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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Teens
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Drama
- Published: 05/29/2014
Passing through the valley of Baca
Born 1993, M, from Pretoria, South Africa.jpg)
It was rather a cold evening on a summer’s day: December 24. The antique shop in Pretoria along Church Street was flooded with individuals, couples and families buying their loved ones gifts for Christmas. We only see this kind of chaos in movies, but believe it or not it also happens in the busy city of Pretoria.
It was just after 6 o’clock. Chris had to get the lead out; it was the only chance left to buy her girlfriend a Christmas present. As he shook a leg and began to run, he could see the shop owner, Mr. Abdul, flipping the notice board to the side where it was printed ‘closed’. He waved his hand up and shouted “Mr. Abdul! Wait”. Luckily Mr. Abdul recognized him and felt pity for him.
At times the shop closes at exactly 5 o’clock. However, today people were pouring in as if someone left a tap open, so for this reason Mr. Abdul and his wife had to open until at least 6 o’clock, and even then at 6 o’clock the shop was still crowded, they had to lock the door not allowing anyone in any longer. Nonetheless, Chris managed to sneak Himself in the crowded shop. There was a bit of shoving at the door as other customers were getting out with their big presents all wrapped up, but that didn’t stop Chris to push his body in, not allowing the customers who were sent back by Mr. Abdul to see him enter the store. This would raise complaints that he was an apple to Mr. Abdul’s eye.
The shop appeared to be much smaller as it was jam-packed. Chris pushed himself to the other side of the shelves and searched for a vase for flowers. He waited for the shop to clear so he could have better space to move around, but it was already late now, Mr. Abdul and his wife had to call it a night. Chris was so tired and he was not finding a perfect vase or any other perfect gift. He quickly picked up an urn that was in its special light box; he once read on the internet that an urn is a beautiful piece to decorate a bookcase. His girlfriend had a collection of books, both of local and international novelists.
Chris ran to the teller where Mrs. Abdul was; she had already packed her stuff and locked the teller machine.
“Chris” Mr. Abdul shouted as he stood by the door. “It’s ok you can pay for it some other time” said Mr. Abdul with a smile.
“Oh” said Chris smiling, but surprised. Mr. Abdul was a kind man, but he never gave out anything for free. “I will come back tomorrow first thing in the morning and pay for it” said Chris, walking towards the door.
Before he could leave, Mrs. Abdul wrapped the box for him with a decorative paper.
“No it’s ok Chris” said Mr. Abdul “tonight we are flying back home for the holidays. Consider it as a Christmas gift.”
Chris apologized for keeping them, and extended his appreciation for the gift and also wished them a safe flight as he walked out, allowing Mr. Abdul to lock the door.
It was already dark outside, however the street lights fought back with their bright orange light. This gave chance to everyone to finish up anything that was keeping them. People were moving up and down along the street with huge bags, going back home for the holidays. At the end of the day it seemed like Pretoria was no home to anyone.
Chris crossed to the other side of the road trying to avoid the crowd, but it was the same as the other side. The streets were so flooded; you could swear that the people in Pretoria only come out at night. He managed to find a taxi to Arcadia. His girlfriend kept on calling, asking for his whereabouts. The time on his watch displayed 19:45;he’s usually home already around this time.
In a taxi; Next to him was a drunken man who kept singing to every song playing in the taxi, this was so annoying Chris even thought of moving to a different seat, but all seats were occupied. He was stuck next to a drunken man.
“I am getting off at Wessels street” Chris shouted, but the driver didn’t hear him due to the music and the loud sound caused by the drunken man. “I am getting off!” he yelled louder this time, causing the driver to hit the brakes so quickly that the drunken man lost balance and his head hit against the seat in front of him.
Chris got off the taxi with anger. “Sir, your change” said the driver.
He turned around, and took his change. He slammed the taxi’s door, as if it was the one driving.
He stayed just around the corner. They rented a room in a flat at the corner of Wessels and Pretorius Street.
When he got to the gate he noticed that he was not having his keys with him. He only needed a key tag from his keys,without a key tag the gate doesn’t open. He phoned his wife, but she refused to come down and open for him,for the reason that he returned home late. He tried to explain that he went to buy her a present, that’s why he was this late. She then told him to wait for someone who would be either going out or going in.
His wife showed up after thirty minutes. It was like waiting for a Metrorail train: you know it’s going to arrive, but you are just not sure what time or after how long.No word was sung, she just stood a meter away and threw the keys to him;they hit the gate and bounced back to a distance of 30cm. He steadily put the gift down and slid his hand in, reaching for the keys. He opened the gate and balanced it with his leg not allowing it to close or swing back, as he was picking up the present with his hands.
“Hey baby” said Chris with a smile,hoping that Patricia would smile back. “Look! I bought you a Christmas gift” he said as he held out the wrapped gift.
“It looks small, smaller than that stupid gift you bought me last Christmas” she said as she walked up the stairs. She was hot under the collar; her face was like an angry lion fighting over meat.
“It wasn’t stupid, you just didn’t like it” said Chris, still keeping a smile on his face. However, he was angered by Patricia’s comment.
“Yes, I didn’t like it because it was a stupid present!” she said as she stopped and turned to face him, her hands were all over the air as she shouted. “Who on earth buys his girlfriend a cleaning machine?”
“A person who wants to live in a clean space” Chris was getting annoyed.
“We have a maid for God sake” she said as she walked up the last stair step.
Their room was located on the 1st floor.
“And she used it very well” replied Chris.
“Oh, is that so?Then you should have given it to her instead. It clearly shows that you bought it for her.” she said as she went in, and she slammed the door furiously, leaving him outside.
The banging sound of the door jogged his memory to the time when he slammed that taxi’s sliding door. He stood there for a while and then went in.
He locked the door, and went to the living room to put the gift next to the Christmas tree. He then went to the kitchen to have a glass of water. Patricia was still preparing dinner. Chris wished to wait for the food to get ready, the aroma shouted his name, but he was so annoyed he just went to sleep right after he had a glass of water. Not even a single word was voiced.
After preparing dinner, Patricia sat alone with destitute in the living room hoping that Chris might come back and have dinner with her, like always. She kept gazing at the wrapped gift; she wanted to open it. She immediately lost her taste when shethoughtabout that gift he bought last Christmas. “What if it was really meant for the maid?” she softly asked herself.
Next morning she woke up on the couch, with a blanket over her. She fell asleep during thenight and Chris covered her with a blanket, as he came to check up on her. Actually he came to ask her to come to bed.
He prepared breakfast for her,and then ordered her to sit down, relax and enjoy her breakfast.Her face was filled with joy. The skirmish was put to rest or was it a real war put to rest?
It was time to open the presents, they always do it before midday. Chris was the first one to open his. It was a ‘Best boyfriend pack’. It had a cup, a plate and a certificate with his name and the phrase “Best boyfriend” written at the top. It wasn’t what he anticipated, but it made him happy anyway. He was overjoyed.
When Patricia opened hers; she was on cloud nine. Her smile was crystal clear.
“An urn? Oh that’s so sweet of you” she placed urn on the coffee table and hugged him,then gave him a warm kiss. “Thank you and I am sorry about last night” she whispered to him.
“It’s ok. Let’s just forget about what happened and enjoy the day” he said looking into her eyes.
Without having to open the urn, she just took it out of the box and placed it on the mini bookcase. It decorated it so well; she couldn’t stop gazing at it. Chris was happy that Patricia loved it.
With so much joy in the house, they decided to go out for lunch.
When they came back later that day, around 6pm they found their couch missing. Where did it go? They questioned each other. It didn’t look like a break in; no window was broken and nothing else other than the couch was missing. Perhaps the couch was tired of the fact that it had no say on who sits on it, and some would even sleep on it.
The building had no surveillance cameras. They had to ask around if anyone witnessed a couch being taken out of their room, unfortunately no one witnessed anything.
Before going to sleep Patricia decided that she should read a book and maybe, just maybe she might forget about the missing couch. When she tried to reach for a book, she accidentally hit the urn and it fell open on the floor, next to the bookcase. Ashes spread out all over the floor.
“Ah! What the hell is this” she screamed so loud that Chris came running from the bathroom, with a towel covering him.
“Hey! What’s wrong?” he asked, not noticing that the urn had fallen on the floor, with ashes beside it.
“What do you mean what’s wrong” she turned around and looked at him with mixed emotions on her face; anger and fear. “How can you do this to me? Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Are you trying to kill me so you can be with her?” she was referring to the maid
“What are you talking about?” he asked. He still didn’t notice that urn was on the floor, she obscured the view.
“How can you buy me an urn with ashes inside it?” she asked as tears ran down her cheeks like a waterfall. Without any answer, she went to the bedroom and slammed the door. This time it was louder than both the main door and the taxi’s door slamming.
It was now that Chris noticed the urn and the ashes next to it. He stood there without any movement, like a statue. At that time, he thought about taking it back to the shop, but he then remembered that Mr. Abdul and his wife went back to India for the remaining holidays.
The ashes were spread on the carpet; it wouldn’t be so easy to put them all back in the urn.He then vacuumed the remaining ashes with the machine he bought last Christmas. He just didn’t care anymore; he just wanted to get the ashes out of the room as quick as possible. For what he knew, it could be someone’s ashes, and it might be the ashes that made their couch disappear.
He woke up very early next morning; he went to Mr. Abdul’s shop, he once saw an e-mail address outside the window’s shop. After all it was the only way to get hold of him.
When he got there, he realized that Mr. Abdul and his wife had packed all their things and left, and it didn’t look like they were ever coming back. The store was empty like and an abandoned village. The door was slightly opened, Chris went in and found a letter lying on the floor; it must have fallen, because it didn’t look like it was placed there for anyone to see it. He opened the letter and it was written to Mr. Abdul, by his younger brother.It read the following: “I want my couch back; we both know that father left it for me and you took it away from me. I may be dying soon, but I still want that couch back. That couch is the only thing father left for me, after you took everything; even the business, but I will not allow you take away my couch”
Chris found Mr. Abdul’s e-mail address and managed to get hold of him too, which didn’t take long. Mr. Abdul explained everything to Chris; the only thing that was going to keep his younger brother away, after his body was cremated, was to put his ashes inside an urn and then put the urn inside a sealed box so that his spirit wouldn’t come out. He told Chris that he had to sell the urn to get his younger brother out of his life, for good.
The only thing that Chris and his girlfriend had to do was not to buy another couch ever again for as long as they live in that room. They then agreed on finding a new place to stay and getting rid of three things, the urn, the cleaning machine and the maid.
After all that it didn’t look like Chris was having an affair with the maid or was he?
Passing through the valley of Baca(Mduduzi Mbiza)
It was rather a cold evening on a summer’s day: December 24. The antique shop in Pretoria along Church Street was flooded with individuals, couples and families buying their loved ones gifts for Christmas. We only see this kind of chaos in movies, but believe it or not it also happens in the busy city of Pretoria.
It was just after 6 o’clock. Chris had to get the lead out; it was the only chance left to buy her girlfriend a Christmas present. As he shook a leg and began to run, he could see the shop owner, Mr. Abdul, flipping the notice board to the side where it was printed ‘closed’. He waved his hand up and shouted “Mr. Abdul! Wait”. Luckily Mr. Abdul recognized him and felt pity for him.
At times the shop closes at exactly 5 o’clock. However, today people were pouring in as if someone left a tap open, so for this reason Mr. Abdul and his wife had to open until at least 6 o’clock, and even then at 6 o’clock the shop was still crowded, they had to lock the door not allowing anyone in any longer. Nonetheless, Chris managed to sneak Himself in the crowded shop. There was a bit of shoving at the door as other customers were getting out with their big presents all wrapped up, but that didn’t stop Chris to push his body in, not allowing the customers who were sent back by Mr. Abdul to see him enter the store. This would raise complaints that he was an apple to Mr. Abdul’s eye.
The shop appeared to be much smaller as it was jam-packed. Chris pushed himself to the other side of the shelves and searched for a vase for flowers. He waited for the shop to clear so he could have better space to move around, but it was already late now, Mr. Abdul and his wife had to call it a night. Chris was so tired and he was not finding a perfect vase or any other perfect gift. He quickly picked up an urn that was in its special light box; he once read on the internet that an urn is a beautiful piece to decorate a bookcase. His girlfriend had a collection of books, both of local and international novelists.
Chris ran to the teller where Mrs. Abdul was; she had already packed her stuff and locked the teller machine.
“Chris” Mr. Abdul shouted as he stood by the door. “It’s ok you can pay for it some other time” said Mr. Abdul with a smile.
“Oh” said Chris smiling, but surprised. Mr. Abdul was a kind man, but he never gave out anything for free. “I will come back tomorrow first thing in the morning and pay for it” said Chris, walking towards the door.
Before he could leave, Mrs. Abdul wrapped the box for him with a decorative paper.
“No it’s ok Chris” said Mr. Abdul “tonight we are flying back home for the holidays. Consider it as a Christmas gift.”
Chris apologized for keeping them, and extended his appreciation for the gift and also wished them a safe flight as he walked out, allowing Mr. Abdul to lock the door.
It was already dark outside, however the street lights fought back with their bright orange light. This gave chance to everyone to finish up anything that was keeping them. People were moving up and down along the street with huge bags, going back home for the holidays. At the end of the day it seemed like Pretoria was no home to anyone.
Chris crossed to the other side of the road trying to avoid the crowd, but it was the same as the other side. The streets were so flooded; you could swear that the people in Pretoria only come out at night. He managed to find a taxi to Arcadia. His girlfriend kept on calling, asking for his whereabouts. The time on his watch displayed 19:45;he’s usually home already around this time.
In a taxi; Next to him was a drunken man who kept singing to every song playing in the taxi, this was so annoying Chris even thought of moving to a different seat, but all seats were occupied. He was stuck next to a drunken man.
“I am getting off at Wessels street” Chris shouted, but the driver didn’t hear him due to the music and the loud sound caused by the drunken man. “I am getting off!” he yelled louder this time, causing the driver to hit the brakes so quickly that the drunken man lost balance and his head hit against the seat in front of him.
Chris got off the taxi with anger. “Sir, your change” said the driver.
He turned around, and took his change. He slammed the taxi’s door, as if it was the one driving.
He stayed just around the corner. They rented a room in a flat at the corner of Wessels and Pretorius Street.
When he got to the gate he noticed that he was not having his keys with him. He only needed a key tag from his keys,without a key tag the gate doesn’t open. He phoned his wife, but she refused to come down and open for him,for the reason that he returned home late. He tried to explain that he went to buy her a present, that’s why he was this late. She then told him to wait for someone who would be either going out or going in.
His wife showed up after thirty minutes. It was like waiting for a Metrorail train: you know it’s going to arrive, but you are just not sure what time or after how long.No word was sung, she just stood a meter away and threw the keys to him;they hit the gate and bounced back to a distance of 30cm. He steadily put the gift down and slid his hand in, reaching for the keys. He opened the gate and balanced it with his leg not allowing it to close or swing back, as he was picking up the present with his hands.
“Hey baby” said Chris with a smile,hoping that Patricia would smile back. “Look! I bought you a Christmas gift” he said as he held out the wrapped gift.
“It looks small, smaller than that stupid gift you bought me last Christmas” she said as she walked up the stairs. She was hot under the collar; her face was like an angry lion fighting over meat.
“It wasn’t stupid, you just didn’t like it” said Chris, still keeping a smile on his face. However, he was angered by Patricia’s comment.
“Yes, I didn’t like it because it was a stupid present!” she said as she stopped and turned to face him, her hands were all over the air as she shouted. “Who on earth buys his girlfriend a cleaning machine?”
“A person who wants to live in a clean space” Chris was getting annoyed.
“We have a maid for God sake” she said as she walked up the last stair step.
Their room was located on the 1st floor.
“And she used it very well” replied Chris.
“Oh, is that so?Then you should have given it to her instead. It clearly shows that you bought it for her.” she said as she went in, and she slammed the door furiously, leaving him outside.
The banging sound of the door jogged his memory to the time when he slammed that taxi’s sliding door. He stood there for a while and then went in.
He locked the door, and went to the living room to put the gift next to the Christmas tree. He then went to the kitchen to have a glass of water. Patricia was still preparing dinner. Chris wished to wait for the food to get ready, the aroma shouted his name, but he was so annoyed he just went to sleep right after he had a glass of water. Not even a single word was voiced.
After preparing dinner, Patricia sat alone with destitute in the living room hoping that Chris might come back and have dinner with her, like always. She kept gazing at the wrapped gift; she wanted to open it. She immediately lost her taste when shethoughtabout that gift he bought last Christmas. “What if it was really meant for the maid?” she softly asked herself.
Next morning she woke up on the couch, with a blanket over her. She fell asleep during thenight and Chris covered her with a blanket, as he came to check up on her. Actually he came to ask her to come to bed.
He prepared breakfast for her,and then ordered her to sit down, relax and enjoy her breakfast.Her face was filled with joy. The skirmish was put to rest or was it a real war put to rest?
It was time to open the presents, they always do it before midday. Chris was the first one to open his. It was a ‘Best boyfriend pack’. It had a cup, a plate and a certificate with his name and the phrase “Best boyfriend” written at the top. It wasn’t what he anticipated, but it made him happy anyway. He was overjoyed.
When Patricia opened hers; she was on cloud nine. Her smile was crystal clear.
“An urn? Oh that’s so sweet of you” she placed urn on the coffee table and hugged him,then gave him a warm kiss. “Thank you and I am sorry about last night” she whispered to him.
“It’s ok. Let’s just forget about what happened and enjoy the day” he said looking into her eyes.
Without having to open the urn, she just took it out of the box and placed it on the mini bookcase. It decorated it so well; she couldn’t stop gazing at it. Chris was happy that Patricia loved it.
With so much joy in the house, they decided to go out for lunch.
When they came back later that day, around 6pm they found their couch missing. Where did it go? They questioned each other. It didn’t look like a break in; no window was broken and nothing else other than the couch was missing. Perhaps the couch was tired of the fact that it had no say on who sits on it, and some would even sleep on it.
The building had no surveillance cameras. They had to ask around if anyone witnessed a couch being taken out of their room, unfortunately no one witnessed anything.
Before going to sleep Patricia decided that she should read a book and maybe, just maybe she might forget about the missing couch. When she tried to reach for a book, she accidentally hit the urn and it fell open on the floor, next to the bookcase. Ashes spread out all over the floor.
“Ah! What the hell is this” she screamed so loud that Chris came running from the bathroom, with a towel covering him.
“Hey! What’s wrong?” he asked, not noticing that the urn had fallen on the floor, with ashes beside it.
“What do you mean what’s wrong” she turned around and looked at him with mixed emotions on her face; anger and fear. “How can you do this to me? Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Are you trying to kill me so you can be with her?” she was referring to the maid
“What are you talking about?” he asked. He still didn’t notice that urn was on the floor, she obscured the view.
“How can you buy me an urn with ashes inside it?” she asked as tears ran down her cheeks like a waterfall. Without any answer, she went to the bedroom and slammed the door. This time it was louder than both the main door and the taxi’s door slamming.
It was now that Chris noticed the urn and the ashes next to it. He stood there without any movement, like a statue. At that time, he thought about taking it back to the shop, but he then remembered that Mr. Abdul and his wife went back to India for the remaining holidays.
The ashes were spread on the carpet; it wouldn’t be so easy to put them all back in the urn.He then vacuumed the remaining ashes with the machine he bought last Christmas. He just didn’t care anymore; he just wanted to get the ashes out of the room as quick as possible. For what he knew, it could be someone’s ashes, and it might be the ashes that made their couch disappear.
He woke up very early next morning; he went to Mr. Abdul’s shop, he once saw an e-mail address outside the window’s shop. After all it was the only way to get hold of him.
When he got there, he realized that Mr. Abdul and his wife had packed all their things and left, and it didn’t look like they were ever coming back. The store was empty like and an abandoned village. The door was slightly opened, Chris went in and found a letter lying on the floor; it must have fallen, because it didn’t look like it was placed there for anyone to see it. He opened the letter and it was written to Mr. Abdul, by his younger brother.It read the following: “I want my couch back; we both know that father left it for me and you took it away from me. I may be dying soon, but I still want that couch back. That couch is the only thing father left for me, after you took everything; even the business, but I will not allow you take away my couch”
Chris found Mr. Abdul’s e-mail address and managed to get hold of him too, which didn’t take long. Mr. Abdul explained everything to Chris; the only thing that was going to keep his younger brother away, after his body was cremated, was to put his ashes inside an urn and then put the urn inside a sealed box so that his spirit wouldn’t come out. He told Chris that he had to sell the urn to get his younger brother out of his life, for good.
The only thing that Chris and his girlfriend had to do was not to buy another couch ever again for as long as they live in that room. They then agreed on finding a new place to stay and getting rid of three things, the urn, the cleaning machine and the maid.
After all that it didn’t look like Chris was having an affair with the maid or was he?
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