Tandia (71 page)

Mr Nguni understood perfectly. What Gideon was saying in effect was that not only was the
umNgoma
he wished to see able to cast the necessary spells, but there existed an intimate relationship between them as well.

Relationships and trust in a time of battle are enormously important to the Zulu warrior, who has less a fear of dying than of letting down his brother who fights valiantly at his side to protect him. In exactly the same way, it was crucial to Gideon to have Peekay with him just before he entered the ring against Geldenhuis.

Peekay entered Gideon's dressing room a quarter of an hour before the fight was due to start. 'I see you, Gideon,' he said quietly as he walked in.

Gideon looked up and smiled his brilliant white smile, extending his already bandaged hand and greeting Peekay in the double-fisted African handshake. 'I see you, Peekay,' he said shyly.

'The drought is not yet broken in the Tugela?' Peekay asked. He too spoke in a reserved way, as though it had been some time since they'd met, even though he'd seen Gideon just two days previously.

'It is very, very bad, Peekay, the cattle are dying, there is no more grass.'

'And the river? The river is holding?'

'Only pools. The cattle must walk far and they are weak.' The reason for Peekay's formal greeting was simple enough. In Zulu terms Gideon had been away, not so much on a journey as on a transformation. In tribal eyes he was changed. He'd returned a somewhat different person after being with his shadows and the shadows of his tribal ancestors. These were still with him, his guardian angels; they would protect him during the fight, and due respect must be shown to them. By greeting him traditionally Peekay was acknowledging Gideon's changed state of being and was formally acknowledging and honouring the presence of his shadows.

After a while Gideon smiled, signalling his preparedness to get down to a normal conversation. Peekay returned his smile and the two boxers reached out and touched hands shyly with the tips of their fingers, each lightly brushing the inside of the other's palm.

'I have brought you something, Gideon,' Peekay said softly. 'You must close your eyes.' Peekay took the gold chain with the lion's tooth from around his neck and looped it over the black boxer's head so that it joined its twin already around his neck. 'Your strength has served me well, my brother; now it must return to you and stay with you forever. It is your manhood and your destiny as foretold to you by your
umNgoma.'

Immediately the chain with the lion's tooth fell over his neck, Gideon knew it was the other half of the charm which spelled his coming to manhood. The bandaged fingers of his right hand reached up to hold the tooth and when he opened his eyes they were filled with emotion.

'Haya, haya!' he said, shaking his head, bewildered at Peekay's generosity. He could say no more. Peekay had guessed correctly; the witchdoctor who had attended him had questioned the breaking of his strength, the dividing of his manhood spell. He would have cast spells and made potions to compensate for the missing charm. Now, moments before the fight with Geldenhuis, Peekay had made him whole by returning it to him and had used the correct words in his presentation and by doing so, made it possible for him to accept the return of a gift he had once given himself.

'I see you with my heart, Peekay,' he said at last, these awesomely personal words sealing the acceptance.

'It has always been yours, Gideon. It was only
yayinto yernilingo,
a magical loan. I needed it for the strength it gave me to get to the world title; now it must return to make your strength complete.' Peekay hesitated for a moment before adding, 'My
okumiselwe khona,
my destiny, is foretold; I must go with the snake and not with lion. The snake is my talisman as the lion is yours.'

Gideon looked into Peekay's eyes. 'This snake, it is
uMamba,
the black one?'

Peekay nodded and Gideon gave a low whistle. 'This
iNyolal,
it is very powerful. The lion rips and tears to make a kill but its death-making is not certain and often the prey will break free. But
uMamba
strikes near the heart; the poison works slowly but there is no escape, death is certain.'

Peekay could see that his new talisman made perfect sense to Gideon. Apart from his courage, Peekay was not the lion type in the ring. This new talisman his shadows had found for him was perfect and, like the return of his own, a wonderful omen for the fight.

'You will be very powerful tonight, Gideon.' Peekay grinned. 'The
iBhunu,
the Boer, will be in for a big surprise. You have doubled your power. Before was enough to beat Jannie Geldenhuis; now you are truly a man who goes with his shadows into the ring and is invincible!'

'Haya, haya, Peekay, I hear you. But Geldenhuis will not come easy, he has great hate.'

'And your hate?'

'It is different, it is an old hate passed on to me by my shadows; it cannot go away but it does not feed on raw meat like the
amaBhunu.'

Geldenhuis had never trained harder for a fight. He was superbly fit and confident, and had every reason to be. On paper, the fights he'd had leading up to this contest were of a somewhat better quality to those fought by Mandoma. He knew this would hold him in good stead against the black man, whom he hoped had been lured into a false sense of his own ability by a string of comparatively easy wins against fairly mediocre opponents. It rankled him enormously that Gideon was placed above him in the world rankings on the basis of having defeated Soap Dish Jurez, the Cuban, the only really classy fight the kaffir had had in a year.

The Special Branch had given him three months on light duties, which, in effect, meant full-time training. Two of his sparring partners were young white fighters on their way up, both middleweights, so he could get used to a physically stronger, harder punching opponent like Gideon Mandoma. His third sparring partner was a young Zulu who fought a lot like Gideon. Of the three sparring partners the young Zulu was the least skilled but the toughest, a non-stop battler whose fighting name was the Black Tornado.

While Geldenhuis sparred in the normal way with the two white middleweights, the black fighter was used to sharpen the policeman's aggression. Geldenhutis would work him over as hard as he could, building up his hate. The young Zulu fighter, though tough as nails, was no match for the policeman's skill in the ring. Geldenhuis would often knock him down; though in the three months the Zulu had endured these hidings, the policeman had been unable to knock him out. Tom Majombi, the Black Tornado's real name, was too proud to simply lie down like any sensible pug when he'd taken enough punishment. Day after day, the black fighter took a terrible pounding at the police lieutenant's hands, and in the final week of training the white boxer's aggression and hate had sharpened to the point where he beat the young African so severely that he started to bleed from his ears. Geldenhuis was ready.

Now, with the entrance of the Afrikaner policeman into the ring, the band struck up
Die Stem,
the South African National anthem which means 'The Voice'. Geldenhuis stood in the centre of the ring as the fifteen thousand white people sang; the entire audience stood. He'd never fought in front of a crowd even one-fifth as big and he would remember the moment for the remainder of his life. The beautiful words of the anthem reached his soul; at that moment, Jannie Geldenhuis knew what it was to be an Afrikaner, and his pride and joy and love overwhelmed him so that he stood with tears running down his cheeks. He was fighting for more than just a chance to get to Peekay; he was fighting the same fight his ancestors had been fighting for three hundred years. He was fighting to keep his blood pure, he was fighting for the survival of his race. The Zulu would have to kill him to win.

Gideon entered the ring to a tremendous roar from the crowd. He too stood in the centre of the ring while the black anthem
NKosi Sikelela i' Afrika,
'God Bless Africa', was played by the band, this time accompanied by fifteen thousand black voices. The white audience, who for the most part had remained seated, was awestruck by the sound. This was an Africa they didn't know, this was a voice they hadn't heard, and it was both chilling and beautiful.

Gideon stood with his gloves raised, turning to the crowd. He too had never boxed to a crowd like this before and he felt great pride in the black people who had come to see him fight. They were giving him a hero's welcome and they made him strong; the black champion of Africa wanted the white title as well. His mind flashed back to the prison cell where Geldenhuis had completely lost his cool when he thought Gideon had broken his hand and he would be denied the fight and thus the opportunity to get to Peekay. Tonight he would be denied that opportunity again; the judges were the same international panel selected to judge the world championship bout. There would be no pigment decisions, the best man would win. Gideon knew that the shadows were with him, even the great Shaka and Dingane. He was fighting for his people, for their dignity and honour and the greatness of their hearts.

The referee called them both into the centre of the ring and neither man looked at each other as they received instructions.

Tandia, seated directly below the ring in the front row, was overwrought before the fight began between the man she loved the most and the man she hated the most in the world. Of the two emotions, hate was the stronger and with it fear. In her mind Geldenhuis was invincible and she was terribly afraid for Gideon. She was close to tears, and by the time the bell went for the opening round she held Madam Flame Flo's hand in a fierce grip, her whole body shaking.

The first round was torrid enough, with both fighters standing toe to toe, both boxing well and keeping the other out. Geldenhuis hit Mandoma with a beautiful right hand towards the end of the round, sending him back several paces; then he'd come in fast, hoping to put another couple of good punches in, but Gideon tied him up and the bell went. If anything it was this single punch which separated the two fighters in the first round.

The second and third rounds were not dissimilar, both boxers trying to get on top, punching hard and accurately but seldom penetrating the other's defence. It was surprising that after three rounds no pattern seemed to be emerging. But the fans were getting their money's worth; neither man would back down and the pace of the fight was too fast to last.

The fourth round was Geldenhuis's best. He came out early and caught Gideon again with a right to the jaw. Gideon went down, though he was up at the count of four, not staying down, as Solly had advised him for an eight count. Geldenhuis was all over him and it wasn't until halfway through the round that he began to even things out. The fourth round ended with a definite advantage for Geldenhuis, although he'd thrown an awful lot of leather trying to nail the black man and he was showing the first signs of slowing down.

Five and six saw the fight beginning to change. Gideon was punching the more accurately of the two fighters, landing more often. Fought at a slightly slower pace, it was easier to see what was happening and the crowd began to sense that the black man was starting to get on top. It was the first time Tandia released Madam Flame Flo's hand; six rounds had ended and the seventh was the one when Geldenhuis had promised he'd put Gideon away. Now Gideon was starting to look the better boxer.

Forecasting your opponent's demise is good for pre-fight publicity but in boxing it comes back to haunt you too often. History will tell that by the seventh round Mandoma had Geldenhuis where he wanted him. Geldenhuis came out strong, determined to keep his promise, but seemed to almost run into a hard left to his jaw. It was a dumb punch but he was badly hurt and he dropped like a stone, a bewildered look on his face. He rose at the count of eight but he was very groggy on his feet, whereupon Mandoma set about the task of working his body, working the policeman onto the ropes and ripping punches into him just below the heart. Geldenhuis seemed to have no counter for these deadly short blows and he rapidly weakened. It almost looked as though he was only staying on his feet because Mandoma wanted to keep him upright.

The bell went and Mandoma was met at his corner by an excited Solly Goldman. 'You could have put him away, why, why? You could have put him away in the seventh, turned the books on him!'

'I want him for one more round, this next round is for Tandia,' Gideon said. He turned to Togger, who was acting as one of the seconds. He grinned, raising his glove as Togger was about to insert his mouthguard. 'Please, Togger, you go tell her this round is for her.'

'It's my pleasure, Gideon, a looker like that. She your girlfriend, then?'

Gideon nodded as Solly pushed him up. 'It's not over yet, my son. You get in there and box. It's not over until the man counts ten!' He was furious at Gideon's break in concentration.

But it was. Right at the start of the following round Mandoma hit Geldenhuis hard and put him down again. When Geldenhuis got up at eight he stumbled around the ring as Mandoma pushed him about with his left hand, though without following through with the right. The black fighter taunted the policeman, dropping his gloves and showing Geldenhuis his jaw, making the police lieutenant miss simply by bobbing and weaving around. Then, towards the end of the round he dropped him four times in quick succession. 'This one is for Shaka!' he said coming after Geldenhuis and putting him down. Geldenhuis stayed down for a count of seven, then rose. The referee examined him and let the fight continue. Ten seconds later Gideon put him down again; 'For Dingane!' he spat as he walked away to a neutral corner. The third time Geldenhuis went down, Gideon waited until he rose and let the white man pull him into a clinch. 'That was for my mother, white man!' Geldenhuis grinned and spat out his mouthguard and spoke through his broken mouth. 'You better kill me now, jong. Because if you don't, you a dead kaffir!' Then he spat, sending a spray of blood and spittle into Gideon's face.