The Soggy Affair

By OMOSEYE BOLAJI

The New Year had swung into orbit and I was now back in Bloemfontein city, the festive season holidays a thing of the past. I had quite a number of things to do – but I needed a meal first! But alas it was raining quite heavily; luckily enough I had an umbrella and I made my way sturdily to a certain eatery I loved.


I was not far from the restaurant but the rain suddenly intensified as I saw a woman to my right making her way under the rain, quite drenched. I moved close to her and said: “Let’s use this umbrella together; at least you can make it over to that building there where you can have some shelter,”

She smiled. “Thanks Ntate; but I am already drenched by the rain. You need not bother with me – “ But I insisted; and together, under the so-called umbrella we made it to the other side. Now for the restaurant! The lady thanked me and added: “Happy new year anyway,”

At the modest restaurant my eyes were focused on the lady dishing out the food and I made a beeline towards her. But I was temporarily thwarted. A young man threw his arms around me and gushed: “Happy new year Mr Bolaji!” In truth I did not know, or rather did not recognize him but he was in jocose spirits as he added: “It’s a new year and something great has happened to me! I have got my driving license!” he announced.

He was so thrilled by this piece of news that I beamed with him and congratulated him. Food, food…Well, at long last the savoury food was in front of me and I ate the same in ravenous fashion. And it was still raining cats and dogs outside. We could hear the reverberations clearly from where we (the diners) were seated. And then occurred a rather heart-breaking sight.

A white man, drenched in rain carrying a baby (somewhat wrapped up) entered where we were. He was quite bedraggled and most of the people here, especially the women, stared at him; no doubt because of the baby. It became evident that the man was not here to buy food – he cut a disconsolate, impoverished figure. He brought out a small radio and went around telling people he wanted to sell the radio.

"Can you believe that?" a woman near me said. "That white man wants to sell this fine radio for a paltry R20...he must really be suffering. And with a baby too! And nobody seems to want to help him by buying the radio...shame"

"It would be nice if YOU can buy the radio from him," I pointed out, my food more or less finished now. "As you say it is such a bargain!"

The woman bridled. "Where would I get the money from; just after the festive season? But it is rather sad seeing such a poor white with a baby to boot...I wonder about the mother…"

My mind went briefly to a passage from Nelson Mandela's memoir, Long Walk to Freedom where he states that somehow, seeing poor whites seems to upset many black people. Strangely enough that appears to be the case till date!

And so when the white man came, baby in tow, with the radio asking whether I (and those beside me) would buy the radio, I found myself "buying" the radio from him, though I did not need any radio!

People around stared at me, and as is my wont I felt a bit embarrassed. I had finished eating anyway and what I wanted to do next I’d rather do outside, rain or no rain; as I had no wish to play to the gallery. The white man and the child were huddled together just outside and I noticed that the rain had temporarily ceased, though the terrain was soggy.

Quickly I gave the radio back to the astonished white man “I really don’t need it” I said to him rather curtly before he could protest. “Do not worry about the R20 I gave you, and here’s a ten rand note extra for the baby,” I brandished another (R10) note and gave it to him,” I did not want to stare at him, nor receive any thanks. I felt quite depressed really; it seemed to me that the whole thing, just like the weather, was a rather soggy affair!

I moved on swiftly.