THE BEGUILING OUTING

By OMOSEYE BOLAJI

Early January. Vestiges of New Year Celebrations. I was in the South African toropo (city) of Bloemfontein in somewhat desultory fashion, when a female acquaintance saw me, came to me. We talked, “catching up”, as they say. Then my phone rang.

It was Sibusiso, a friend/acquaintance of mine; also a poet of sorts. “Mr Bolaji,” he thundered into the phone. “Right now I have so much extra money and I have not seen you for a long time. Let’s have lunch and drinks unlimited at the Waterfront NOW. Please! I am already at the Ocean Basket. You can bring anybody with you, male or female; but preferably female! Meet me there soonest if possible, and it’s jabulane (enjoyment) time,”

I sighed. The lady beside me asked what was going on and I told her. Like many black women she was excited about “enjoying at the Waterfront” – a famed place where people (mostly comfortable whites) can let their hair down, enjoy near the waters, luxuriate in the salubrious breeze, impressive edifices etc. “Are you crazy?” said she. “You say the guy said you can even bring a companion along…let’s go there now and enjoy!” So we went to the Waterfront.

Sibusiso was already there at the “Ocean Basket” section, enjoying a few ice-cold drinks. It was incongruous to see him seated alone, at a table meant for four people. “Doesn’t he have any friends; any woman?” my lady companion asked. But before I could reply, we were already beside Sibusiso who greeted us fulsomely.

“Hantle! (fine)” he said. He stared at the lady with me “Ah, it’s so nice having feminine company too!” He exchanged pleasantries with her. Sibusiso was around 40 years old, charming and always smiling. “Please don’t be shy or stingy. Order anything you want! It’s all on me!” he beamed. “I have not seen Ntate Bolaji for months; we only see him in the papers!”

It was a wonderful time had by all as exotic meals and drinks flowed. The lady enjoyed herself a lot. She became quite cosy with Sibusiso. He spoke frankly, even intermittently referring to the time he had spent behind bars, in jail (without his going into details). This did not faze our lady companion as she cuddled close to him (the power of money?) happily gave him her cell number, and talking liberally about herself. When it was all over (in the evening), with all of us sated at his expense, she threw her arms around him and gave him an almighty hug. “Call me,” she said, a seductive smile on her face.

My female companion was delectably drunk. As she kept on repeating, she could not remember the last time she had had such a wonderful time. I escorted her to her place (also in the city). “Well thanks for your company,” I said, preparing to leave.

“By the way,” she said, suddenly focusing. “Apparently, Sibusiso was in jail for some time. Such a nice man. What did he do? Some sort of fraud? Or don’t you know what his offence was?”

Rather indignantly, I retorted that of course I knew what Sibusiso had done that had landed him in jail for years. I told her that he had killed his wife, stabbed her viciously many times whilst putting an end to her life. The lady flinched.

“A murderer! A wife killer!” she shouted. “And you let us go to him for drinks and food! How can you do this to me?”

“Come on,” I said peaceably. “You persuaded me, us, to go to him. You remember? You enjoyed yourself a lot there. You insisted on giving him your phone number. You hugged him. You said he’s a good man. The man has served his time in jail; doesn’t he deserve to be treated decently now that he’s out?”

But the woman was still angry. She shouted epithets at me and said I had “disappointed” her. How could I do this? I sighed. Women! What could I do?