It was there the billionaires of the world gathered to announce their joint decision, either oblivious or indifferent to the revolution brewing next door*. Naledi checked Daniel’s speech for what was the fourth time. The words–her words–blurred in front of her eyes.
Diboko’s surprise visit last night had thrown her. No, that would be an understatement. Diboko’s visit had lit a bonfire under her normally high anxiety. If all lives don’t matter, he said as he left her, then no lives matter.
But Diboko’s life did matter. He was the first boy Naledi had kissed and the only man who had not expected her to be anyone other than herself. Their lives had changed since high school. While Naledi won a full scholarship to study business and communication in Johannesburg, Diboko worked as a petrol attendant for the petroleum firm, Sasol, assisting customers fill their car tanks near Alexandra. When he had joined the industry labour union, he quickly rose up the ranks of leadership. Naledi was proud of him back then.
However, time had shown that Diboko had changed. After Ma Gladys died of poisoned water delivered to Alexandra by Alby Fuels, Diboko sat in grief. Ma Gladys had worked as a domestic worker, cleaning the large houses of wealthier, white families. Many a night, she would ask Diboko to massage her feet before bed. A small luxury for a woman unused to being seen, let alone pampered.
Naledi was sure Ma Gladys would disapprove of her son’s reckless righteousness. She would try to dissuade him from going through with the plan. Naledi dropped the printed speech on the table in front of her.
She and Daniel’s wilful blindness may have earned them a place in hell, but Diboko needn’t join them. The international people’s movement, Workers of the Globe, were to call Diboko this morning, at least that’s what he said.
Diboko, her Diboko, was going to die.
Naledi switched on her phone. Pick up, pick up, she murmured as she strode away from her assigned desk toward the building’s exit. She knew that his grandmother was the only person who could stop him. Communication degrees had their place, but some moments, important ones, called for love to do the talking. The phone clicked open like a suitcase and a breathing sound escaped.
Hello.
Hello ma.
Silence followed, and then a guttural shout that shocked her ear.
He’s gone, Naledi! Our boy is gone! Naledi loses her voice, sensing it drain from her body.
No, ma, she whispers, a sharp pain puncturing the back of her throat.
He called before…he was sorry, said I would see him on the news. I don’t understand. Why must he die for them?
I have to go, ma. I am sorry.
Will you come home?
I will call back. I’m so sorry.
The call cuts off by her hand. Her world is a daze and yet still moving. A vibrating text message from Daniel wakes her from a blank reverie.
Bombing of local hotel, check out link. Please add condolences to victims in speech. PS. Great job for including the comparative profit analysis. Just secured a new mining licence.
Diboko, Naledi thinks, why did you leave me here?
*Writing prompt courtesy of Creative Writing in English