Lion of Soweto

Chapter 18

A frown appears on Nolwazi's face. "Which one, sir?"

Bandele picks the Sowettan Independent lying next to him, handing it over. "You don't know me?" His hand rests on his chest.

The lady looks around and then locks eyes with the driver. "Err... I've not seen you here before, sir."

"Xha." Bandele waves a hand, disgusted.

"Sorry, sir. I've not—"

"Check the page." He jabs his left index finger at the paper. "The tender should be somewhere there."

The lady who doesn't read newspapers now considers it her turn to size him up. This must be one of those moneybags who come around thinking they'll win a tender just by asking for it. Helping such men can be problematic in the long run. Is this the supposed VIP her boss asked her to assist – someone who doesn't know the precise tender he's here to lobby for?

Not to make Bandele look foolish, Nolwazi flips through the pages. "There're many published tenders, sir. Which ones are you interested in?"

"The ones that will give me a profit of fifty million rands at least."

"Fifty million rands, sir?" Her brows heighten, jaw-dropping.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong, sir." Knowing too well that tenders of such value are outside her purview, the lady bites her lower lip, looking around. "Can I confirm at the office, sir?"

"Yes...yes. Go and ask your bosses." As she turns around to leave, Bandele adds: "Tell them Bandele de-Sergeant is here for their tenders."

The lady gets curious. That name rings an ear-splitting bell in the community, even if she's yet to meet the person. Can this truly be the Bandele of Soweto whose fame soars so high? His brash manners don't match the name, but she tucks her opinion into her handbag.

Nolwazi sees no need to return to him. How will she tell her boss that a fifty-million rands tender is being discussed at the parking lot? Tenders of such values don't follow the same procedures as those published in newspapers. This imposter must be out of his mind. She meanders into her office and keeps mute.

When Nolwazi refuses to show up and Pono isn't anywhere around, Bandele says to the driver. "Go and call that woman. She's wasting my time here."

"Okay, sir." The driver opens the door to leave.

Now alone in the car, Bandele feels vulnerable seeing onlookers with hard-knocked faces flocking around. Should the driver also keep away, urchins and hoodlums masquerading as harmless job-seekers might attack him. "Come back here, Dumisani!"

The driver returns to his seat.

Just then, a slim averagely-tall man sporting a blue shirt and grey chinos trousers emerges from nowhere, holding a large brown envelope. At first, he appears to be walking towards Bandele's SUV but soon detours.

"You!" Bandele calls out.

"Good Morning, sir. I'm Molefi." The lad straightens out, sounding well-spoken.

"Molefi? Okay. Can you call me a female staff inside? She is ..." He turns towards the driver who reminds him of her name.

"Yes, Nolwazi."

Molefi doesn't recall anyone by that name. He doesn't work here. Neither does he frequent this place. Even so, the municipality is huge; many staff members may answer such a fairly common name.

But drawn to the white Range Rover, Molefi won't walk away from the rich man who might offer him a free ride to town, should he help locate this Nolwazi. He races to the premises with the agility of a kindergarten knowing that most of the officials here aren't efficient. Even if finding the missing lady is unlikely, there's no harm in trying.