be easy to utter a word to these people. He did not possess enough strength to walk at their pace and catch up nor the audacity to call out to them. Luck was soon on his side as he noticed a young lady, who was clad in a pink mini dress and matching stilettos. She took small steps as she was talking on her mobile phone and appeared to be very pleased with what she was hearing on the other end. The man said a silent prayer for her to continue walking at a snail’s pace. She came from the opposite direction.
“Okay, see you soon, bye.” She smiled to herself and came to a halt. She unzipped her bag and put her gadget inside.
“Afternoon sister, please give me two pula?” he said, when she looked up again. He smiled, unaware that his teeth were yellow, the colour of old newspaper left in the sun. He dropped his rag as his hands clasped together prayerfully. In a split second, he noticed a change in her face, her nose wrinkling as her eyes lingered on his hair, unwashed and uncombed, probably an abode for lice. Her gaze settled on his sweaty face and his eyes, from which he had yet to wash the debris of sleep. Her lips twisted when she looked at his torn and soiled shirt which was neatly tucked into an equally soiled pair of jeans. She slightly parted her lips in awe as she looked at his worn-out shoes and noticed that the toes stuck out.
“Sies! Do I look like SOS?” Pink Dress spat on the ground and went past him.
The man stood there, as his stomach growled and grumbled reminding him that he had not eaten in three days. He bent down to recover his dirty rag; as he stood up straight, he was met by a different face. Another young lady, who had a look of concern on her face. She was wearing a simple German print dress and a white chef’s hat on her head. Her name tag read ‘Tebogo’.
“Are you okay, Sir?” the young lady asked.
He could not remember the last time someone asked him if he was okay. “I’m struggling my sister, may I please have two pula before I starve to death.” His eyes begged.
“I don’t have coins on me, sir.”
His heart sank.
“But, I have a food stall nearby; I’ll fix you a plate of food.”
“Thank you ma’am, may God bless you.”
The man sat at the food stall dining area as Tebogo dished his food. A few minutes later, she gave him water to wash his hands before placing a plate of food in front of him. She then swiftly left to assist a customer who had just arrived. Steam first hit his face and his mouth watered before he took a bite. The man stared at the plate. The rice was a small mountain drowned in vegetable soup. Carrots, onions, and tomatoes melted onto every grain. One chicken leg, bigger than his fist, glazed in sauce. Then there was the spinach, at the side of the plate, creamy with a scent of peanut butter. On the bottom sat the mashed butternut, with an aroma of melted brown sugar.
The man took the first spoonful of rice, barely chewing as it went down his throat. It melted in his mouth, warm. He took three more bites, this time chewing a little. Then he took another spoonful and closed his eyes for a moment. This time he chewed thoroughly. Real, salty, warm food, he thought to himself as he opened his eyes and picked up the chicken leg. His teeth tore through the meat as a mixture of sauce and soup dripped down his wrist. He quickly licked it off and continued eating. This time he savoured his food slowly.
Food was such a luxury to him these days, he never knew where his next meal would come from. When his efforts in begging for money, food or piece jobs proved futile, he resorted to scavenging for left overs in garbage cans, which were sometimes rotten. There is a rare kind of mercy in a hot meal from a stranger. Sitting at her table, the cold weight he had been carrying began to thaw.
Tebogo finished serving the customer before joining him at the table.
“You have a gift my sister, not just for cooking but for noticing when someone badly needs saving and actually doing it, that’s what you have done for me today.” he said in between bites.
“You are welcome and please just call me Tebogo. What’s your name?”
“Mothusi.” He shifted on the chair. His stomach pushed tight against his shirt, reminding him that it had been a while since he felt this full.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you end up in the streets?”
He was taken aback. He did not understand why this lady cared so much. Since being on the streets he never had anyone pay this much attention to him. To the world he was a nobody. However, Tebogo was starting to make him feel like he could be somebody again. The memory of events that led him to where he was remained engraved in his mind.
He had worked as a chef for one year at one of the hotels in Gaborone, his first job after completing culinary school. He had rented a bachelor pad in Tlokweng and had a steady girlfriend whom he stayed with. Life was fine until he got retrenched from work. The hotel had lost contracts and the operational costs were high. He had looked for a job for months without any success. Sometimes he landed a piece job here and there but it was not enough to support both him and his girlfriend, not to mention paying the rent. Mothusi would have endured all those setbacks if the person he loved and cared for dearly had not put the final nail in his coffin. He had once suggested they move to a one roomed house but his girlfriend would hear none of it. She was not going to bathe, cook and sleep in the same room and she certainly was not going to share a toilet with ten other people.
“Man up and find a way to maintain our lifestyle. I need a man who can provide,” she had said to him.
He had come home one evening to find the house empty, his partner gone as well as all of the furniture. She’d only left some kitchen utensils and his clothes, which he ended up selling to survive. However, soon he was in rent arrears and was evicted. He would have gone back to his home village of Moremi but his pride would not let him. It would not be manly for him to go back home empty handed and what was he going to do in a small village with little to no job opportunities? Tears blurred his sight as he lamented his sorry tale.
Tebogo patted his shoulder. “I’m sorry you have been though such an ordeal, but you know there is always hope. Come by tomorrow, I may have something for you. The pay is not much but it’s a start.”
Mothusi could hardly believe it. He opened his mouth to speak but the sheer magnitude of his gratitude trapped the words in his throat leaving him completely breathless. His eyes wide and brimming with tears as he stared at Tebogo. The stranger before him who looked into his eyes and saw a human being instead of a disheveled beggar. For the first time in a long time he felt like a man who is capable of making a contribution. Thank the universe for the kind hearted ones like Tebogo.
“Really? I don’t know what to say. Thank you once again. I’m truly grateful.” His voice was a trembling whisper as he wiped tears from the corners of his eyes.
Tebogo smiled and nodded.
He left the food stall with not only a full stomach but hope for a change in his life, even it was just a small one.
Oreratile Gobitsa Motseosi is from the village of Serowe in Botswana. She currently lives in the village of Maun. She writes short stories across different genres, she also writes poetry and essays and has digitally published work in the Petlwana Journal of Creative Literature and the Arts, The Kalahari Review, an online magazine, as well on the Fundza literacy trust website and Hoola Africa website.
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