Cion by Zakes Mda

gathered bottles from the Dumpster behind the store and attempted to sell them at the front, as his daddy had done before him. It didn’t register in his little greedy mind that pop bottlers had long since gone for non-returnable bottles. The man shooed him away. Angry at being denied his God-given right to participate in the capitalist system, Obed dumped a garbage bag full of pop bottles on the floor of the store and dashed away for his life. But he could not outrun the man. Soon he caught up with him. “Yeah, he beat the shit out of me,” whispered Obed. “You could beat the crap out of kids back in them days and nobody would say nothing.”
    Now his fear is that the man will be prejudiced against him. But the man does not seem to remember him. He is all smiles as we all introduce ourselves to one another. After realizing that I really did not have a direct role in the events in question he says that only the parties involved in the dispute should be in the room. I cannot sit in to support Obed since Beth has no one to support her. It would not be true mediation with supporters and advocates in attendance. I am about to leave and wait for Obed outside when Beth tells the mediators that she does not mind my presence. She, in fact, pleads that I stay. I know. It is the result of the talk we had yesterday. She sees me more as her support system than Obed’s.
    The man explains the mediation process. It is not a trial. Mediators are not judges. They merely serve as neutral and impartial guides to enable the conflicting parties to reach a solution that is acceptable to both parties. Theirs is not to establish guilt or innocence. Theirs is to help the disputing parties reach some kind of reconciliation. This will not be forced on the parties; the parties themselves must work toward finding an acceptable solution. All decisions reached through this process will be the disputing parties’ and not the mediators’. Everything said in this room will remain in this room. We therefore must share our ideas freely and respect confidentiality.
    “We all hope that by the end of the process Obed and Beth will reach an agreement,” says the man. “But even before we start the process we need to reach our first agreement: we are going to listen to one another, aren’t we?”
    Both Obed and Beth agree that indeed they are going to listen to each other.
    The mediators display great excitement at this, but I suspect they are faking it. The woman says, “You see, it shows that we are capable of agreeing on something.”
    This gives me hope that Obed will cooperate and forget all ideas of “walking.” But I am wrong. After the mediators ask the parties to tell their stories, and when Beth gets to the point where she switches on the light and spots the cowering flesh-and-blood Nicodemus, Obed shouts that it was not him. He was never anywhere near the sorority house that day. In fact, he does not even know where the sorority house in question is located. In any case, he goes on with his rant, how does Beth know it was not the real Nicodemus who fondled her breasts? Where does she get off blaming a poor man just because he is poor and is not white and is not from the university?
    Beth is astounded. She starts to weep and the female mediator hands her a box of tissues. I spring to my feet and, begging the mediators’ pardon, drag Obed out. In the passageway I tell him how disappointed I am in him: “Do you think you can just piss on all the trouble I took to get this girl to agree to withdraw the case if we have mediation? I tell you, if you continue this way I will not be in your corner anymore and for sure you will find yourself in jail.”
    We return to the room and Beth is able to complete her story without further interruption. The woman mediator is curious to know why she wants mediation in what should rightly be a criminal case…why she doesn’t let the police and the courts handle the matter. Beth tells her that she could feel