Chapter 10

Posted: May 21, 2014 in Uncategorized

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CHAPTER 10

Hasina – Ten years earlier

I’m dressed in a black suite with a white T-shirt. Another one of my mothers La-di-dah clients is throwing a fancy party. She is catering it and my mother has got me involved this time as a waiter having to serve all these overdressed aunties, gasping and gaping at each others’ clothing and jewelry. I usually help her out during the school holidays and  although December time is a busy time for her business I would rather be at home sketching. She has promised to pay me for my services and since money has been tight, I was more than willing. I have been saving up to buy a professional sketch board and India Ink, in order to work on a portfolio. I have been reading up on India Ink as a medium and wanted to try adding it to my pencil and charcoal sketches. I really want to study Art at University after I complete my matric next year but I know we can’t afford it. My brother Waseem has been working part time since he was sixteen and studied Law through Unisa. He is now doing his articles at a law firm in Killarney. He bought me my first professional sketch pad with his first lawyers pay cheque. After matric, Suhail went to work in an export company. He has our mother’s business sense and would buy and sell all types of things on the side, going to auctions and getting great deals.

My mother has been preparing for this party for weeks. Filling samoosa’s with all types of fillings, rolling and folding pie dough thousands of times and concocting new pastry fillings and mini cup cakes of every colour and flavour. We are at a huge mansion with a large atrium space where the party is being held. This in not buffet, like most of the other parties my mother has catered. This was super posh. Myself and a few other teenagers are dressed as waiters and are carrying around trays of savouries and patisserie (My mother’s word for over done pastries and cakes too beautiful to eat). We humbly offer the guests as anonymous helpers as they mingle through the house and garden. Waseem also got involved and was responsible for the gourmet coffee and tea bar at the far end of the room. Mr. and Mrs. Vally are celebrating their only son, Yusuf’s graduation from University. The party is just an excuse to show off, if you ask me. The hostess goes around bragging about her son who just got back from his trip to Paris with his friends. “And he paid for it himself”, his mother said to some women as I offered swan like cream puffs, “I told Imraan to give the boy at least a few thousand euros for spending but he refused saying he has to learn to budget his own money.” She rolled her eyes and continued, “You know these men, always thinking they know better than their wives” she said. …. His own money, I thought. I hardly think a child’s trust fund can be considered his own money. I’m pretty sure this Yusuf guy probably never worked a day in his life.

It’s a pretty boring party and I spend most of my time in the kitchen with my mother. I brought a small note book and pencil and I doodled idly in the corner until she called me to fill trays or go out serving.

 

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