REBEL GRAINED

WENA

Thulile stared at the truck. The bricks held better than she hoped.

She no longer bought hot caps and wheels, which always ended up stolen. Many people thought the truck was stationed there by choice, when in fact, it just could not be moved.

Thulile used to travel around Joburg. The truck was a celebrity in the shanty towns. Of course, it was Palesa who drove since she didn't have a driver's license.

The police would have had the van towed away from its current position if Thulile's coffee hadn't helped the police station superintendent's son pass his exams.

Thulile entered the truck and began the inventory of her stock. She needed money fast to buy the beans, move the van, get her gran a new wheelchair, and the list went on.

She wished money to fall from the sky like the mana in the desert.

"Ah, sista, you are here, finally," Palesa said as she entered.

"Hi, Palesa."

"Howzit?"

"I'm Better ."

Palesa grinned, "you look it, those cheeks are sure dumpling fluffy."

Thulile smiled, "I guess I needed some rest."

"Of course, here."

Thulile looked down at the money Palesa gave her.

"What's this?"

"I used the truck; it's rent."

"No, Palesa, it's okay. Your girls worked too. It would be unfair to keep the money."

"Thulile, don't make it difficult otherwise, I will keep it."

"Do, I insist."

Palesa shook her head to disapprove, "you'll never get rich if you're this generous."

"Perhaps it's my karma."

"Don't say that. So many people find happiness thanks to you."

"It's a shame I can't do the same for myself."

Thulile, something good will happen as long as you're optimistic. No one is supposed to live a life of misery; your father told me that. You know my story. I never thought I could have children, but your father told me believing was the first step towards reaching my goal. Look at me now; I have five kids. Yes, it's not easy to make ends meet, but I feel blessed."

Palesa married young, and her in-laws put a lot of pressure on her to have children. All thought she was barren, including herself at the time.

Thulile sighed, "I hope you're right."

In his bed, Lars debated whether he should try to go to the truck once more or let it go. His thoughts had him worked up for an hour before the man decided to try. Lars didn't follow his shower protocol; he tossed on a steel grey hoodie and short set.

His white pajama tee hung out like a witness from the sweater.

It was the last time, and if she wasn't there, Lars swore to never drive to the truck again.

It was 7 am when he arrived, and from the looks of things, he would not have his coffee till about 8.

The news of Thulile's return traveled fast. People called their colleagues or family members to come.

"Thuile, I don't know if I'll have enough snacks."

"I don't know if I'll have enough beans." Thuile had not anticipated the number of customers.