Half-past seven in the morning, Molefi hits the bell at the Polemann mansion, reporting for work for the first time. Dressed in a blue short-sleeve shirt, beige trousers and wearing a striped tie, his brogue shoes glitter in the early morning sun. He carries a small travelling bag containing a tourist's three-day needs. The excuse at home had been that he might not return home after today's induction.

Pono is at the door to welcome Molefi, but this time with a warm smile. "Welcome, boss."

Molefi flinches at being called a boss. Since when?

In the main living room waiting for the new hire, an act Pono considers strange, Bandele perches on the sofa wearing a white cufflinks shirt, a pair of blue trousers and loafers. His choice of clothing indicates the importance he accords this day. He expects a lot from the incoming lad.

Molefi steps into the house in brisk strides, walks to the middle of the sitting-room flashing a long stare at Bandele who suddenly pass for a business executive. He's unsure if previous new-hires got similar reception on their resumption day. "Good Morning, sir!"

Bandele grits his teeth, digesting the overall impression that the new hire is ready for the new role. "You're lucky you dress well." He lifts to his feet, clasping both hands. "If you come today in a t-shirt or sneakers, I'll ask you to go home and look for another job. Ask Pono." He points his lips toward the diminutive lad who nods a thousand times.

Bandele plods around Molefi, checking out every part of his body as if the lad is on auction. "Smart boy, what do you have for me today?"

In what will turn out a very busy day, Molefi drops his bag to retrieve three sheets of paper. The long hours put into writing last night will now prove invaluable. "This is a magnificent building..."

Bandele waves his left hand, a sign that reminds Molefi he must dumb down his presentation. No need for over-the-moon vocabularies.

Molefi begins calmly, taking up formal posturing. "This building is a big and special one."

Bandele takes a seat, reclining on the backrest of the sofa.

"Instead of the 'No. 1' on the sign-post outside, a building like this should have a special name. If this is a developed country, they'll call this place a palace or a castle."

Bandele tilts his head, stroking his chin. "What do you think it should be?"

"Well, one of the options I came up with is The Polemann Castle."

Bandele casts a long glance into the distance, nodding at the proposed label which sounds okay. Molefi takes that to mean a pass mark. He rolls out his ideas more resolutely.

"To announce the new name, we may put a panel at the top of the building. An electronic panel that will display shining lights, just like those in big night clubs. No one will miss the building when they enter the street. The entire Soweto will know that there's only one castle: the one belonging to Bandele – The Lion of Soweto."

Bandele moves to the edge of the chair. "What did you just call me now?"

"Lion of Soweto, sir." Molefi's face drops, unsure how the boss will receive the appellation.

"A lion?"

Silence.

It occurs to Molefi to do some explaining, but Bandele's sudden weird guffaw puts the idea in check. The big man's laughter spreads out to the surrounding buildings.

The driver, along with the security guys, balks on their seats.

Molefi sheds light nonetheless. "Sir, you're like a lion in this environment. People of this area depend on you in so many ways. And for that reason, they must recognise your leadership, your supremacy."

"They don't know I'm like their saviour."

Molefi's jaw drops. Praise words get into this man's head.

Bandele horselaughs and then faces Pono. "Did you hear what he just called me? The overall Lion of Soweto." He rubs his tummy. "For a hundred years you work here, you don't know I'm a lion." He alternates a couple of glances between the two men and, as if pricked by a pin, announces sharply: "From today on Pono, Molefi is your boss."

"Okay, sir." Pono steals an expression-free glance at Molefi who only manages a grin.

"You can see that his big head is not for nothing."

"Okay, sir."

"Now, rush to Jabulani Mall and get me someone that will put the new Polemann Castle at the top of this house. We now live in a castle."

Molefi cuts a portion off the paper sheet and hands over to Pono. "Take note, friend. It should be – The Polemann Castle." He emphasises 'The.'

"Okay, boss."

With Pono out of sight, Molefi follows Bandele upstairs where he continues with his reform agenda. "Since you hold business meetings in this room, and members of the community gather here, we need to put a projector in the ceiling."

Bandele's face turns upwards while he glimpses the ceramic ceiling. "Why?"

"When people come here to discuss or to ask for help, they should show evidence of the subject of their discussion – pictures or video – so that you'll know they're saying the truth. The projector will help with that. And also, tenants can show you the condition of your properties on the street."

"Good. That makes sense."

"So we can call this place the lobbyroom since most people ask for one help or the other."

"Lobi-room?"

"L-o-b-b-y-r-o-o-m." Molefi slurs.

"Good, yes...good. They come here to lobby me."

Happy that another idea sticks, Molefi takes a seat. Bandele follows suit.

"Sir, stop sending Pono to call ladies for you. You're a big man and mustn't stress yourself before they rush to you."

"You're correct. Pono doesn't know I'm like those people in Sandton. I'm even better because I help many girls in Soweto."

"With your position in the community, you should have them on your tablet where you can select the one you want."

"Ehn." The eagerness Molefi brings to this job impresses. But many have shown similar zeal, only to try to steal from him.

"Yes, boss. When we computerise these things, ladies will come here once you tap your fingers. There'll be no hiding place for the most sophisticated ones among them."

"Sophisticate? That English sounds like the one some people said years back. They wanted to sophisticate and computerise the security of this house, but all they wanted was my money. Is that what you're talking about?" Bandele sticks out his neck.

"Not security, sir. You've asked me not to look into that. I'm talking about how to get the best ladies here using an extensive database system. Pono will get their details into electronic forms. The more details we have about them, the less the chances they'll turn you down."

"Okay... okay." Bandele listens with the patience of a schoolchild.

"When they arrive here, you'll let them know you have their details – that you've been eyeing them for long. If they see you've done your homework, they won't turn you down. Never again."

"Wonderful."

One idea follows another as Molefi etches his name into the boss's heart. Before 4 pm, a well-decorated neon panel rests atop the building. Next is the projector which hangs down from the lobbyroom ceiling.

Pono runs around to ensure things are done smoothly. Much as he's learning from Molefi's reforms, he equally pockets kickbacks from the artisans handling the different tasks. The more there is to do, the bulkier his pockets.

Bandele steps out of the mansion to inspect the new electronic panel from the outside.

"Good." He ignores residents waving at him from a distance. "You have really done well today," he says to Molefi before they return indoors.

"Tomorrow, I want to see what you have for us first thing in the morning. Go and get your room ready. Did you come with a list of the things you need?"

"I have them here, sir." Molefi digs into his folder.

"Come with me." The Soweto Lion goes to his bedroom upstairs, bringing Molefi along. "Have you selected your room?"

"Yes, sir."

Bandele fetches ten thousand rands from his cabinet, tossing it at Molefi. "Get groceries and other things you need. I'm sure your room is furnished already."

"Yes...sir. Thank you, sir." The wads of new mint thrust at Molefi drop his shoulders, but more fascinating are the stacks of dollar bills lining the cabinet.

Molefi leaves the room, carrying the cash like a sack of gold. Should he start paying up his student loans? Well, maybe that should wait – it's still too early for debt servicing. But then, who buys groceries with ten thousand rands?

A desk and a desktop computer system are all he needs to start work. It will be unwise to start thinking of buying clothes and stuff. Much as Bandele will like his aides to look good, it will backfire once he starts dressing too smart.

Later in the evening, two police patrol-vans park outside the castle, inspired by the gleaming neon lighting at the mansion top. The wailing siren prompts Molefi to step out of the building, but the now active security men make him retreat.

Responding to a security alert, Bandele climbs down the stairs wearing a sleeveless ankle-length robe. Molefi accompanies his boss to the gate, where the door to the security post opens up, allowing the new hire a glimpse into the sophisticated gadgets in use. Molefi heaves a long but silent sigh, notching up his respect for his boss.

The police officers, eight in all, all of different ranks, alight from their vehicles to salute the Polemann landlord.

Bandele responds with a nod, rubbing his tummy, glancing far into the street to observe that residents have gathered in groups to discuss his mansion's new name. Polemann people will soon visit him to celebrate the name. That's for sure.

But the mansion's new name isn't the only item on the agenda this evening. He's introducing Molefi – his new egghead – to the community.

To do so, Bandele waves at residents in the distance, before turning to the police officers, yawning. "Gentlemen, why are you here this evening?"

"Nkosi, we came to congratulate you for successfully renaming your mansion." The inspector stands at attention, his colleagues respond accordingly.

"Thank you, all of you. I'm doing new things here." He points at Molefi who waves at the police officers.

"Okay, sir." The inspector says. "There's no need to worry?"

"No problem. Greet your boss for me." Bandele stretches out his hands to Molefi for cash, but the lad shifts away, unsure what the gesture means.

Pono rushes forward from nowhere, knowing it would come to this, hands over an envelope to Bandele who presents it to the police inspector.

"Okay, sir." The inspector's salute gets sharper, his colleagues' crispier.

"Goodnight, sir." They chorus as Bandele leaves.

Molefi plods behind his boss, nursing some niggling fears. With the kind of support the police give Bandele, he can easily toss one behind bars should one cross his path. For the first time, he studies the big man's gaits. Bandele walks without swinging hands – his pace is large and measured, almost regal.

As if reading his aide's thoughts, Bandele pauses abruptly, turning to Molefi. "You don't have a budget?"

"Err...budget sir?" Molefi scratches his head.

"Money you'll use to run around."

"Not yet, sir."

"Pono will explain to you. Ask me for your budget tomorrow."

Wondering if that will affect his salary, Molefi corners Pono for a briefing, during which the latter explains that they sometimes perform tasks for which they needn't ask Bandele for cash. Tips to police officers are one of such. Changing worn-out bulbs is another.

"It's not part of your salary." Pono clears Molefi's doubts.

"Oh, okay. Thanks, man."

"Sure, boss."

Around 7 pm, Molefi takes a seat in the living room, glad that the day went well. He calls his sister. "Auntie, I won't make it there tonight. They like my work so much that they ask me to stay here for a whole month."

"Really! Praise to the living God."

The two exchange banters for a bit. Effusive Molefi can't hold back his excitement which the lady feels over the phone. "I'll pay you a visit when you're fully settled."

"No problem, auntie. You're welcome."

Close to midnight, while reclining on the king-size mattress in his bedroom, strategizing for tomorrow's work, Molefi hears footsteps of about four people in the compound. Wondering what's amiss, he dials Pono's number but the phone is off.

Soon, laser beams crisscross his room, directed at the wall clock and then on his face. His back stifles as he jerks up from the bed. The window is firmly shut and the light went off an hour ago. Who could be doing this?