The murmurs from the crowd could have been because the people had heard such rumours, or because they had not.

‘The rumours are true,’ Silas Mthimkhulu continued. ‘I did help our boys in the ways I have mentioned, and in other ways that were available to me. Does that make me a hero?’

The murmurs grew louder, and for a moment it seemed as though that would be the only response, and then the crowd erupted with a highly appreciative ‘I-DLA-ZO-NKE!’

Silas Mthimkhulu was gracious enough to say through the din, ‘If I am a hero, then I am one amongst many.’

It took what seemed like forever for the ‘I-DLA-ZO-NKE!’ chant to die down. But no sooner had it ended than another of ‘Mthimkhulu! Mthimkhulu! Mthimkhulu!’ began. Silas Mthimkhulu clearly appreciated the crowd’s appreciation as he paced to and fro on the platform, smiling and waving, managing somehow to look both humble and proud. When he eventually took his seat next to Bodecia, he looked extremely pleased with himself.

Spokes was far from satisfied with the spectacle he had just witnessed, and wondered how the crowd could be so jubilant. Were they not worried the way he was worried about how Silas Mthimkhulu managed to make everything about himself? What about the sacrifices that they – the people – had made during the war? What about their own innumerable small acts of courage and heroism? What about the futures they had been fighting for and wanted to realise? Had they not seen that his whole performance was an exercise in self-aggrandisement? Had they already forgotten how the Idlazonke stores sold goods of dubious value and questionable quality? Had they already forgiven Silas Mthimkhulu for the high interest rates that accompanied his buy-now-pay-later schemes? And what exactly had their memories done with the images of the Idlazonke collection trucks that traversed the townships daily, seizing the very goods that had been bought under these schemes?

Spokes watched as Silas Mthimkhulu turned and whispered something into Bodecia’s ear. She smiled, and Spokes chose to believe that it was part of the performance.

Several other men spoke, all, like Silas Mthimkhulu, hoping to be Members of Parliament in the new government. They were a motley crew who, soon after the failure of the 1979 elections, had cobbled together a party meant to be more moderate than the two main nationalist parties that were seen as being too Marxist (which made many white people ill at ease). The party was, on the other hand, more militant than the black-led party built around Christian ideals (which made many white people feel at ease) that the 1979 elections had intended to place in power. This new party was in fact made up of men who had not risen high enough in the ranks of the major nationalist parties to have real power once independence was realised; this was, therefore, their chance to gain such power.