Book: Tebogo and Uriah Heep
Written by Omoseye Bolaji
ISBN: 978 – 0 – 620 – 79380 – 3
Reviewer: Paul Lothane
Another Tebogo
Mokoena adventure…many years after the last one (Tebogo and the bacchae)
came out. For me I wondered whether there would be a patent – and painful –
deterioration in the powers of the author. Would the story have enough elements
of mystery to make it a success? I was not to be disappointed.
In Tebogo and Uriah Heep, the author sets
the tone from the very beginning with a powerful opening chapter (the longest
chapter in the work). We are already embroiled in the mystery of the tragic end
of Bra Uriah’s daughter, Anne. The tension reaches a dynamic, almost
frightening peak at the end of the (first) chapter:
‘… Biggie appeared to be about to announce that we should be leaving, when Uriah said: "Sirs, I humbly implore you to follow me to another section of this wretched house. I never show the room to people, but somehow I believe you should be exceptions...shall we?".
I had a premonition of disaster, but I quickly told myself not to be childish, or melodramatic. Surely Bra Uriah, despite being rather "strange" could not wish to harm us?
Biggie and I followed Uriah to a makeshift room at the very back of the "house". The door was locked, and Uriah opened it.
"Kena, Sirs," he said. I hated it, but my heart was beating faster than normal. Biggie was ahead of me, as we entered the room. The first thing that came to my mind was that this was something of a shrine. Items of female clothing were scattered all over, with toy dolls, trinkets, beads, small bags, and minuscule underwear. I saw coloured pencils and crayons. My heart nearly skipped a beat when I saw a blood-soaked bed-sheet in a corner...and smears of blood on the adjacent wall.
"What the h--- !" Biggie said, disoriented.
But Uriah was looking very placid and reverential. He said: "Sirs, this room always reminds me of my dear daughter. I believe the whites call it memorabilia, souvenirs...nothing to be afraid of. The items here contain stuff of my girl as she grew up..." He stared at me.
I was mopping my brow. He said to me: "Nothing to be afraid of, Sir Mokoena. I loved my daughter...".
"It's...just the blood that unnerved me a bit," I said. "I..."
Uriah said: "it's my blood," he said. “I had to do it. Had to suffer too once I heard what happened to her. Cut myself rather sharply on the legs and bled like a pig...not that I wanted to kill myself; I can assure you that I am a humble man, and not the suicidal type,".
Then something happened that sent shivers up my spine. Uriah suddenly fell onto the floor and began to hammer on it with his fists. He was like an animal in intense agony; a keening, traumatised creature.
"Ntate Modimo!" He bawled. "Why did this have to happen? My little girl did not deserve this. Why could I not have been there to be killed instead of you? Why?" He rolled on the floor, delicately caressing the items in the room.
Biggie mopped his brow too. "Maybe we've overstayed our welcome," he said. "Let's go, motswalle,".
I nodded….’
Subsequently
we read about Tebogo trying to shed more light on the goings-on at Dealesville
town. He speaks with a number of people who might be suspects – or probably
not. The interaction between two women – Matshidiso and Nthabiseng – is
brilliantly done (though both of them are never physically brought together!)
But Tebogo talks to them both separately, and we feel that maybe either of them
might have killed Anne? Consider this short passage between Tebogo and Nthabiseng:
‘…I had decided not to refer to the allegation of her (Nthabiseng) stealing clothes - at least not now. Anyway, she herself said now: "She (Matshidiso) was a dangerous woman, even telling lies about me and others. Men can be so stupid, taken in by that woman's fake smiles... She should have been considered a suspect too, at least...".
I stared at her. "Suspect? You don't mean as in Anne's death...".
"That's exactly what I mean," Nthabiseng said. "She could be dangerous too. I remember the day she angrily fought with Anne and said to her: 'Ke tla ntsha mala a gago, ke be ke go tshopa ka o ne mo thamong yagago,’
I winced. What she had said translates exactly into: "I will take out your intestines and drape them around your neck!" Or in correct English: "I'll have your guts for garters...".
Nthabiseng was looking at me, a sneering expression on her face. "You don't want to believe me eh...well that's exactly what her so-called best friend said to Anne weeks before she was killed... I did not tell the police this of course..." ‘
Ingredients/elements
like this serve to make this new work a shining success, another
mini-masterpiece by the author.
