THE BEHEMOTH

By OMOSEYE BOLAJI

The terrain and ambience here in the township was parched and dry – one could hardly believe that intense cold winter had been the order of the day till just about a week ago! That was South African weather for you. I traversed the small ‘location’ knowing I would soon be travelling back to “my” Bloemfontein, the city where I am normally based.


I was taking in the topography and lay-out here, buoyed by the fact that this was my first time here, and it was very unlikely that anybody would know me personally here. Few people were around anyway. I saw a signboard showing a place where I could get a drink and was almost tempted to enter. No, on to Bloem! I thought...

Then around a corner, beside a cellphone shop (where people could make public calls, buy airtime etc) I suddenly saw a woman standing in front of her modest house. What a woman! I could not believe that anybody could be so big...it was incredible. My mind went to the idea of “Behemoth” in the Bible, and I knew this was irreverent of me. But I did not stare at her for more than a few startled seconds; I dislike embarrassing anybody. Anyway, people here were used to her; it was only because I was a stranger here that I had been temporarily taken by surprise. I stared at the ground walking on briskly.

But the big woman suddenly said: “Hey ntate! Hello ntate!” It was clear she was talking to me, but I pretended not to hear, striding on implacably!

Then she shouted, and I had never heard such a loud voice coming from a female in my life! She said: “Ntate Bolaji! Ntate Bolaji!”

I froze. How did this big woman know me, not to talk of my name? There was no way I could pretend not to hear; people must have heard her loud voice miles away! So I turned backwards and went to her. One thing I knew for sure: I had never seen her in my life.

“Dumela, mme,” I said respectfully. “Initially, I didn’t know you were calling me. Actually I am a stranger here...”

“I know,” said she. “But I know you eh; for a few reasons. For one, I have seen your photo in the papers many times. And I know you write books...there is someone who would like to see you, my friend. He is an avid reader, young boy, stays just two houses away. Do you mind meeting him for just a few minutes. He’ll be so thrilled,”

I forced a smile. “No problem,” I said. She walked heavily away, and I looked away, embarrassed by her bulk. Soon she came back with a young man of perhaps 22, 23. Slender, and a bit above average height. He stammered briefly in front of me. “I can’t believe this, sir!” he said. “You in our location! You don’t know me, but you have indirectly written a lot about ‘me’ through your detective series. My name is Tebogo Mokoena!”

I winced. The big woman added, smiling: “Tebogo here has read all the fictional books you wrote on Tebogo Mokoena the detective; over the years he’s always reading and re-reading them from our local library here. He always says maybe he’s meet you one day in the flesh. What a coincidence he’s called Tebogo Mokoena too!”

I smiled; but the young man added to me: “Actually I have not read ALL the books in the Tebogo Detective Mystery series, sir...I know you have published eight of them now; but I have only actually read six of them...many times. I know you have a new one titled Tebogo and the bacchae but I have not seen it. I’ll do anything to have a copy,”

“Maybe ntate has a copy in this bag of his,” the big woman said. “I am sure he is happy to meet somebody called Tebogo Mokoena!” She stared at my bag and I knew I had to do something magnanimous in this small town. Under normal circumstances, it would bring tears to my eyes to part with personal copies of my books; but it so happened that I DID have a copy of Tebogo and the bacchae in my bag; and the big woman somehow seemed to know this!

“I’ll give the young man my personal copy of the book,” I said. “I’ll get another copy for myself,” I opened my bag and took out my copy; gave it to the delighted young man. “Thank you sir!” he whooped.

“It’s nothing,” I said, nodding at ‘the behemoth’. “But I have to hurry now...”