Scribbled by Lunga El Bulana

𝕭𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖘

■01■

It’s been a tough year since my mother, Nozinga passed away. Now, I live with my father’s first wife and my spoilt three half-siblings. My father works in Gauteng and only comes back for a short break once a year.

Things at home are not easy. Ever since Nozinga left, it feels like a heavy cloud is always hanging over me. MaMbotho, my step mother and I don’t really get along, and my half-siblings sometimes make it hard for me too.

Nzotho, my father being away most of the time leaves us on our own. His annual visits are the only times we really see him. It’s tough dealing with everything without him around. The fire becomes unbearable.

I miss Nozinga a lot, and it feels like everything changed when she left. I try to keep going, hoping for better days ahead.
“Are you alright?” a soft touch on my shoulder pulls me out of my misery.
“Nomhle, we talked about you sneaking up to here,” she never really listen to anyone.
I watch her casually strolling past me like my room is hers. She has this carefree way about her, as if it is the most natural thing in the world. I watch, no longer surprised, as she heads straight to my bed like she owns the place.
“No one saw me coming in. I jumped the rusty fence at the back,” she sits comfortably on my bed.
She has to be the most free bird I’ve ever seen.

“Nomhle, this is my bedroom not ours. Respect yourself. We spoke about this a numerous times,” it’s hard keeping a straight face for her.

“You spoke and I listened. It’s not talking…” she shrugs.
I nod in defeat. I can’t help it, but smile. It is like her carefree spirit brings a touch of joy to the heaviness that usually fills the room. In this moment, I beginning to realise that even in the midst of difficulties, a friend like Nomhle could turn things around with her easy-going nature.
“What’s on the shopping bag?” curiosity gets the better of me.
“Oh, my mother was home. She prepared your favourite meal and I stole some for you. Beef stew and samp,” she warmly smiles while handing over the lunch box full of home-cooked goodness.
She can tell I am going through a tough time, and her visit is like a burst of sunshine in the gloomy days.
“You didn’t go to school?” I give her a narrowed look.
She clears a throat, “No, but I promise I didn’t do anything. My mother is in short for money to pay the fees,” she warily tells me.
There’s a brief silence and only our eyes holding a stare of tension and conflict. She shifts her gaze elsewhere and picks up a newspaper on my night table. I open the Café tin.
“How much do you need?” I break the cold silence.
She sweeps her under eyes with her spider's leg eye lashes as she throws a stare at me.
“She will handle it, Menziwa!” she harshly tells me.
“I know that but you need to be in school now,” I shoot back.
“Can we not talk about me, but how you just decided to stop going to the station to sell your shoes?” she steers the subject out of the way.
“The Municipality banned me from having a stand there, but I’ll make a plan. Must I call your mother and ask if how much do you need for your school fees?” I threaten.
“She did give me the money, Menziwa but I used it to take my brother to the doctor for a medical check-up,” she whispers with glassy eyes.
I knew it. She always puts others first before everything.
“What did the doctor say?”
“He is diabetic hence the seizures,” she wipes away a lone tear. “But he’ll take the treatment. Eat good food and be fine,” she convinces herself.
“Did you tell your mother?” I sit next to her.
She looks away and shakes her head off.
“She won’t take it too well. She has too many issues to deal with. I’ll take care of him,” she always does take care of everyone.
“I’m sorry…” I can only offer that much. “But you have to go back to school,” I pull her into an embrace.
“We need more money than before, Menziwa. I can’t go back to school,” she dismisses the idea.
“I know that. I will help you. Just stay in school,” I take a vow. She’s very intelligent not to have at least grade 12.
She pulls away from me, “You have your own family, Menziwa. I can’t let you do that. I will be fine. Really…” she whispers.
“You know, if I had a brain like yours I wouldn’t be a family provider by now. Especially for the family that wishes nothing good for me. These people hate me. If I had brains I’d be in college and maybe studying to become a doctor, a lawyer or anything there is to study for a genius like you,” I tell her.
I repeated almost every grade I did back in school. I never got to high school until I decided it was time for me to be a man and work.
“They are still your family…” she shrugs.
“One family that wouldn’t hesitate to make me disappear, the same way my mother did. You call me a provider, but the only reason why the Municipality chased me out of that spot was Mncedisi. My own brother,” I tell her.
“He did what?” she is very much shocked.
I guess this paper didn’t go via her when it spread around the village.
“It happens,” I am used to my hand being bitten by those I feed most of the time.
“Did you confront him?” she’s burning with anger.
This is her ex boyfriend we’re talking about. One that she purely hates.
“There was no need to. Poverty will confront him when it sits upon the whole family like a thief in the night. My father hardly sends the money,” I am not really worried.
I always make a plan to survive. I don’t know about MaMbotho’s children.
“And how will you survive? Mncedisi has gone too far this time. Just do something. Teach him a lesson of a life time!” she hates violence but now she’s perpetuating it in a very few words.
“It’s not every fight that you must fight, Nomhle. Sometimes you have to let the gods see their own creation,” I reopen the Café tin again.
“You are very good person than I am,” she is now calm.
“I will give you the money to pay your fees. Come and get the vegetables for your brother after school tomorrow. If I’m not around ask Vuyelwa to help you in the garden,” I tell her.
She stares at me for a very long time and wets her lips before looking elsewhere. She’s deeply thinking of something. She looks at me again with glassy eyes and nods.
“I owe you my life for this,” she says with a trembling voice.
“Friends don’t owe each other anything. They are made to just care about each other,” I squeeze her hand a little.
She clears a throat and nods, “Friends…” she whispers beneath her breath.
It is comforting to have someone who cared enough to check up on me.
As we chat, Nomhle reminds me of the better days and makes me forget, even if just for a moment, the heaviness that lingers at home. Her presence becomes a bright spot in the midst of the struggles, and I feel grateful for a friend like her.

Later on the day, I walked Nomhle home and walked in to greet her little brother. I left only to take a walk around the village, then headed back home at half past the hour ten o’clock. The yard was heavily quiet but I couldn’t shake off the feeling that someone was looking at me from somewhere. The dogs were sharply barking. I threw my eyes in the kraal and noticed something very much strange. The cattle was leaning against the wall of the kraal and surrounding something in the centre. Curiosity almost got the better of me, but I decided to leave my father’s kraal alone for my own peace. In fearful doubts, I retired to bed.
“Menziwa! Menziwa!” I hear MaMbotho’s desperate voice with a loud bang on the door.
I wake up and pick up my wrist watch. It is way past midnight. I pull a trouser and jump on it before getting the door. There are two boys behind a sweaty and teary MaMbotho. I take a breath.
“Ma?” I called out.
“Please…help my children. Mncedisi is being attacked by the boys from uMphesheya…” she reports.
“What?” I’m trying to figure out if how old is Mncedisi again.
“Please, hurry. They will kill him. Please, my son. Go and help your brother!” she is never the begging type.
“Where is he exactly?” I ask already tucking in my gun.
I fight not with other weapons as the crippled man I am. I take the easy way out.
“The boys will take you!” she is sobbing.
“Go inside and lock the door. Don’t open for anyone,” I tell her.
“Boys get in the car,” they are lucky Zakes’ car is still here otherwise I’d take the whole year to get there.

The drive to the train station where the boys directed me is a bit far but I manage to get there in time. Mncedisi is in trouble indeed, caught up in a fight in a nearby village.
I grab my crutch and quietly move through the night. The moonlight shows me the way. Each step feels determined, even with my crutches, as I head towards the commotion.

As I get closer, I see the chaos – people fighting, shouting, and everything in a mess. My brother is right in the middle of it. I have to do something.

I push through the crowd with my crutches, surprising everyone. “Stop!” I shout, and for a moment, everything paused. My brothers look at me, confused. It is not only Mncedisi who’s here, but Njongo too. I’m disappointed in Mncedisi for letting his younger brother get into such fights.

“Get in the car!” Blood is thicker than anger. Slowly, they walk to the car.
I throw a death stare at their opponent before turning around to the car.
This is the night that is supposed to change things. My crutch became a symbol of standing up against senseless violence. Despite our differences, we found a way to come together. I became a kind of unexpected hero, showing that family matters more than old grudges. But I know, it is just a matter of hours before they forget everything that’s just happened.
The drive home is quiet with Njongo clearing a throat persistently on the passenger seat. Mncedisi marches out as soon as I park the car. Njongo remains in.
“I’m sorry, Bhuti…” he is one humble man in the making.
“Go to sleep. You have school tomorrow!” I dismiss him.
He nods and walks out. I pull out my vibrating cell phone and throw a wondering eye as Nomhle’s name flashes on the screen.
“Hlehle?” I answer.
“Menziwa…help I…have done something. Please, help me!” she releases a muffled sob.
I start the car and drive out again, “Please, calm down. I’m own my way, okay?” I try to calm her down.
She panicking. It doesn’t take long before I park the car in front of her house. There’s no fencing which made things easier in this instant. I turn off the lights and rush inside. The light is on in her room.
I slightly knock on the slightly open door. There’s no answer so I just push myself in while holding a gun. I’m greeted by a lifeless body of an old man in a pool of blood. There’s a knife on his throat. I swallow down a lot of emotion. I look around the room. It is messy. One can easily tell there was a commotion. I see Nomhle crouched on the corner like a gold fish or a puppy. She sniffs. I quickly close the door as she runs her way to me. I embrace her hard, but not for long.
“I didn’t mean to kill him. I swear. He wanted to…he wanted to…” she couldn’t say it.
This is her father. He looks down at him again and notice he had his belt unbuckled. It gave him the answers he needed.
“Where is your brother?” he asked quietly.
“The other room,” she tells me.
“Okay. I think he’s dead…” I conclude.
“No…he can’t be dead. I’m not a murderer,” she says.
“We have to go bury him…” I check the time.
“What? No. We have to call an ambulance!” she looks back at him.
“Nomhle, he is dead. You can’t risk having anyone knowing about this because you’ll get locked up for it. We will go and bury him,” I wish she could just understand that this is no sin.
He started it.
“Hayi…Menziwa…I-”
“We don’t have a choice. We are burying the body. Now go get a shovel and help me pull his body to the car so we will leave. At four o’clock we must be coming back!” I command.
She swallows hard before walking out to get the shovel.

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𝕭𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖘

—“Take care of my eyes,” I implored, a poignant farewell that rippled with the regret of irreversible choices.

𝐒𝐧𝐲𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬

In the quietude of our small town, where the dusty streets held the imprints of countless dreams and the whispers of my name spoke of humble endeavours, I, Menziwa, traversed a life intricately woven with threads of hardship and unexpected love. The sun would cast its golden glow upon the cobbled paths, revealing not only the wear and tear on my shoes but also the story etched in every step I took.

My disability, a companion from birth, manifested in a distinct limp that marked my daily pilgrimage through the town’s narrow thoroughfares. It was an unwelcome badge of distinction, announcing to the world the struggles that accompanied my existence. The townsfolk knew me as the shoemaker, a man of meagre means but boundless resilience.

In the humble abode where I crafted shoes from the worn-out leather of others, my hands danced with a grace born of necessity. The echoes of tapping hammers and the scent of polish filled the air, becoming the symphony and fragrance of my meagre livelihood. It was within these walls that the stage was set for a tale that would transcend the boundaries of ordinary existence.

Nomhle, a name intertwined with my childhood memories, represented the first act in this drama of love and entanglements. She was not merely a friend; our connection ran deeper, like the roots of an ancient tree anchored in shared experiences and unspoken emotions. Nomhle was a presence that lingered in the background, a part of the fabric of my life.

Then, like a gust of wind sweeping through the stagnant air of routine, the blind princess, Elamlelo entered my world. Her name, a whispered promise of royalty and mystery, echoed through the town. She couldn't see the worn shoes I meticulously crafted, nor the pronounced limp that defined my gait. In her darkness, she found a light – a connection with me that transcended appearances.

Love, like an uninvited guest, tiptoed into our hearts, blooming in the quiet corners of our interactions. The blind princess and I became entangled in a romance that defied the boundaries of our disparate worlds. Her affliction, a veil that shielded her from societal judgments, allowed a love to blossom, a love unburdened by the superficial constraints of physical appearances. Nomhle couldn’t take it all in. I was distant. I had abandoned her and threw her far into the forgotten part of my burdens and spheres of life. I was in love, deeply in love. She chose to be an enemy of progress, perhaps it was because of desperation. I never understood why the sudden change of character from her. She became a total villain in my own love story. Even so, my love for Elam was real and unstoppable. She was like a bone of my bones. The only woman I had ever loved and received love back from. She could not see my imperfections. I had nothing to worry about. We came out stronger than ever.

But life, as I would soon come to realize, has a cruel way of testing the endurance of love. Faced with the opportunity to give her the gift of sight, I made a choice that would reshape the contours of our story. A choice born from a depth of love that surpassed even my own understanding – I sacrificed my eyesight to grant her vision.

In the darkness that followed, my world became a canvas devoid of colours, shapes, and faces. The sacrifice was profound, and the weight of my decision pressed upon me like a relentless storm. The blind princess, now gifted with sight, was she going to love nor like the man I was? I nervously awaited her to come by and see me. Seeds of doubts were all over my head as I kept wondering if she were to like the sight of me. A crippled man who mended shoes and played a guitar for a living?

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The Man In Black
Epilogue

A week later on a Saturday morning, Tony stretched her arms and looked up at Jazz. He smiled as she captured her with her bug-eyes. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead. She blushed.
“Yho, it is already the next morning! The sun is up,” she said, rubbing her eyes.
The door was slightly opened just the way she liked it. She was glad she could trust Jazz with that. The windows were open as well.
“Mhm, I brought you breakfast!” he pointed at the peeled and cut fruits on a bowl.
She smiled and grabbed the bowl.
“There’s too much Avocados,” she didn’t really like it.
“The baby likes it,” he told her.
She giggled and looked up at her, so amused.
“I am carrying the baby,” she had to remind him now and then.
“I know that, but I am the one who knows how he feels like…” he argued.
Today, he was not in a good mood. She could tell.
“By having signs and cravings you already carry your head up high? Hayi, inene!” she adjusted herself in bed.
“You think this is easy on me? Tony I am literally feeling like a woman from time to time. It is not nice!” he whispered, which was literally raising his voice according to her.
“Baby…” she had to be calm.
He yanked the blanket away and marched to the bathroom. Tony shrugged and had her fruit salad. He took his time in there and got dressed.
“I have to be in lounge. MaDlamini sent for me,” he reported.
“Okay…” she waited for his footsteps to disappear.
She slipped into laughter and got off bed. She picked up her cell phone and called Zodidi.

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Vuyo who was sent early in the morning to pass a message to the Tshawe’s passed by Zodidi’s house on his way back. Zodidi walked up the road to him. They worked out and one thing led to another until…Tony called numerous times buzzing Zodidi’s phone.
“Aww…Vuyo!” she moaned.
She tried to locate her phone while Vuyo was pumping on top of her. Their breaths hitched and this was supposed to be a quickie. They are just besides the road.
“Hello?” Tony shouted from the other side.
Zodidi swallowed and held on the roof of the car.
“Ah, Jesus Christ!” she closed her eyes for a moment.
“Just turn it off!” Vuyo hissed feeling himself getting there.
“Aww, Vuyo slow down…I need to get this—aww!” she screamed as he went down on her.
He latched on her cl****is.
“Tony…Tony I can’t…Lord drop it!” she moaned some more.
“Oh, wrong timing…sorry!” Tony awkwardly said on the other side.
She then hung up leaving Zodidi trembling and crying as he went back up. May was right, she had chosen a dangerous brother.
“Yeses, mhm! Yerrr…umnandi kodwa MaTogu!” he growled as he stilled deep inside her.
She closed her eyes feeling his seed filling her up so early in the morning. She opened her eyes as he collapsed on top of her. He slowly slid out and pulled out some towels from the car compartment. He cleaned her up and himself.
“What are so many towels doing in your car?” she suspiciously looked at him.
“I was buying them for the car wash. They're all new,” he pulled down her dress and sat next to her.
“I need to go back. My cousins are probably gossiping about me now. There’s still a lot to do,” she told him.
She fixed her head wrap.
He smiled at her and nodded.
“You look beautiful,” he ran his finger down her weave.
She blushed. He never skipped a day or hours without complementing her. He loved everything about her.
“In a few weeks it will be Tony cooking for your in laws,” he told her.
“Are you really serious about this?” she nervously asked.
He chuckled.
“I don’t make empty promises. I told you that I love you and I want to make an honest woman out of you,” he told her.
She heaved a sigh and nodded.
“I will have to talk to my Dad first. He hasn’t said anything since that day at the hospital,” she told him.
“Do it today after Tony’s negotiations. He will be very happy and approachable by then,” he advised.
She giggled.
“Wena you must be May’s son,” she joked.
He laughed.
“How is she doing?” he was asking about the chest pains she must be experiencing now that Tony’s lobola negotiations were being finalized.
She laughed.
“Not very well, but surprisingly enough…she’s been monitoring everything like she would do to me. Speaking of which, I need to oversee everything. I know my mother…a day never goes by with no plan up her sleeves,” she told him.
He held her hand tightly.
“I hear you. Thank you for doing this. My brother really needs to do this for his sake and the clans’ sake,” he said.
They kissed goodbye and Zodidi walked back home. She tried getting back to Tony but she was not answering. She shrugged.
“Maybe she’s on the way…” she spoke to herself.

▪︎
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Tony placed her hands on her waist as Jazz looked at her for an answer.
“MaDlamini wants to see me? For what?” she hissed.
“I don’t know. She just wants to talk,” he was not making any sense.
“Yoh, hayi ke ngoku!” she exclaimed and wore her shoes.
“MaDlamini likes you. I’m sure she won’t scold you. She sounded happy and asked to talk to you,” he shrugged.
She sat in bed and took a breath. She felt her head heating up.
“Fine…let her in but if she dares to shout at me. AndinaMama mna,” she warned.
He nodded and walked out slightly chuckling. MaDlamini walked in with a beaded purple and white nice doek at hand.
“MamTshawe…how are you?” she sat next to her.
She was warmly smiling at her. She had always loved her from the beginning as her designer.
“I’m good. Thanks and how are you, Ma?” she smiled back with her eyes on the floor.
MaDlamini smiled and held her hand.
“I’m good. You came to visit my son?” she didn’t get how that was a question.
“I was just leaving,” she whispered shyly.
“And you were going to leave without greeting me?” she was enjoying torturing her.
“I’m sorry Ma,” she whispered again.
MaDlamini let out her famous asthmatic laughter.
“Hayi, no problem. You really love my son, don’t you?” she carefully watched her as her skin glowed like sunrise.
“Ahem!” she played with her fingers and nodded.
MaDlamini laughed again and Tony couldn't help but crack a smile, shyly so. Her laughter was contagious.
“Okay…don’t be shy. He also does this whenever you’re not around. Checks his phone even on a dinner table. Wear this for me,” she handed her a doek.
Tony hesitantly took it and wrapped it up nicely up on her head. MaDlamini smiled.
“Who taught you how to wrap up a doek?” she asked, impressed.
“My mother,” she looked at herself in the mirror.
She looked so much like her with a head wrap on.
“You do it very well. You look so beautiful,” MaDlamini rubbed her cheeks. “Now come with me to the big hut…”
Tony parted her lips and closed them. She wanted to ask, but she stood up and followed her instead. They went out of Jazz’s rondavel and walked to the other one. MaDlamini walked in first and she followed.
“Inzwi!” Dabula called for silence as they settled down.
She captured an image of men sitting on the opposite side. She looked down at the floor.
“You asked to see Malizole’s guest. Here she is,” MaDlamini said to them.
"She is beautiful!" Someone exclaimed.
Jazz walked in and sat down with the old men. Tony stole a glance at him. He was smiling a bit as he stared at her. She felt her chest going up and down as her heart wanted to jump out.
“Ntombazana…what’s your name?” Dabula asked, cleaning his wooden inhaler.
“T…Tony…I am Tony Tshefu, Tata…” she whispered but she was audible enough.
“I see, your father is Tshawe far in Willow vale?” he asked.
She slightly nodded. This was very embarrassing. Now they knew that she traveled all the way to his village just for a night.
“Yes, father!” she hissed.
“Uzokwenza ntoni apha?” he asked if what was she doing there.
“Ahem!” Jazz cleared a throat to say something.
Dabula held his arm so he’d go quiet.
“What are you doing here?” he asked again.
“I…I…I came to see Bhut’ Nyelenzi,” she whispered.
“Is he sick?” Dabula asked.
The old men fell into a deep chuckle. Jazz let out a side smile and rubbed his face. Tony kept quiet.
“Does Tshawe know that you're here to see Malizole?” he questioned.
“Hayi, Tata!” she shook her head off.
She let a tear fall and sniffed. Jazz looked at Dabula. It was no longer funny now.
“Do you know that your father can come here anytime and charge us if he finds you here?” Dabula went on.
“Malume!” Jazz blurted out.
He couldn’t take it anymore. Dabula sighed and exchanged mischievous stares with the others. They were still amused.
“We are going to your father’s house then. We will go there and pay your dowry money!” he told her.
She flickered her eyes up and looked at them. She quickly dropped it again. They agreed to get married in three months time. She was still enjoying her engagement…well she was not ready.
“Now your uncles will come and talk to you here. And your mother will bring you clothes to wear because it seems as though you love it here. We will let you stay,” Dabula said.
MaDlamini pulled her to her chest and brushed her back.
“Shh, don’t cry kaloku makoti. You are the one who over slept till the sun was up. We have no choice!” she told her.
“I think we are done here. Let’s go,” Dabula took his men with him.
Jazz remained behind and took his chair next to Tony. MaDlamini walked out to give them some space. She held onto his knee and wiped her tears.
“I’m sorry MaSikhomo,” he apologized.
“They ambushed me, Jazz!” she looked up at him.
He blinked once and lodged a long stare into her eyes. He held her hand.
“MaNgconde, I know that I agreed that we will get married in three months to come, but…I can’t wait anymore. I love you. We’ve been through a lot and our ancestors shed light for us. They protected us. The little we can do is get married and free ourselves from grief. Ndiyakucela MaNgconde, MamTshawe, give me your hand in marriage!” he pleaded with her.
She swallowed.
“Does my father know?” she asked.
“He does. They are expecting us at eleven today,” he said.
“I see,” she whispered.
There was nothing left to say. She was getting married.
“You are the only woman for me, Tony. My love for you is spiritual at some point. You make me want to be a better person. You challenge me to become the best version of myself. Most importantly, you bring a smile to the little boy within me. You know, this other day, my younger brother found me smiling alone nje. And he said, ‘itheni ingathi le medi ikwenza ntem-ntem nje bhuti?’ I wanted to give him a good hiding for the talk but I realized he is right. I’m a new man,” he was admitting that she had turned him into a softie and aloving man.
She giggled.
“I’m glad to hear that. I also love you so much. I know maybe I don’t show it the way you expect me to. Or I don’t say it everytime, but ndiyakuthanda. I just don’t know how to tell you sometimes because I feel that words alone are not enough. Honestly, I don’t know where I’d be if you were not here with me. You make me feel safe and loved. My father was supposed to be my first love but you jumped in and stole his seat. I was cool with that, but when you stole my pain away…I’m left feeling so much indebted to you for life. I’m grateful to my ancestors as well for gifting me with a man like you…I love you so much that it hurts Bhut’ Malizole,” she sniffed.
He took out his well ironed baby blue handkerchief and handed it to her. She took it and rubbed her eyes.
“Then let’s do life. I am a traditional man, very simple and straightforward. I need you to know that when we get to our home, I am not the head of the house. I am not a provider. Our home is not structured like a human body, but this rondavel. You see that pole on the middle of the room?” he pointed at the old black pole coming down from the porch of the roof.
“I see it,” she nodded.
“It is called intsika. A pillar of this whole rondavel. That’s you…you’re going to be a pillar of my home and I will come as a support structure like the small poles up there in the roofing. I am not vowing to be, but I am made to be a protector of our home. Everything that we do, we do together. MaNgconde we talk about things. We don’t have specific roles for who and who but we do what we can to meet each other halfway. This means any role we play in our home interrelates with each other. That’s an African home, a home that built up to be this man you're marrying. Is there anything you feel like you do not understand?” he looked down at her.
She shook her head off.
“Good. My family will now be your family and your family will be mine. We will be one. I know you are a respectful, kind, caring and loving woman. I will not talk to you about that one. I will leave you now to get ready for the day. Ndiyakuthanda MaNgconde,” he watched her blush.
He held her chin up and leaned over, kissing her lips briefly. He threw one fat kiss on her forehead before he walked out. She blushed and casted her eyes to the floor. He had stolen all of her insecurities. She rubbed her tummy and looked at it as flat as it was.
“Papa is a good man. He is going to be there and take care of you. Are you proud of Mama? She chose a good father for you. You will go to a private school, speak big English and eat cheese day in, day out. Even when I leave you one day to the spiritual world you will have his cattle, big house, money and everything. He loves you!” she whispered as if the baby was already here.

▪︎
▪︎
Five years later, Tony walked into the lounge and threw herself on the couch, then rubbed her big stomach. She smiled at her first born, Litha who was drawing on his book with Jazz sitting next to him working on his laptop. He looked up at her and smiled.
“Baby…where are you going?” he placed his laptop away.
“Yaphi mama?” Litha also chirped in, curiously.
Tony giggled and took a breath.
“Zodidi asked me to go and see her mother. She is busy at the Chisanyama since Vuyo is out of town this week,” she made puppy eyes at Jazz.
“But she knows that you can’t be going around in your condition,” he moved to sit next to her.
“I know baby. But we have to help. The nurses get bored easily if she doesn’t eat now, she will be starved the whole day,” she begged.
“Hayi, I don’t like this one bit. Where is Litha’s grandfather?” he softly brushed her tummy.
“He is a newly wed…” they both slipped into laughter. “It feels weird to even saying it, but Papa is with his wife. MaShabalala and May are petrol and water,” she added.
Jazz took a breath and looked at Litha.
“Nguni…” he softly rubbed the boy’s head.
“Nzotho,” the boy flickered his eyes to his father.
He looked so much like Tony, but very dark in complexion like his father. The big eyes, small lips and soft black hair was from the mother. Tony was so proud!
“Do you want to go see Makhulu?” he asked.
“Makhulu May?” for some weird reason, the boy liked the woman.
And May liked him back even when he was born, she was elated.
“No, MaDlamini…” Jazz didn’t like this relationship between his boy and an old witch.
Litha shook his head off.
“I want to see Makhulu May today,” the boy said.
Tony took a breath and clapped once. Jazz placed his hands on his waist. They both knew he was going to cry for the whole day for her.
“This is a problem!” Jazz hissed and slipped into his sandals. “We are all going. I will drive!” he grabbed the car keys, grumpy.
Litha flashed a smile and closed his book. He attempted to climb the coffee table so he will jump off like a wrestler, but Jazz threw a corner of a murderous stare. Litha turned grey and slowly got off his leg.
“Hayi, Bhut’ Mali what do you do to my child when I’m not home?” Tony asked, amused.
“Nothing. He’s too hyper nje. I don’t know where he takes the energy from…” he held his hand as they walked out.
Tony slipped into a giggle.
“Hayi kodwa ade abegray umntwana umjongile nje qha?” she wanted to know what the trick was to get Litha to turn grey, then do the right thing.
For her, dealing with Litha needed a creative, innovative, patient, hardworking and an observant person.
“He knows,” Jazz chuckled. “Nguni we are going to Town now. Please Nyelenzi buckle up your seat belt. When we come back I will buy you bananas,” he promised.
“And you will buy ice cream when Mama is at work tomorrow? I will not tell her anything,” he jumped into the car.
Jazz rubbed his forehead and settled in his seat.
“Hayi shame!” he murmured.
Tony giggled.
“Every night when he doesn’t want to go sleep, you will stay with him while I got to sleep peacefully. Andithi mna I am bad parent wena you’re a cool Dad that buys ice-cream. Sharp ke my love!” she laid back on the front seat.
“No, baby. It’s not like that…”
“Don’t explain. All I am saying is, you will stay up all night entertaining him until he falls asleep while I sleep,” she smiled sweetly at him.
He blinked and started the car. The drive to the hospital was filled with laughter and giggles as Litha was telling them his odd stories. Made up stories. They both didn’t know who their boy took after for being so much alive and talkative.
“We are here,” Jazz softly kissed his wife’s face.
Litha got off and got his mother’s door. Tony smiled at Jazz and then at Litha. She stepped out carefully.
"Thank you, boyza kaMama!" she kissed his cheek.
Litha brushed her mother’s stomach and smiled.
“Luvo says there is a baby here,” he started.
Jazz locked the car and chuckled.
“Hayi, I don’t know. We will see,” Tony said.
“We will see her next week Friday at night. It will be my little sister coming,” he said.
The two frowned looking at each other. Jazz cleared a throat and held Tony’s hand.
“Where did you get that boyza?” she asked.
“Mama look…the car looks like uncles car but the colour is different,” Litha was no prisoner under interrogation to be dwelling in the same subject again and again.
Tony sighed and warily looked at Jazz.
“Can we talk about it later? You shouldn’t worry so much,” he held her hand as they walked down the passage.
“This is not the first time he predicts things. What if he…” she blinked and shook her head.
Jazz remained silent. He could see himself in the boy. They watched as Litha walked into May’s door. He had not visited him since she was hospitalized. They exchanged glances.
“I know, but it won’t be as severe as it was to me. We will support him and pave the way for him. He’ll be fine,” Jazz wiped off the worry on Tony’s face.
They walked inside and May’s eyes lit up as she saw the boy. Litha stood next to her bed and held her hand excitedly.
“Makhulu!” he greeted her.
May who now hardly could lift a finger touched the boys hands and smiled faintly.
“Khehle…molweni ninani! AmaNzotho amahle azondibona? Iyhoo!” May spoke in a soft tone as she caressed the boy’s cheeks.
Litha giggled and smiled shyly at some point. May looked up at the two. Jazz didn’t like being there. Hospitals and jails were not a favourite spot for him.
“You are here,” she said.
“Zodidi is taking care of the Chisanyama. She asked me to come and bring you food,” Tony took out a lunch box.
“Thank you,” May nodded.
Jazz pulled a chair and sat down. Litha went to climb and swing on his knees legs. He shook his head and braced himself for it, Tony chuckled catching him in the action.
“Ukuzala kukuzolula,” having kids is relieving yourself, May remarked.
They all laughed.
“Hayi not with the likes of Litha. Hayi shame, I can’t wait for schools to be reopened,” Jazz complained.
“The other one is on the way…you were too quick to complain!” May said.
Tony fed her and softly wiped face after she was done. She was behaving today with no funny comments on the food.
“Thank you. Food from home is better than these dry cornflakes and uncooked eggs they serve here. A plate with iThukela river flooding because kaloku everything they cook has gravy. Rice has got gravy looking like discarge, pumkin has it's own gravy looking like an old hag's urine, chicken has gravy looking like a yeast infection..."
"Qamata!" Jazz exclaimed with an annoyed stare.
It was a good thing that Litha was always occupied.
May sighed.
"I will ask for a form to fill in and state that I was not consuming their food. Then they will give you cash back. You pay a lot of money for that nonsense!” she coughed hard.
She was on her last stage of cancer. Laying there and waiting for an angel of death to come to her aid.
“Haa, aunty!” Tony laughed. She shook some guava juice and opened it for her to drink.
“What is this?” she sneered with furrowed eye brows.
“Juice. 100% guava!” Tony told her.
May shook her head off.
“I don’t want that one. I told Zodidi to change it. It smells like a rotten egg of an ostrich!” she had started.
Tony looked at Jazz and they sighed.
“Kanti Aunty how do you know how an egg of an ostrich smells like when rotten?” she couldn’t help it but laugh.
May remained quiet. She had done a lot of things in this life. She didn’t like answering these questions for they were going to open up old wounds.
“Is that an orange juice?” she asked instead.
“You also don’t like it?” Tony asked with widened eyes.
“No. It is fine. I will drink it,” she gave in.
She drank it and drank her pills with a glass of water.
“Bhut’ Nyelenzi bought you some fruits as well. I will drop it to Sister Nobantu. Please, don’t give her any problems!” Tony gave a strict order.
“She is a good girl. It’s Busiswa that I do not like!” May said.
“Why?” Tony curiously asked.
“I saw her eyeing my son in law,” she reported.
Tony frowned and huffed looking at Jazz.
“Who? My husband?” she was ready for a fight.
With the baby she was carrying, she was the one with hormonal mood swings.
“No. Malizole hardly comes here. This thug Zodidi chose for herself,” May still didn’t really like the man.
They silently laughed.
“Bhut’ Vuyo?” Tony asked.
“Heke! Vuyolwethu…I saw that nurse eying him. I was not surprised though. Nurses and teachers are very good at picking bad partners. I still don’t know where I went wrong with Zodidi because if it was not for me she would not be a lawyer today. She still went and chose a man with a criminal record. To make things worse, she made a father out of him!” she spoke her mind.
“Let her not hear you say that. She will turn off these machines,” Tony joked.
May coughed.
“It is the truth. But I must say, that boy proved me wrong. I can tell my daughter is happy. I hear their giggles before they enter here when they are visiting. Maybe he sings her songs from prison. And my granddaughter had to look exactly like him, but I can tell from her eyes that she will be nothing like him. That girl took after me, she will be intelligent and pop-pop!” May said.
Tony laughed and packed her Café tins.
“One of these day I will have to thank you for also teaching me how to be pop-pop! I chose a good husband and a great career that suits him. I also know how to keep my house together,” it seemed a person’s career went with their partners.
May smiled at her and held her hand.
“It’s a gut that you got from your mother. Oh Carol, she was just like you. A fighter even beyond her grave. I pray that you forgive me one day…even when I’m gone,” she whispered.
Tony smiled.
“I forgave you Aunty…I really did,” she whispered.
May closed her eyes and tightly held her hands. She kissed them.
“Thank you!” she whispered back.

▪︎
▪︎
Later on the day, Zodidi walked into Tony’s house. Vuyo who had to urgently take a flight back home sat next to her. He was carrying his little princess in his arms. Jazz walked in with Litha on his back. Tony also walked out from the kitchen.
“What is it?” Tony asked as she noticed her sister had swollen eyes.
Zodidi looked up at her and parted her lips. She went quiet again. Vuyo held her hand tightly.
“Mama is gone,” she whispered.
Tony slowly sat down. Jazz sat next to her.
“But she was fine when I left,” she enquired.
“She was putting up a front. She left a message with Nobantu. She said she does not want a big funeral. Only family members and if you’d agree, please…place her next to Carol’s grave. She also said that there is grave soil that she has casted a spell on. It is under her bed at home in a vase. She said we should take note of what Litha randomly says. He will tell us the solution to untie the spell,” she told her.
Tony looked at Litha who was now asleep on Jazz’s lap.
“I see…” she whispered.
“I’m sorry Tony…” Zodidi deeply apologized for her mother’s evil deeds.
“It’s okay. It was not your fault… we will fix it,” Jazz held Tony's hand.
Tony nodded.
“So, when are when is the diva's funeral?” Tony asked.
Zodidi slightly giggled.
“I will call my father to contact everyone closer to her. She literally counted the people she wanted on the day,” Zodidi said.
“Yhoo, I can already imagine her saying… ‘I don’t want the whole village loudly gobbling and chewing my cookies of my insurance money. Invite a few people and celebrities because I built this country. I made Mzeke-zeke who he is today!’” Vuyo mimicked her voice.
They all laughed even though someone was dead.
Tony looked at Jazz tearfully. He sat up straight alarmed.
"Baby what is it?" he wiped her tears.
"I want fried water!" she was already in hiccups.
Jazz blinked and looked at others. They all looked away.
"Baby...fried water how?" he did not want to laugh.
"Fried water. Put oil on a pan and fry water!" she
told him.
He thoughtfully scratched his nose and nodded.
"Fried water?" he stood up still looking at her.
She couldn't stomach her laughter. They joined in and laughed .
"Pheww!" Jazz took a breath of relief.

♡The very end!♡