This Thing Called the Future by J.L. Powers Page A

if that’s what I saw, Mama? What if a witch put a curse on one of us and that bird is the sign?”
    â€œNa! and who would want to harm us, Khosi? What have we ever done to create enemies?” That’s what she would say, adding, “Even if people try to do something against you, the only power they have over you is your fear.”
    I’ve heard her say something like that many times.
    So I keep telling myself, It’s nothing, just like Mama would say. It’s just my imagination. It’s nothing except…it’s not just the lightning bird. It’s my dreams. And it’s the witch—her threat, and the fact that she must have gotten some of my skin under her fingernails so she could send the impundulu to come for me, to kidnap or to kill me.
    Still, I don’t tell Mama when she joins me for breakfast. Or Gogo when she wakes up. I keep the lightning bird a secret.
    Why? Because I hope I’m right. I hope it’s nothing.
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    When Mama leaves, even though it’s still dark, only 4 o’clock in the morning, our neighbor lady is waiting outside. Why isn’t she inside, drinking tea and having breakfast? Or sleeping? What is she doing outside, staring at our house as if she wishes evil on us?
    Though Mama greets her pleasantly, “Good morning, Mama,” Inkosikazi Dudu says nothing in response. She just shakes her fist at Mama’s back when she steps outside the gate.
    â€œWhy did she do that?” I ask.
    â€œShe got angry when I told her there was very little money in her husband’s insurance settlement,” Mama says. She sighs. “Perhaps she is blaming me instead of her husband.”
    When I go back inside, I peek over at Inkosikazi Dudu’s house. She is standing just inside, the door cracked open, watching as Mama walks down the road to the khumbi stop.

PART TWO
    THE CROCODILE

CHAPTER NINE
    GROWN-UP GIRL
    After Mama leaves, she stays in Greytown for too many weeks. She says she’s just too busy to come home, but she used to come home every weekend, no matter how much work she had.
    Zi misses Mama so much. Because she won’t let anybody but Mama touch her hair, it starts to look ratty. I beg her, “Please, Zi, please let me comb your hair.”
    â€œNo,” she yells and runs under the bed to hide.
    â€œMaybe we should shave her head,” I suggest.
    â€œElizabeth will return soon, I’m sure,” Gogo replies.
    â€œMaybe Mama can talk to Inkosikazi Dudu when she returns,” I say. Ever since Mama left, Inkosikazi Dudu has spent a lot of time in her yard, brooding over her broom and staring at our house. She won’t speak to us about it, though. In fact, she isn’t speaking to us at all, even when we greet her.
    Gogo’s face crinkles up in worry as soon as I mention the next-door neighbor. She’s so short and small, it makes me want to protect her. “I don’t know what is her problem.”
    Anger like Inkosikazi Dudu’s is always something to fear. When people get too angry, who knows what they’re willing to do, even to go so far as to make a bargain with the devil.
    â€œI am sure Inkosikazi Dudu will forget about it just now,” I say. But
I don’t think I reassure either of us. So I try joking: “It’s just that the tokoloshe has been whispering lies in her ear all night long.”
    Zi’s head pops out from under the bed. “What’s the tokoloshe ?” she asks.
    Gogo and I look at each other. “You mean I haven’t told you any tales of the tokoloshe ?” Gogo says. “I will have to fix that at bedtime some night.”
    â€œThe tokoloshe is a tiny tiny man,” I tell her. “So tiny, he fits in the palm of your hand. He’s hairy all over and he looks like he’s half-baboon, half-man. He can turn himself into any shape he wants, though, and he’s very mischievous. He likes to play mean jokes on