Lion of Soweto

Chapter 23

He doesn't count cash, credit card is breakable

When dollars go down, we're still in business

Other blessers beware; no one compares

The only blesser that can bless a blesser

A thousand ladies on queue, their mothers are clapping

The new Sbu-de-Sergeant elevated above peers

Orlando bows, Soweto salutes

After opening his eyes, Molefi finds Bandele on his feet, jaw on the floor. The laughter that follows reverberate six houses away. Pono, the driver and the security guys exchange puzzled gazes at Bandele's unusual laughter.

The Soweto Lion suddenly stops laughing: "M-o-l-e-f-i!"

Laughing continues.

Molefi bows his head, hands cupped in front of his groin. Pleasing though the boss's reaction, it serves him better to stay humble, allowing the big man to appraise his effort.

Bandele won't keep him waiting for long. He perches on the armrest of the chair closest to his boy. "Start again. I want to hear everything you just said about me."

Molefi raises his hands and tilts his neck upwards. In a voice louder than before, he repeats the praise-rant.

All hail Bandele, the Lion of Soweto...

"I am an extra-ordinary, a king in Polemann Street? I bless blessers." Bandele's laughter changes gears.

He lifts off the chair, strolling around, ruminating. "ATM in my kitchen? Bitcoins in my wardrobe?" He faces Molefi, squinting. "Where did you see ATM in the kitchen?"

"I made it up, sir... I brought it from my head."

"You sat down to think about all that?"

"Yes, sir."

Bandele drops to the chair and asks Molefi to do so.

Staying mute for a bit, he glances at the new hire appreciatively. "You're the best person to work here with me. Those never think of praising me, even with all the good things I do for them. I like the way you do things. Since you started yesterday, you make me happy."

Bandele looks around. "Did you take something this morning?"

"Not yet, sir."

"Get something to drink, quick." He snaps his fingers. "Pick from the fridge. Take anything." He points at the bar, about which Pono had warned of the boss's sentimental attachment.

"I'll drink later, sir. I just want to ask what I can do for you this morning."

"Get yourself something to drink first! I'm too happy with you. These things you say, no one says them in Soweto."

Bandele laughs again. "Take wine or vodka or whiskey. Take ten of them, or twenty, or are you one of those who can't drink wine in the morning?"

"Not really, sir." Molefi keeps his head on the ground, heading to the bar area to open the fridge. His eyebrows rise at the number and variety of liquor which Pono spent two hours arranging yesterday. Of all the assorted brands on display, the lad pours himself some Ceres juice. Getting tanked-up so early will be counter-productive. That the boss encourages it won't be an excuse.

"Should I bring you wine, sir?" He asks Bandele.

"No, just take for yourself." Bandele plods around.

To Molefi's chagrin, Bandele switches on a chat-friendly face, encouraging a conversation between the two, during which the subordinate credits his effort for changing the boss's demeanour. A morning praise-rant will be part of his daily duties, but that will be when the big man's moods drop south.