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The Artisan
The Artisan
The Artisan
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The Artisan

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The woman said she was woken by the bullet earlier and her husband said he heard three more shots and a while later another was fired . . . including the one we heard when the woman shouted and cried for mercy and then the silence . . . which means six rounds have been fired so far sir . . .


The Artisan is a book about the township boy from the big city Gauteng who had been fortunate to be in engineering field, the life he led in the mines, and led a happy and successful life until he met a woman who brought all the trouble to his life. It focuses among other things the politics of South Africa as a country that Jacob was born in and had to overcome and be noticed as a middle class, the challenges that Jacob has to face to show commitment on his job. To balance work and relationship, which he doesnt do well as he spends most of his time at work. The wife he brought with him brought with her the skeletons from the past and led to murder and prison for him. The reader is taken through a roller-coaster ride of the relationship that was built in lies and let animal in Jacob to surface which led to tragedy.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateDec 18, 2014
ISBN9781482805130
The Artisan
Author

Ndabaethethwa Alfred Matshebelele

Ndabaethethwa Alfred Matshebelele was born in a small mine location in Limpopo called Thabazimbi. He went to school until he matriculated and acquired a job underground in the platinum mines (Amandelbult). In his spare time he attended evening classes to improve on his mathematics and science. He was later selected for the artisan training and worked in the same mine until he acquired a foreman certificate and moved to Mokopane, where he is currently employed as a mechanical foreman. He is happily married to Chrislo Mmanape Matshebelele, and his children are Siphokazi, Thamsanqa, and Asanda. He loves reading and watching movies.

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    Book preview

    The Artisan - Ndabaethethwa Alfred Matshebelele

    Copyright © 2014 by Ndabaethethwa Alfred Matshebelele.

    ISBN:      Softcover      978-1-4828-0514-7

                   eBook            978-1-4828-0513-0

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

    Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

    Toll Free 0800 990 914 (South Africa)

    +44 20 3014 3997 (outside South Africa)

    www.partridgepublishing.com/africa

    Contents

    Chapter 1

    Chapter 2

    Chapter 3

    Chapter 4

    Chapter 5

    Chapter 6

    Chapter 7

    Chapter 8

    Chapter 9

    Chapter 10

    Chapter 11

    Chapter 12

    Chapter 13

    Chapter 14

    Chapter 15

    He never knew coming from the concrete jungle to the Bushveld will land him in jail and with it the title of murder… he could be facing the rest of his life in jail, the trail of blood he left made the scene look more like a war zone…

    [Inside page]

    :To my family, my parents who said everything is possible as long as one puts their minds to

    :for my wife who believed in me Mmanape Chrislo Matshebelele

    :for my children Siphokazi, Thamsanqa and Asanda you guys kept me going

    CHAPTER 1

    T habazimbi is one of the beautiful, quiet small towns you find in Limpopo, situated almost 100kms from Rustenburg. Encircled by well cut Mountains, these mountains are what keeps this place alive. Nothing much though for entertainment is available, it has everything that small town has, Mabogopedi high on Shai drive, left of the side junction from R510 road, Friekie Meyer high in town. Shopping complex, a state hospital with Curamed private hospital opposite its entrance lies on the mountain on First Avenue. the longest Vanderbjil street that leads to town, cut through a mountain with a beautiful view of old military base on the left hand side, up the mountainous street Kumba offices lies proudly on the right hand side facing an architect’s masterpiece of Barcleys bank which is now transformed in to a land affairs department, this is where the street starts descending leaving a private doctor’s Tambotie centre above the first house on the left, on the right a third avenue street with its trees made a big shadow that one want to escape the mid summer sun, proceeding down the street a library building with its primitive roof tiles and hard build structure shows that this building will last for many generations and behind it, is the magistrate offices with a lengthy stairs not suitable really for old folks one would think, but for Thabazimbians it was their daily task either to go up or down to reach their destination. Looking at Thabazimbi with a tourist eye you would want to settle here as a refuge from big city life till old age and death spread their hands to reach out for you, it is a peaceful quiet place. And for those who want to leave like animals, be caged and those who made their fortune taking from law abiding citizens. Well there is place for the them just below the magistrate offices and next to library, with its concrete wall, encircled with a high fence with a gate at other side of the building to allow police vehicles to enter and leave this castle like premises and the other is the entrance the public uses for th eir different matters in relation to police work.

    a wooden bench is the first thing you see when you enter the charge office, men and women in blue uniform walking about busy with their assigned tasks. Police pictures showing among other things their bravery in a rescue mission pasted on the wall.

    Down the corridor a first room on the left …files are stacked neatly on top of inspector Selwane’s desk, he has been in the force for fourteen years. All his years as police officer in this town he had never had case where the use of a fire arm was involved in a black community. He leaned forward slowly as he read the name on the docket as if the contents are heavy and can’t be able to lift it from the desk. ‘Jacob Khotso Mokhethi … born 1978 -12 August’.

    ‘Where is he from?’ asked the young fine constable neo Sentsho as she takes a sip from a coca-cola can to quench the 12 o’clock hot Thaba sun. ‘Huh it says here Sebokeng’. Constable Neo rolled her chair backwards to allow her well built curves to easily move away from the desk. if you were a criminal in this holdings you will want to reverse the hands of time. Looking of the beauty that god created for all his children and knowing that when you are behind these walls it might be for the rest of your life. Sure she was something. if the world out there was full of beauty queens like her, you would rather choose to be outside. There, where you have all the choices to make and enjoy the beauties that god had created.

    {Shouting} ‘Stand up you filthy lost soul, I am gonna lock you up with that murderer, after all you are also a criminal. {shaking her head while she removes her service pistol} huis braak and diefstal huh!, you are gonna do time believe me’.

    Whistle heard from the corridor as Mr. Olivier tries to imitate a hit song for the youth favorite tonight is gonna be a good night by the group, black eyed peas. {Interrupted by the sound of the gigantic cells keys as he enters the charge office} removing them from his leather waist belt.

    ‘Hier is die sleuitels Neo

    Neo responded in Afrikaans as part of their agreement ‘dankie mis…teer Olievier’as she stood up from the desk and grab the keys from Mr. Olivier. Neo was happy as a police officer and was doing her job with passion, willing to learn all the tricks of the trade. Olivier looked and gave a little smile as she leaves for the cells with the prisoner in front of her. he remembered his father’s words.

    ‘a police officer has to take pride in his job as the community looks up to you my son’

    Mr Hendric Jacobus Olivier, known as Cruga to all who thought they were above the law, he made them pay. Connie David Olivier knew in his mind that he was not in the force because his father was a captain five years ago..no, it was passion that brought him here, he had good grades in math and science, he attended technical college though and only landed him in blue uniform, his dream of becoming an engineer like his uncle changed when his uncle’s farm was ambushed by four masked men. It was a series of body bags after an hour show that resulted in death of his sister, younger brother and uncle Jaco Willem Olivier…it was a brutal, blood bathed acts of violence. Olivier and his wife Tanya, girlfriend back then, left for horse riding near a stream that leads straight to crocodile river and runs through his uncles’ farm four gun shots interrupted their nice outing. {Bang! bang! bang! bang!}

    Maybe it was those young naughty boys from the farm opposite his farm, at least that was what they thought, after a long pause two more gun shots were heard from the same direction,{bang! bang}

    his instinct told him ‘man you got to go check this one out’.

    they rode very fast to where they left the party, it was too late. his uncle was laying face down next to the braai place. two bullet wounds could be seen through his jeep shirt. well! what made him want to puke was the sight of the young one, his brother Tobie inside the pool. a wound on his forehead the other was through his tiny chest. on a thirteen year old, these were the acts of a merciless criminal.

    Olivier jumped down from the horse and went straight to the garage open door, broke open the glass cabinet with a cross wheel spanner he got at the back of Isuzu 4x4 bakkie. he took a flywheel, loaded it and assured his sweetheart Tanya he will be back. he rushed towards the house open door, two men appeared in the corridor, he never asked, he fired twice and two men fell and their carry bags contents sprawled on the floor, he got inside his uncle’s bedroom and there laid his sister on her back. her pants were torn, sick monsters took turn to rape his sister before they put a bullet across her cheek and the other across her stomach, he knelt down beside her to check for signs of life, and no pulse. he had a sound of a car engine been started outside.{turned to the direction of sound}they came out through the kitchen door. when he came outside. he saw a land rover speeding along a drive way, he fired through the big cloud of dust made by the car the filthy monster’s escape led them to hell when they hit a big maroela tree, they died instantly.

    He was to stay with these memories forever. He opened the door to the car and it was full of smoke inside and got a fright of his life when he removed a mask from one of the culprits. it was one of his uncle’s neighbor’s son Janse Van Tonder, notorious from school for his evil mind, a heart full of hatred fuelled by his failure at school and a life full of drugs and alcohol. it was passion and fate that got Olivier this job, what he told himself about that unforgettable Saturday, was that he was going to join the force to stop these criminals from being above the law, learned that your worst nightmare might be closer than you think and that most dangerous criminals are the ones we least suspect. Fooled by the innocent looks on their faces. We let our mind to be deceived by people’s looks. "farm attack and hero born" was a heading on kweevoel newspaper, unforgettable memories to the farming thabazimbians.

    ‘This is gonna be your home tonight, ooh no! Nearly forgot, till Monday’. Said neo, as she locks the last steel gigantic door.

    Sparks looked innocently as he is locked away. Poor child she knew magistrates do not work on weekends he, s gonna wait till Monday for his hearing to hear his fate.

    ‘Ha—ha-a’ {laughed the man with a leather patch on}

    ‘Bafana ba kasi ba fikile’{my home boys has arrived said in Zulu}.

    Sparks could see that the patch was good quality real leather and that gave him a thought that this might be from one rich white man who got ambushed.

    ‘What happened to his eye?’ sparks asked himself a million dollar question.

    The eye patched man interrupted sparks from his thoughts as if sparks was about to find out what was hidden behind that patch.

    ‘Do you have the stuff?’ asked the man scratching and adjusting his patch.

    Sparks answered without thinking.

    ‘Ya…’

    {with a loud voice} ‘I run the show around here and my name is Pirates, I take from the rich and give to the inmates. You can give the staff to me’.{he removed the brown eye patch as he receives a package with his right hand}.

    Wala! Sparks was right. he had only one eye and the deep whole missing an eye appeared to make him look more fearful, the eye got lost while he tried to rob a German golfer in Thaba golf club, the wallet of a German player was in the back pocket of his expensive Spalding golf trouser, Pirates tried to grab the wallet of the Dutch man and run, but the man was not good with clubs when hitting a golf ball than he was when hitting a thief, he landed straight into john’s eye and that is why they called him pirates the one eyed man.

    ‘Nice sonny! …you won’t have to chase the chicken around, you came with the staff inside. You are the man Sparky!, real top dog’.

    He then threw the package to the man sitting at the far corner to the left of the shower entrance ‘catch here Nja! Make yourself useful, do a nice zesta for us’.

    Peter with his starry stare, took the package swiftly and soon a nice zol was ready to be lit. Pirates went into the toilet and appeared with a tissue paper on his hand, took two ends off, rolled them and make it into a string, lit it until smoke start covering the whole cell then the zol was lit. Wow, Amazing. a smell of ganja was cleared inside the cell, only sweet scent of what seemed to be like an expensive cigarette remained.

    ‘Huh real staff they got outside heh!’. Said Inja

    One would wonder why was he called by that name? After all he was in for raping his younger cousin; he did not deserve the honor…four months old baby raped by thirty year old guy. Man! This guy must rot in hell.

    ‘You man… Take!, You sat there said nothing ever since you got here on Thursday!’. Said Inja ka satane{Satan’s dog} to the man who looked more like a priest at the far end of the cell shower entrance to the right.

    ‘Ag man! I don’t smoke, and stop calling me man!, my name is Jacob, Jacob khotso Mokhethi’ he said with a strong voice.

    ‘hey man, just wanted you to be with us…cause I can see you are miles away, you are not charged with a crime yet. Have a smoke with us and forget about your troubles, by the way what are you in for?, not stopping at a stop street huh?…

    {They all laughed.}

    Jacob answered as he takes a zol to smoke ‘I haven’t been smoking for a while, ten and half years is not a joke hey!… i told myself i was not going to smoke ganja again in my life, and the reason I am here is murder. Ye! I killed my bitching wife.

    They all looked at him in amazement and later followed by silence as the men paid attention to Jacob who claimed that murder was what brought him here and not the parking ticket or anything to do with rules of the road.

    {Inja looked at him with disbelief and said in a low note} ‘man you…’

    {khotso interrupted as if he was reading Inja ka satane,s mind} ‘Yeah! I know, I don’t seem the type, that must be the question in your mind’.

    ‘for real now man, what happened?’{pirates inturupted as if killing another human being was nothing and that khotso should get done with his story}

    ‘life is hard out there guys…’

    {inja interrrupted khotso to show his impatience} ‘cut the crab man, say what you want to say’

    khotso looked up to grasp his breath, his eyes sweeping across the cell walls. he remembered his parents house, back in Mabopane unit H his

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