I called an old high school friend today, I was desperate for cash so I asked him if he could buy a book from me. For only R200, judging from his social media posts, that should be nothing to him. I explained I had written a book and would be happy if he could get a copy for himself and read my story…he was all too happy to support! Support! I didn’t want to use that word. Support! This word has the ability to make me feel less sufficient as an adult! It just reminds me of my daughters and how I am unable to support them. It just reminds me of how dependent on others for support…others to support me so I could eat from time to time; like my mother buying me groceries because I cannot afford to care for myself; or my current girlfriend buying me clothes because she thinks the rags I own make me look poor. And now my old friend would be happy to support me! By buying just one copy of a book that cost me the most money I had ever held in years to get.
I hadn’t worked for money in a while. For some reason,
charging people for chess lessons felt like a very desperate move on my part,
so I stopped charging. You would charge what you think the lesson is worth, and
people will complain and tell you what they can afford. You would argue about
how all this money only covers the transport to their venue and they would
argue that not a lot of kids are interested in paying for something they don’t understand;
which really sounds stupid because that should be the one thing they spend on,
getting to understand what they don’t understand! But winning an argument with
a potential client means losing the client, or so we have been told. Thus in
situations like these, for fear of diminishing the value of the game in the eyes
of bystanders, I always feel it is necessary to just let everybody come attend
the class for free instead of charging peanuts for lessons. And so it had been
like that for years.
If you asked I would tell you it was worth it, doing it for
free! It felt like I owned the process. If no one paid me, it meant that no one
could tell me a thing when it comes to the quality of the lessons I gave. I was
doing it for me! So when I dedicated extra hours to it, it as to prove to myself
that everything I touch turns to gold! It was a dedication to prove to myself that
I cannot make money, but I can make a difference! I so desperately wanted to
make a difference that I forgot about the importance of money; except for the
times when my mother asked if I planned to find a real job; or when my daughter
called saying she missed me because she hadn’t seen me in a while; then I would
have to scrape for some cash to get me to Jo’burg to see her for a few days and
come back.
It didn’t matter if I ate or not on the way. I was already
used to not eating. Sometimes I would spend a whole day without eating and not
really knowing whether I would eat the next day or not. But I tell you, each
time I got in front of these kids to talk about the pawns and the knights; the
rooks and the bishops; the Kings and the Queens, I would feel as powerful as
the Queens and as important as the Kings! These two or three hours where the
most special hours of all my days. I just wished they would last longer, but I couldn’t
keep the kids all day with me!
So that was that. To reminisce of these moments and not feel
like my life was wasting away, I would write about my experiences like a
sociologist involved in some crucial social research with the potential of
changing the fate of rural communities. It made sense because I am of course a
Sociology graduate, though I was as broke as a dropout. I wrote about my pains
being this poor with so much knowledge of such valuable things; I wrote about
the circumstances I found myself in and what may have led to it; my struggles
with love and relationships because, who would want to be with a poor
smart-ass? I wrote down all my feelings
just to keep living and feel there was meaning to all this charade. I wrote to
ward off depression and anxiety especially when the nights got colder and more
lonelier. I wrote to give value and meaning to these hunger pangs that seemed
to have found a home in me. I wrote until
I had enough to compile a book of reflections and I called it “The Black Chronicles- Reflections from the
Dark Side”
I had not felt so driven about personal achievement for a
long time until that book. I was so committed to seeing it come to be! The culmination
of all my education and sufferings coming to one piece of work. I found a guy
who claimed he was a book publisher and he promised to make all my desires into
a reality for a fee.
He charged me money I did not have; money I had never seen in
a very long time, if not ever. But I was so determined and confident that the
book had to come out; I was so sure it could add value to me and to others who
may have the opportunity to read it.
I spoke to my younger brother and all he could spare was a
thousand rands; my mother also contributed the same but two thousand rands was
just too far from the target amount. I got a promotional job for a week and a
few days which paid a few good thousands; but after tax, there was little good
left of the thousands, so I still had around three thousand five hundred rands
towards the R6500 this guy needed. That is when I called out to a good friend
of mine named thabo, and without too many questions, Thabo immediately sent the
R3000 to the guys account.
I felt like my life was shifting towards the right direction.
I felt like my dreams were at that point validated by this grandiose gesture
from this friend of mine and I felt that with such support (yes, support!)
nothing was beyond my reach.
A week later, this guy whom I will now refer to as Mr. Born
Great, he calls to tell me my book appears longer than expected and the
printers needed extra money for the number of copies we had ordered. That was
100 copies ordered. The printers needed another R1500, he said.
That was money I did not have; money I had no way of getting.
My hopes began fading. I could not go back to Thabo and undermine his great gesture
by asking him for more after he had just given so much. It wouldn’t be right,
morally speaking.
Everyone else, I had already tried and they had given me
their reasons why they were unable to assist before, so it would be useless to go
to them now with a new story hoping they change theirs. Everyone I had asked,
except my girlfriend at the time. I had to swallow what little pride I had left
and ask my employed girlfriend to loan me money I otherwise had no way of
paying back.
I would like to pretend that this situation presented a huge
paradigm shift for me but the truth is I had learned long ago that in a
desperate situation, any help is good help regardless of whom it comes from. I
also thought it would be unfair to not allow her the opportunity to offer me
help when I needed it. However, I hated the fact that at that point I was
starting to doubt the sincerity of Mr. Born Great, thinking why would he send
me a quote without knowing the actual size of the book; but I quickly shut off
that questioning voice because I could not convince anyone to finance a project
I have doubts about.
Juliet gave me the money and Mr. Born Great was paid up. We waited
for the 100 copies as promised and a serious marketing plan to get us our money
back as soon as possible.
I couldn’t wait to hold the book in my hand and speak about
it to anyone who would listen; Blood, Sweat and Tears beautifully packaged in
an amazing golden cover designed by the extremely talented Jolene Nkuna of
SerutciPhothography.
The moment came and I seized it in my hands; my life here in
my hands, I thought. I felt so ashamed that I had packaged my pain in a book
for anyone to read about. I just wished it would be sold somewhere far from me
where no one personally knew me. But the books where here now and it was upon
me to sell them. All 50 that Mr. Born Great brought instead of the 100 we
agreed on. He would sell the others from his side in Pretoria and Nkomazi
through his shops.
I opened the book and was struck with instant grief at the
sight of the dedication page:
I dedicate this book to my late sister Beatrice Bhila as her
soul c
ontinues to rest
in peace
What happened to the word “continues”? why is it broken? Mr.
Born Great had no answers! I looked through the whole book and it appeared all
the pages had the same problem! Words were sloppily broken stealing away the
reading flow and pleasure from the reader. It was just a painful labour reading
the book. It was not what anyone expects when they pay to get a book printed
and certainly nothing like anyone would expect when they buy a book.
I was broken. So much money wasted printing this mistakes! Why
didn’t he ask for a proof copy? Why did he not fix the mistake before going to
print? Its not like he was chasing a deadline?!
I wondered how this mistake happened until I figured it out I
had sent him a PDF ready to print copy which was properly aligned but he
requested I send him a word document so he could do some edits. It turned out
that the Word doc program I had used to type the book was not compatible with
the one he was using to make the edits. In fact, there was no edit that needed
his hand, he just wanted to add his name to it and claim that it was
“Published and Distributed by: Born Great Movement”
It was so disappointing that he would rather have his name on
my product even if it meant compromising the quality of the product itself!
And there I was calling this old friend for a sale and he
says he would be happy to support me by buying a book. I was all too happy to
hear him say these assuring words. I was so glad that R200 was coming my way
just in time for my older daughter’s birthday. I would buy cake for R80 and a
2 liter soft drink for R20 or so…I’m not quite sure how much those cost, haven’t
bought one in a while. The other R100 would get me 2 braai packs of chicken to
hopefully last me for the month. I guess it makes sense to use the word support
after all!
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The Black Chronicles and my other books are available on eBook from Amazon through the link below:
https://www.amazon.com/Eddie-Bhila/e/B08F3HG71F
Hard copies can be purchased via Takealot through the link below :
The Coach Life Adventures Through Chess
https://www.takealot.com/the-coach/PLID65914423
The Coach Chess Manual
https://www.takealot.com/the-coach-chess-manual/PLID69487127
