Enough Already

I spin the record, balancing it on my finger as I fade out an Urban Groove song for Amapiano. The crowd screams when they hear They call me Shallipopi at the start of the song.

To have a crowd scream like that at my name– too bad I’m not Shallipopi. But I sure can turn his songs into a vibe; carrying this tiny house party in the corner of Delft into the best party in town.

I gaze at my crowd covered in blue and purple lights. My yellow and orange kitenge print headphones bounce on my shoulder as I lift my arms and hype up the crowd. I pull a few dance moves behind my make shift DJ turn table.

It almost feels like I’m in a dream. An imaginary wind breezes past my face, and I feel like I’m on the high.

Maybe that’s the weed I had earlier. But I hear it. I can hear them screaming my name. DJ Amaplaya, DJ Amaplaya, DJ Amaplaya.

“Taku! Taku! Takunda, man!” Thabo pushes my arm and kisses his teeth, “Sipho said he only paid you for 2 hours.”

“But I’m about to play Zenzele!” I huff and drop my shoulders.

“Bru, you’re not going to work without the money, are you?”

I side eye Thabo before putting the mic to my mouth, “That’s all from Amaplaya for tonight.” Everyone groans, and I smile, “Don’t worry, you’ll all be seeing me again, I promise that.” Some people cheer and clap.

“Mosimane yo.” Thabo exhales and walks away from the table as I close my laptop and pack up my gear and music.

I put my backpack over my shoulders and follow Thabo through the crowd as the speaker starts blasting more music– can’t beat mine.

“That was good, right?” I yell from behind him.

He nods, “The first few songs were a bit hectic.” And I frown, but he turns and cracks a smile, showing his small gap between his teeth, “Yes, it was good.”

We walk to a smaller room behind the living room, it was barely a kitchen, but that’s where the drinks were. Thabo’s eyes are searching the cluster of moving bodies in the next room.

“What are you looking for?” I ask as I pour myself a glass of what I can only guess is liquor under all these lights.

“I was dancing with this girl before Sipho came to me.” Thabo scratches his cornrows, “Where is she?”

I chuckle, “A man of the ladies, huh?”

“Taku, please.” He rolls his eyes, “I’ll be right back.” Thabo wanders back into what used to be my crowd, but is now just people here for a good night.

I sip my drink– the definitely-liquor burns my throat.

It was fun while it lasted. I wonder how Mama would react if she saw me now.

You’re only 18 Takunda, you should try to get into a good university. You can study engineering or something better than your beats and piano’s. She said a little over a year ago when I told her I was moving to Cape Town.

I mean, this party is definitely the last place she’d want to see me in. But I need the gig. Thabo says these parties are usually for the gangstas, but I think I can win them over with my music. I laugh at how clueless Mama is to this world and yet she hates it with every bit of her.

“Yoh!” A girl walks up to me holding a cigarette, “What’s got you laughing like that?” I look her up and down, and smile at her tight jean shorts, “Hey, dude! My eyes are here!”

“Sorry…” I smile at her, “I’m just very into fashion, you know?”

She raises her eyebrow, “You’re not from this area.”

“No, I’m from the heart of Harare.” I take another sip of my drink, not breaking eye contact with her brown eyes and long lashes.

“Oh? You Zimbos are so funny.” She smiles.

“Well someone has to entertain South Africa.” I smirk and step closer. “Where are you from?”

She runs her hand along my arm, “You know, just around here.”

My eye line drops to her lips and back up to her eyes.

“Amahle!” A deep voice fills the small kitchen.

The girl immediately lets go of my arm, “What?” She snaps at a tall and buff man in all black. His diamond teeth on the bottom row of his frown shine in the dim lights.

“Ngubani lo?” He says but his eyes are stuck on me.

“Ingaba unomsebenzi?” The girl says. I don’t know that many languages, but I know that they’re speaking Xhosa. “He was the one playing the nice music.”

The man chuckles, his tone still dark, “So this music man thinks we can come in here and try to get on my girl.”

“Gabriel, please.” Amahle says, “I’m not yours. Haven’t you heard of feminism and all that?”

“Go back to the others.” He orders her.

“But I’m-”

“Now!” He yells and my heart skips a beat… or maybe it increased by two. I don’t know, but my heart is not doing what normal hearts should do.

Two men, also in black, appear behind this Gabriel guy and stare at me.

Maiwe, I’ve messed up now. These men look like they’re going to kill me for just breathing in their space.

The girl squeezes between the two guys and moves back to the party.

“What to do with you.” Gabriel crosses his arms and examines me, “You’ve come into my yard. This is my kasi, and there’s no room for little boys like you.”

“Then why are they here?” I point to some guys dancing and drinking in the middle of the party.

Gabriel kisses his teeth and grabs the collar of my yellow shirt and pulls me closer. His grip is tight as his knuckles brush my chin. “You’re annoying, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.” I laugh nervously.

“Taku!” Thabo enters the kitchen but the two other guys grab his arm. “Gabriel, please leave him. He’s sorry for whatever he did.” Thabo pleads and gives me a look.

“Right!” I nod, “I promise, if I knew she was your chick, I wouldn’t even look at her. No matter how beautiful she is.”

“Modimo wa me.” Thabo rolls his head up and Gabriel’s grip gets tighter on me.

“That’s it,” Gabriel lifts his shirt slightly and I spot a knife tucked in his pants. I try to think of a way out, but all my body can do is try to get out of his grip. “Oh, you want to fight, eh?”

“No!” Thabo yells over the music, that’s just gotten louder, “Taku!”

I lift my hands beside my head, “No, I don’t want to fight. Please, just let me go, and you won’t ever see or hear from me again.”

Gabriel is quiet for a moment. As loud as the music is, it’s like I’ve muted it out. He turns back to the guys that are holding Thabo and they both shake their heads. I hold my breath and stare at Thabo, who’s got a similar expression on his face.

“Fine.” Gabriel says and pushes me off. I fall back but hold onto the kitchen counter to catch myself. The two guys let go of Thabo’s arms. “But if I see you again,” Gabriels slowly runs his index finger along his throat, his teeth blinding my eyes for a moment.

“Noted. Thank you, sir.” I nod and walk out the kitchen, Thabo right behind me.

…

Thabo and I walk along the mostly empty streets. A few homeless and drunkards walk past us, but nothing out of the ordinary for this side of town. I stare at the cloudy sky as I walk, trying not to burst into laughter.

When I hear Thabo laughing beside me, I join him.

“You know, you’re such an idiot.” Thabo says to me.

“Thank you.” I say as we take a turn to my street, Thabo’s being the one behind mine. “For saving me.”

“That’s my new job– make sure Taku doesn’t get himself in trouble.”

I laugh, “Ah! At least I’m fun. Not like those boring people who don’t know how to do anything.”

“You’re not fun,” Thabo sighs, “You’re just high. And so am I.”

“That rhymes.”

Thabo pushes me into my yard, “Nigga, go sleep.”

“Okay, I see how it is.” I stumble to my door. “Love you, bru!” I yell out to Thabo as I open the door to my small, run down two bedroom house. My roommate, the landlord, is out again.

“Shut up!” Thabo yells and I hear his laughter fade away as I shut the door behind me.

…

“Me? Late?” I say as I close the car door, “When am I ever late?” I ask Stefan as he starts to drive off my street.

“Late is your default time, Taku.” Stefan chuckles as he turns on his indicator even though the roads are empty. It’s barely past 7 am and morning is the only quiet time in Delft.

“You Afrikaners can never grasp African time.” I exhale.

Stefan huffs, “Trust me, I know African time all too well. I just don’t practice it.”

That’s Stefan for you. Always down to Earth like that. He’s not like the other umlungu though, he’s different– open. He doesn’t live in those posh neighbourhoods or look down on anyone. No matter how much money he comes from.

“I’ve got you another gig.” Stefan says as he drives into the Blessed Hotel.

“Wow, you’re a pretty good agent aren’t you?” I chuckle as I tighten my red and white bellhop uniform.

“I’m an even better friend since you haven’t paid me a dime.” Stefan stops the car and unlocks the car, “Good thing you’re not my only client or I’d be dead broke.”

“Are you calling me dead broke?” I squint my eyes and Stefan raises an eyebrow. We break out in laughter and I open the door and walk out.

“Taku!” Stefan yells before I close the door, “Don’t do anything stupid,” He points at me, “And I’ll send you the details for this weekend’s gig.”

I nod, “Yes sir!” I salute him as he’s a captain.

Stefan shakes his head smiling, “Just go work; you’re late.”

“Okay, Okay.” I shut the door and rush into the huge hotel. I stop and catch a view and Table Mountain in the distance, and the beach that’s nearby. The birds sing and the waves crash into the rocky beach, creating an ambience no music can replicate.

An idea pops in my head.

Maybe I should mix amapiano with–

“Takunda!” Margaret, the receptionist, yells at me. I turn my head to her. She doesn’t look happy, her brunette hair already starting to frizz in the morning sun. “You’re late.”

“I’m coming!” I follow her into the hotel and get to work.