Virtual Book Tour Dates: 12/1/14 – 12/15/14
Genres: Psychological Thriller
On the fringes of a civil war arise a kaleidoscope of stories of
abuse, power, betrayal, sex, love, and absolution, all united by the
failings of a dying government. Set in the backdrop during the last
years of South Africa’s apartheid, How the Water Falls is a
psychological thriller that unfolds the truth and deception of the
system’s victims, perpetrators, and unlikely heroes.
STOOD OUTSIDE of her workplace with a sign that read, “Work for First
African Bank and Die of Starvation Wages.” Down the block, at a shoe
store, a light-skinned man in his mid-fifties stood in front of his
workplace with another sign that read, “Work for Edworks and Die of
Starvation Wages.” Not far from him, a third accomplice—a young Zulu
woman—stood in front of a clothing store holding a similar sign. All
three lived in different townships, but Lena had managed to speak with
them about staging this little protest during their lunch break. At
first they were reluctant, fearing losing a job that had taken a long
time to find. But none of them were paid the same wages as their white
co-workers. Despite the fact that blacks were allowed to be employed in
the downtown Johannesburg retail district, and had been for some years
now, there were issues regarding pay and pay raises. They were earning
nearly half of what their white counterparts were making, suggesting
that they were worth half a human being. Lena had also contacted Robert
Mlambisi from the paper to take photos. She understood it would not make
the front page; nonetheless, to be mentioned at all in a newspaper
would still achieve attention.
“How you been, sista?” Robert asked, giving her a hug while holding his camera with his other hand.
“Well, I am still ‘ere,” she smiled.
“That is much of a good thing as any!” he laughed. “It’s good to see you rreturning to your old habits. Good indeed!”
“Thanks for coming, Rrobbie. Dis is much apprreciated.”
“For a worthy cause, anytime. Anytime! But I must confess, this will be my last assignment with The Daily Harbour,” he said. “Starrting at the end of the month, I will be working for The Sowetan.”
“Oh, I see,” she nodded. “Why ‘aven’t you worrked with dem frrom de beginning?”
“To prrove a point I can work for a white newspaper strrictly on my own merrits.
But as luck would have it, my editor ‘as hired his quota of blacks this
year, simply because they are black. Naturally that leaves me to ponder
why he hirred me in the first place. So now, I’m moving on to where my talents arre acknowledged, I think.”
Gently pressing his hand for support, she said, “Good luck, Rrobbie. I’m surre you will find fulfillment dere.”
“So does my wife!” he laughed again. “She ‘as thrreatened
to find anotha ‘usband if I don’t stop complaining so much.” Catching
his breath, he announced, “So, Lena, shall we begin?”
stepped back to the edge of the sidewalk and started to snap shots.
Several people, who were white, walked by Lena and the other two
protesters, and only glanced at the signs. Robbie took the photos of the
passersby glancing at the signs. Although not stopping, they were at
least noticing the existence of the signs. Robert eased his way around
to photograph the two others who were dressed in their fine work attire
appropriate for retail sales. Twenty minutes into the silent protest,
the owner of the shoe store swung the entrance of the door open. In his
early forties, wearing a suit and tie, he angrily pointed at his
“What is the meaning of this, Dingane?” he demanded.
“Rread de sign, baas,” he calmly replied, as if softly blowing a toy boat down the stream.
at Robert, he turned his pointing finger into his direction. “You
there!” he cried. “Stop taking photos! You have no right to take photos
in front of my place of business!”
Robert removed his press card from his jacket to show the store owner.
“This is public prroperty,” Robert defended smoothly. “As a member of the prress, I ‘ave the rright to be ‘ere. You can call the police if you like, but I tell you, they cannot do anything to stop me.”
owner blinked as if he had been slapped in the face. Then turning to
his employee, he ranted, “Dingane, get back inside before I fire you!
You know very well I pay you the going rate for kaffirs!”
smeared a smile, exposing two missing teeth, one on the top, the other
on the bottom. “Yes, baas,” he replied evenly, sarcastically. “An’ how
fery kind of you. A man wit morals may pay more. But not you, baas. Tank
you for being like any utta man on dis block so my childrren can starve.”
the owner crossed his arms. “Well, it’s not my fault you people breed
like rabbits! That’s the real problem. You people don’t stop having
children you cahn’t afford!”
at Robert as if soliciting strength to not hit his employer, Dingane
returned to stare at him. “Could you, honestly, feed a family wit 30 rrands a mont? Afta taxes?”
“I write your paychecks. I know how much you make!”
“Den shall I make a sign for you, too, baas? Come join us?”
his jaw, he cleared his throat. “Dingane, I’m warning you. If you do
not come inside now, I suggest you don’t come inside my store— ever
He sighed and shrugged. “You hafe my addrress to mail my las’ check, baas.”
the store owner began pointing once more. “You need to leave these
premises for loitering, Dingane! I can call the police on this matter
and they can arrest you, and your two girlfriends, for that!” Then
pointing at Lena and the other young woman, he vented, “The same applies
to you both! I’ll call your bosses as well if both of you don’t remove
all this nonsense!”
The owner stomped inside his store, glaring out the window as he picked up his phone.
Dingane joked, “All dis calling will only wear out dat little pointy finger of ‘is!”
Lena and Robert laughed.
Robert promptly announced, “Well, Lena, it looks like I won the bet. It took more than ten minutes before one of them brroke down!”
About the Author:
am fortunate to have been trained by one the top ten writing teachers
in the US, the late Leonard Bishop, and author of Dare to be a Great
Writer. I owe my love of writing to him. How The Water Falls
is my second novel. Although I’ve been writing since my childhood, I
have a BA in history. I love studying history as much as wanting to
evoke stories. I like to believe that after decades worth of
introspection we have learned more wisely than something that happened
yesterday, because what happened yesterday affects how we live today.
Although I’ve been writing since childhood, I have a BA in history. I
love studying history as much as wanting to evoke stories. I like to
believe that after decades worth of introspection we have learned more
wisely than something that happened yesterday, because what happened
yesterday affects how we live today. That’s why I love history: To
learn. To question. To redeem our humanity. Submitting to a moment in
time allows us to remember, or to muse even, over our society’s past.
Although writing can educate as well as entertain, yet what makes art
incredibly amazing, to that of paintings, photographs, and music, it
transposes emotion into another form of humanity, and therefore, it is
our humanity which keeps all of us striving for an improved future. In
addition to writing, I draw, paint, create graphic design, and am an
Connect With The Author:
Enter to win one of four print and autographed copies of this book!
Open to residents located in the USA. This giveaway will run Nov. 15-
Dec. 15, 2014. Enter at Goodreads!