Shaka II Read Free

transport to Ulundi the next morning and show up at my job, as boring and poorly paid as it was, but I must confess that I was curious to watch him campaign-he always had such control of his emotions that I wanted to see how he whipped a crowd into a frenzy while remaining cool and collected himself. Then, too, if he was successful, if he actually gained a modicum of political power, there was the possibility that I could do more good for more people than just teaching one impoverished group of children. I would miss them, and I hoped they would miss me, but if things worked out, maybe I could help them more in Ulundi than in the classroom.
        I called in sick, we arrived in Ulundi the next afternoon, Robert registered his party and announced his candidacy, and then we took a room in a hotel that was one step above being a flophouse.
        The next morning Hector ole Kunene failed to show up at a small breakfast for the party faithful. He didn’t appear for a noon interview and an afternoon rally, and in fact was never seen again.
        And twenty-seven days later Robert ole Buthelezi, representing the Zulu Party, won an uncontested election for the office of Clerk of Records.
        It didn’t seem like much at the time, but years later historians would want all the details, however insignificant.
        

4.
        
        When Robert took office, he gave me an imposing title-Vice Chairman and Confidential Advisor-but I was just a glorified filing clerk. I suppose I should have quit after the first week and gone back home, but my paycheck after that week was more than I made in a month as a teacher. I couldn’t figure it out-I was clearly a flunky, nothing more-but somehow when Robert put through the voucher for my salary no one argued with him. Which was probably just as well; Robert did not lose very many arguments. I sent half of my check to the school, and decided to stay.
        Ulundi wasn’t Johannesburg or Pretoria, but it was still far more sophisticated than the town where I had been living. A monorail circled the city, two matching skyscrapers reached for the clouds, and the city’s power was now supplied by nuclear energy.
        Each evening I stopped by a local restaurant on my way back to my rented room. From time to time Robert would choose to eat there, but never alone. Invariably he was in the company of men I did not know. Some were very well-dressed, and often had their government ID tags still affixed to their tunics. Others were poorly-dressed, and made no attempt to hide the fact that they carried weapons. It made no difference to Robert; he was equally at home with all of them.
        Well, perhaps I should reword that: he was equally comfortable and self-contained with either group. I don’t know for a fact that I ever saw him actually enjoy another man’s company. I know that he enjoyed the company of women, but not in that way and not in public.
        We had been in Ulundi for about four months when he finally invited me out to dinner. It was the first meal we had eaten together since we had arrived in the city. He took me to a posh restaurant, where all the staff seemed to know him (as did many of the diners), and we were escorted to a table in the farthest corner of the room.
        “This is my regular table here,” he said as we sat down. “I do not believe any other diners can overhear me here as long as I keep my voice down.”
        “I would think they have very little interest in governmental record-keeping anyway,” I said.
        He laughed, the first laugh I had heard him utter since he returned after his ten-year absence.
        “If there was any doubt that we are brothers, that eradicates it,” he said. “Our father had a sense of humor too-or so I have been told.” Neither of us remembered much of Buthelezi, who had wandered off one day and never returned. In truth, we had no idea if he was still alive.
        “I am sure it