A Chair and Two Men
This is a fable of magical realism in the style of Samuel Becket. Set in a post-apartheid South African township in the year 2029. It features the repetitive actions,the stripped-down prose,circular dialogue, the existential themes of absurdity and waiting,made famous by Beckett's work.POSTSCRIPT!Please live a nice comment to encourage me.Thank you my dear friend...The author
The road,if one can call it that, is of red dust and broken promisesThe two men are there.They are there, or somewhere like there, for what feels like some time.One is called Fakude.The other Mavusana.They have a chair.
'' We wait,'' says Fakude.
''Yes,'' says Mavusana.''We wait.''
''For what?''says Fakude.
'' Something,'' says Mavusana.'' Or someone.It's unclear.''
The chair is a magical thing,in a way.It is a perfectly ordinary plastic garden chair you buy at Faching's backyard store after you give the Makololo guard some lose change.But when you sit in it, it speaks a mixture of Fanakalo and Serolong.If you know Fanakalo and Serolong you will not speak to it in neither Fanakalo nor Serolong.You will deduce its gift of tongue when it speaks not with words but with a deep,resonant vibration.A memory.A hope.A past life.A future.One cannot distinguish which.
Fakude sits in the chair.He feels the vibration.It is a story. A story of a long-ago protest, of flags-at a time you knew the fat ones always toyi-toyi in front. A time of flags and freedom songs.It is a powerful vibration.Let's Bosa nova.A terrible vibration.
''What is it saying?'' asked Mavusana
''It is a story,'' said Fakude. ''A story of a long-ago protest.''
'' Is it a good story?'' asked Mavusana.
'' It is a story,'' said Fakude.''I want to bosa nova.It vibrates,''
Mavusana takes his turn.He sits in the chair.He feels the vibration.This time,it is different. It is a time of a long-ago future. A time of clean houses and full stomachs. A powerful vibration.
''What is it saying?'' asked Fakude
''It is a story,'' said Mavusana. ''A story of a long-ago future.''
''Is it a good story? asked Fakude.
''It is a story,'' said Mavusana.I want to bosa nova. It vibrates.''
They repeat this ritual.Fakude sits.The chair vibrates with the past.Mavusana sits, the chair vibrates with the future.They never sit at the same time.The stories are never the same, yet always feel the same'. The vibrations are not loud, not insistent. A quiet hum in the vast silence.
'' We are waiting,'' says Fakude.
''Yes,'' said Mavusana, ''For something.''
''Someone,'' says Fakude. ''We wait for nothing or mahala. Or nothing at all.''
A third man, thin and twitching,comes along. He looks at the chair.He looks at the two men.
''Can I sit?'' he asks.
''No morena,'' says Fakude. '' We are waiting.Ons dak nie.Ons phola hie.''
'' For something,says Mavusana.
''Ah, says the man. '' I see.Yes.Waiting.''
The man sits in the dust. He watches them,silently. Fakude sits in the chair.The chair vibrates.The third man watches.They all wait.The waiting is the work.The vibration is the hope. The stories are the meaning.The waiting is the meaning.The silence is the end.The silence is the beginning.
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