WHEN Adonis was murdered in Pretoria in June 2009, Kaizer was shattered and his life irrevocably changed, and a part of him died. Below is an excerpt of the book, which will be launched in Johannesburg next Friday.

"In order to practise boxing with ease, Elphus and I created a punch bag of our own and hung it on the branch of a tree close to the river where we used to swim. Whenever we had time we would walk through the gum trees to our punch bag in that veld.

"One day, while we were busy punching the bag, we heard some strange noise coming from the vicinity. We ignored it at first, but the noise grew louder and louder over time. We stood still and listened, trying to establish where the noise came from.

"It soon became clear that the voices interchangeably making the noise were those of a man and a woman. We wondered what could have been happening, so we tip-toed towards where the noise came from.

"Once we were close enough, we saw two adults on the ground, a man who lived in the single men's hostel and a big, married woman who had been a neighbour of ours when we still lived in the tent.

"They were both naked - the woman lay on something that looked like a blanket and the man was on top of her, moving up and down. As he did so, he kept telling her 'Ngizokuphula amathambo!', meaning that he would break her bones. In response, she moaned louder and louder, and on he went shouting 'Ngizokuphula amathambo!'

"We knew exactly what was happening, and we understood that it was not supposed to be happening since that woman was married to a man who was well known in the village.

"'Hawu, bantu labadzala bayafebana,' we whispered to each other, giggling. The English translation was 'Wow, (these) adults are having sex.'

"Elphus and I stood there for some time, watching, and not knowing what to do. Eventually, as the woman moaned even louder and started crying, calling the man by his name, we could not help but laugh out loud. Temporarily interrupted, the man and the woman stopped moving up and down and looked up. Their eyes fell on us.

"'Hey nine bafana bakaMotsa, nentani lapha? Sukani lapha, tigangi ndzini. Ngitonishaya nine,' said the man, still on top of the woman. The English translation of what he said was: 'Hey, you Motha boys, what are you doing here? Get away from here, you naughty boys. I will beat the hell out of you.'

"We could not believe that, even in that compromised situation, the man had the audacity to call us 'naughty boys'. All we had done was to go to practise boxing on our punching bag hanging on the branch of a tree, and we happened to be disturbed by their unusual noise. So we laughed at them, repeating what he had said to the big woman a number of times, 'Ngizokuphula amathambo,' and ran away.

"Elphus and I never forgot that incident, and we could not but laugh naughtily each time we saw either the woman or the man in the village. As we walked past them, we would say softly: 'Ngizokuphula amathambo'.

"Of course, however much they hated our giggling, there was nothing they could do about it. They would certainly not tell our parents and risk exposing their naughty secret, and they would not lay a hand on us, fearing that we would tell that big woman's husband.

"Years later, when we were old enough to know and understand Clarence Carter's song I got caught making love to another man's wife, we joked that we should have assumed the role of Clarence Carter's Mainstay and said to the hostel man 'Ride on, father', before running away. We could not have said 'Ride on, brother', for the man and the woman were old enough to be parents to us.

"The interesting thing, though, is that our school principal, Mr Ndlovu himself was not married. He lived with his niece from Barberton, Jacqueline, and he was rumoured to be involved in undesirable relationships with some of the beautiful women in the village, most of whom were other men's wives.

"One such woman was married to a well-known man in the village, a Mr Shongwe. Instead of being irritated about the rumours of an affair between his wife and the school principal, the man was known to derive enormous pride from it. He was reported to be in the habit of boasting about it to other men.

"'Look at me,' he was reported to say, 'I am a simple, uneducated man, and yet my wife sleeps with so important a man like the principal. You see, I don't share with just any Tom, Dick and Harry, oh no. Instead, ngidla naboprincipal mine, nibongibuka kahle (Me, I feed out of the same plate as a principal, you should take a good look at me)'.

"I must hasten to add that I never heard the man boasting like that myself, but then I was only a child. However, that rumour was legendary at Ngodwana, where it was widely rumoured - some would say it was well known - that his wife cheated on him with the principal.

"Despite his obsession with children who were involved in relationships, Mr Ndlovu was a good man - or, I should say, he had a good side. He liked education dearly and encouraged us to dream big about the future, to aspire for professions that we had never heard of. In fact, he had a soft spot for me and Adonis."

lIncomplete Without my Brother, Adon is is published by Strategic Book Publishing and Rights Co, LLC - retails for R360 a copy and can also be purchased on www.amazon.com.

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