ZIBULO

CHAPTER 1

A sunny Sunday his mother described; the

sun was blazing hot, down the river the
cattle grazed with calves tagging behind
them delightfully. The king, Menzi KaDunga,
summoned an urgent meeting at the royal
house. His mother, Nomalanga MaMngoma
Dunga, was among those who were
wondering what the emergency was
regardless of her position as the only wife to
the king. It was just a matter of time before
she discovered that her marriage was the
subject of the day.
“I have called this meeting to announce the
dissolution of my marriage with MaMngoma,”
Menzi KaDunga, the king of the Mathonsi
tribe said.
MaMngoma was shocked as the rest of the
royal house. Things were okay between
them, or so she thought. But it turned out the
king was done, when questioned by his
sisters about his abrupt decision he stated
the obvious reasons. MaMngoma’s inability
to fall pregnant; it had been two years and
there was still no heir.
“But my brother, if MaMngoma leaves the
royal house there will be wife. As the king
already knows, he cannot be without a wife,”
Balungile KaDunga, his eldest sister, said
with concern.
“That will be sorted before this week ends.
The heir of the Dungas is on the way.”
There were gasps…so much disbelief.
He explained, “There’s a woman I met two
months ago coming from the council’s
meeting. She’s from the Buthelezi clan and it
has been brought to my attention that she’s
now carrying my seed. As you all know where
I stand as far as the polygamy is concerned,
MaMngoma has to go. I will not demand my
lobola back even though she’s barren who
failed to fulfill her duties as a wife, I will
spare her, she can go home with everything
that belongs to her.”
MaMngoma was crying, it felt like her world
was falling apart. And it did fall apart,
because an hour later one of the royal
servants arrived with a donkey and asked
her to bring everything that belonged to her
to be loaded into the cart. Back in the days
nothing was shameful as being a woman who
failed in marriage, MaMngoma was crying all
the way to Mpemane.

The Mngomas weren’t pleased to learn that

she’d been kicked out of the royal house,
they blamed her for not being able to bear
children for the king. More than anything
they were scared of losing everything they
received as her bride price. Mngoma, her
father, erected a shack below the homestead
and located her there with just two chickens
and one goat.
A week passed by, the following Sunday was
different from the previous one. It was
raining heavily, there was a strong gusty
wind, the thunder was roaring and flashing
eye-blinding lightning. Nomalanga was alone
in her shack with a bowl of condensed goat
milk and pap in front of her. A sharp pain
throbbed at the side of her stomach, she
looked for the pain-relieving powder in her
bag and felt something running between her
legs. It was water breaking- the rupture of
membranes in the sac. The pain persisted,
she was still trying to figure out what was
really going on. Only a few minutes passed
before she felt something dropping and
sitting on her pelvic. Her legs couldn’t move,
she couldn’t scream for help because nobody
would’ve heard her. A human being was
coming, she didn’t know and at that point
she wasn’t even sure a baby was what she
needed, but she had to make sure the
innocent life was brought.
She needed to figure it out; being a woman
giving birth and a nurse simultaneously.

MaMkhize came to her shack in the morning

to check why she was still sleeping and not
slaving in the maize field as
umabuyemendweni that she was. She found
Nomalanga soaked in blood with an infant
wrapped in her brown scarf and laid on a
nest of grass like a hatchling.
“Nomalanga whose baby is this?”
“This is my son. As you can see Ma, I gave
birth last night during the thunderstorm.”
“Where is the placenta?”
Nomalanga took the bucket she had placed
the plastic bag containing the placenta in
and it was empty, the placenta was gone.
“Ma I swear it was right here when I slept,”
she desperately needed her mother to
believe her.
MaMkhize shook her head in disbelief.
“Nomalanga where did you get this baby?”
“It’s mine Ma,” she said.
MaMkhize walked out and called village
women to come and witness what she was
seeing. A woman who stole the baby!
Nomalanga was still in pain, yet she had to
lie on the floor with her legs up and show
village woman proof of her swollen
womanhood.

“They didn’t believe you were mine,” his

mother would tell him with a smile on her
face. She always had a bright spark in her
eyes like nothing else in the world mattered
more than the life she brought.
She waited until her son was seven days old
before she returned to the royal house with
the heir. His umbilical cord had fallen, but
just like the placenta, it had disappeared too.
All Nomalanga’s bags were packed, she was
happy and looking forward to uniting the king
with his first son. It was what he had always
wanted.
One of the royal servants saw her coming
with a little baby and alerted the family. The
king ordered for her to be kept at the gate
and not allowed inside the premises.
She explained to Menzi KaDunga and the rest
of the royal house. She also didn’t know she
was pregnant but she had no doubt about
the paternity of the child.
But Balungile told everyone who cared to
listen that she had given birth five times in
her life and not even once had she failed to
notice the changes in her body and just saw
the baby popping out. Between Nomalanga
and her, it was easy for the king to believe
the side of the woman he shared a womb
with. It was concluded that the baby was not
a Dunga, and for trying to deceive the royal
house Mngoma was fined a cow. That
brought a new side to Nomalanga’s
relationship with her father. She had nobody
other than her son. She knew her son was
royalty; he was the heir of the Dungas. More
than anything, she’d given birth to him
whether people chose to believe that or not,
he was izibulo lakhe.

For the first 13 years of his life he ate eggs

from his mother’s chickens, goat milk and
pap, and wild fruits. At 14 he got a job as a
herdboy in a well-off family in the village,
only then he had his first pair of shoes,
decent clothes and something called body
lotion. If it wasn’t for his mother he would’ve
dropped out of school, but Nomalanga was
adamant that no child of hers would be
uneducated like her.
When he turned 20 news of the king’s death
arrived in Mpemane. His mother had a
decent hunt, a yard full of chicken and goats,
and a sewing machine. She still wanted
Zibulo to be part of the royal house, she said
it was the right he was born with, royalty ran
through his blood. So they attended the
funeral, the scepter was going to be passed
to the next king on the day.
Zibulo was the same height Menzi KaDunga
had been when he was put on throne. He had
taken most of his features too, from the
chiseled jawline to the small eyes that
always looked strained and chestnut skin.

When Zibulo arrived at the funeral Balungile

saw him and saw her brother in him and
started wailing. He stood with his hand
clasped in his mother’s at the cemetery. He
watched the king’s body wrapped in a cow’s
skin going down and he felt nothing for the
man. Just like he didn’t feel anything at his
grandparents’ funerals.
The grey-haired uncle called the next king to
the front to throw the first shovel of soil as a
sign of farewell to King Menzi KaDunga and
recite the royal clan names. The son he got
from his then wife who married him a week
after Nomalanga was kicked out took to the
front, followed by praises.
He picked the shovel of soil, threw it in the
grave and then took the sceptre from the
uncle. Somehow he tripped, falling on his
toes and going to the ground with his face.
He lost the grip of the sceptre, it rolled all the
way to Zibulo’s feet.
His mother described the moment as ubizo
lwegazi. Zibulo picked the sceptre from his
feet; a 52 year old anointed wand that the
first Dunga king won from the battle with the
Mngunis. Zibulo took the shovel and started
dismantling the precious, royal wand. The
commotion began, he spat inside the grave
of his father, took his mother’s hand and left
the commotion behind.
^
^
^
That was a decade and four years ago, time
has passed, life has changed. His mother left
him too soon, before she could reap the
fruits of her womb. But he always tells
himself that she’s with him everywhere he
goes. And he sees that because soon after
her death his life changed in a way he never
thought it would. From two chickens and one
goat to a poultry farm and egg-supplying
contract in one of the biggest supermarket
retailers in the country. A few years ago he
made it to the list of South African black
millionaires. Mgwazeni Mngoma, the
grandfather he hated so much, left behind
ten acres of land in Stellenbosch and he was
the only beneficiary left. Needing the money
and hating his grandfather, he decided to sell
the land to a retired white man who wanted
to start a vineyard. Today he’s a real estate
investor; he buys property to let. He started
using his nickname Mlaba, shortened from
Mlabalaba, for his business profile. Being
izibulo has never been something he carries
with pride because the thing called an ‘heir’
and ‘first son’ brought nothing but pain in his
mother’s life. He will never remove the name
from his ID though because his mother gave
it to him and she only addressed him by it.
There are people who know him as Zibulo
even though most prefer Mlabalaba as it’s
more suitable for a Zulu man with his aura.

Three years ago he moved here, the north

west of Durban, Kloof. Nobody understands
why half of his wardrobe is custom-made,
why he'd never walk barefooted, even for the
fun of it, and why he hates eggs and maas,
and the word "family". Beside his two friends
whom he also keep at the surface level of his
life, he doesn't allow anyone in the vicinity of
his true world. He will never lose people in
his life, simply because he doesn't have
them. He's nobody's anything in this world,
that has been a principle of his life for so
long and it served him well…until her,
Thando Zwane.

Before her he didn’t have any inclination to

be emotionally connected to people, or to
even like them to the extent of opening his
heart for them. He always chose women who
are emotionally distant like him, the ones
dealing with their own demons, who aren’t
clingy or demanding. His ex, Melamina, was
that for him. He was comfortable with her
because she was okay with floating on the
surface level of his life. He was a little hurt
when she decided to break things off in a one
paragraph text but he wasn’t going to give
her that satisfaction. That’s a natural
reaction from a man who experienced his
first rejection at 7 days old. He didn’t have
time to dwell on it because that same
weekend he was unwillingly hosting Khetha’s
girlfriend, Linda, for her birthday. One of the
two people he refers to as friends. If he’s in
the city they hang out together, seal some
new business deals and talk
entrepreneurship. Linda, now an ex-
girlfriend, happened to be a minister’s
daughter. Not only were Khetha’s chances of
smashing the high-profile pussy on the line,
his reputation was on the other side of the
knife too. He had to deliver, pleasing spoilt-
rich children of high-profile figures is part of
being a businessman and expanding your
name.
Khetha was in the UK that month, September
of 2020, but he just had to be the boyfriend
of the year and throw a huge party for his
girlfriend. He asked Zibulo to come through
for him; to host the party in his holiday beach
house in Zinkwazi and make sure his
girlfriend had the best day ever.

So because it was Khethokuhle virtually co-

hosting the party, in the morning Zibulo had
to drive an hour to Zinkwazi to check if Linda
and her friends had a great night and if they
didn’t need anything before they flew back to
Gauteng.
As his car parked his eyes landed on her,
dressed in black pants and tucked oversized
white T-shirt with - TZ CATERING- printed on
the back.
His eyes stayed on her as she made several
trips in and out of the house collecting the
catering material. It wasn’t her beauty that
hypnotized him, neither was it her well-
defined waist and curves. Something in him
just knew that if he got out of the car and
risked having an eye contact with her, his life
wouldn’t have been the same, ever. Because
she was the kind of a woman God only
created once in hundred lifetimes.
He had to sit in the car, behind the tinted
windows, and savor everything she was from
a distance.
From there he was returning back to his
house, tucked away amidst the leafy trees of
Kloof, and he was going to live his life the
only way he was comfortable with- alone. But
what he did was the opposite; he got home,
sat in front of his laptop and googled the TZ
Catering company. Her profile was there,
Thandoluhle Zwane, the owner and self-
trained chef who comes highly
recommended in her industry. He’s never
been a social media person, he’s not exactly
the people’s person, so it never made sense
for him to engage with online people, whom,
at most, are fake as they come. But a few
things that never made sense before that
Sunday started making sense, like creating a
Facebook account with his birth name and no
pictures and sending a DM to a girl he had
only seen once. A girl he knew he couldn’t
pursue from the onset.

It’s been months now, they text frequently,

and for some reasons she trusts him even
without knowing his face. It feels like he’s
known her forever, the urge to see her again
and tell her everything about himself from
his fears to his everyday challenges and
bitter past grows everyday, but his fear of
letting someone in and then losing them
pulls him back from those thoughts. Maybe
this is how far they can go; their story began
in the DMs of Facebook and maybe they
must end there. At least their conversations
will comfort him when it’s time for their paths
to part.
But he needs to see her face one last time,
even if that means throwing an unnecessary
party for his employees and instructing his
assistant to hire TZ Catering. Maybe he can
see her closer this time, not as Zibulo the
Facebook friend she’s learnt to trust so
much, but as the implacable emotionally-
unavailable Mlaba. Maybe in his next life, if
their paths cross again, he’d be able to show
his face and tell her who Zibulo really is…
maybe he’d be fixed by then.
Chapter 2
THANDO ZWANE

“Till Data Do Us Part,”

I read with a suppressed smile, I have
company here, they’ll want to read the whole
thread and fish for every detail about this
‘friendship.’ That’s what you get when you
have sisters who come very close after you.
Ntoko is turning 28 in two weeks, it’s one of
the reasons we are gathered here with a
bubbles and a list of party ideas. It has to be
a day to remember. Sethabile is 27, she’s
culturally adopted- if that’s a word. You know
us Africans, no legal procedures, we just take
our late relatives’ children and raise them as
our own. That’s what my mother did when
her sister died, leaving a 3 year old behind.
I’m almost 30, just seven months away. We
grew up together, raised by both parents,
and attended the same schools. The bond
between us has never broken, even though
we work in different industries and reside in
different parts of Durban. Weekends are
always about sisterhood and annoying one
another.
“That smile! Is it Ray?”
I thought we were all busy, not staring at
what facial expression others are making.
“No Ntoko, Ray is canceled,” I say.
They’re shocked. Why? I did tell them mos,
didn’t I?
“He said something that turned me off and I
canceled him.”
They’re looking at me, judging me. I know
it’s always the case with me; potential dates
always turn me off with little things or end up
not meeting my never-established standards.
Nevertheless Nontokomalo and Sethabile are
the last people to say anything about
relationships. One has been single since the
beginning of time and one changes
boyfriends every month.
“So you’re single-single now?” Setha asks,
with subtle judgment.
“Single and happy!” Funny how we always
emphasize on being happy like happiness
has to be confirmed verbally everytime you
don’t have a man in your life.
“So who are you chatting to?” Ntoko
stretches her neck to peek over my phone.
I turn the screen down. I need to set
boundaries with these kids.
“Are we hiring a DJ?” I ask, sipping my drink
and gracefully ignoring her.
“No DJ, I booked The Faith,” she says.
That’s a gospel group, what business do they
have entertaining at a veterinary technician’s
birthday party? I have already stocked booze
and searched for male strippers on the
internet.
“The Faith?” Setha cocks up her eyebrow.
“Yes, The Faith. Mom and dad will be here
too.”
Then why are we here planning a party if her
28th is just going to be a Sunday service?
What a waste of my time.
“Is the whole church coming?” I ask.
“No, just mom and dad, MaNgubane, Mam’
Zondi, Aunt Hlengi and Lungi from Zamani,
Maka Nhle and…”
“Just say it’s the whole church,” Setha snaps.
All our plans down the drain!
We grew up in a religious home, with
pictures of Jesus lining the four walls, at
some point in my childhood years I thought
he was our uncle who went overseas and
never came back. Adulthood was supposed
to be different, not completely straying from
His teachings, but escaping church girls
vibes.

My phone beeps. I check, it’s an email from

Mlabalaba Properties. Of course I’ve heard of
them, I once catered in one of their beach
houses for the minister’s daughter’s birthday
party. Maybe she’s the one who
recommended me, or the owner was at the
party and he tasted my food- I’m one hell of
a good cook.
“Okay ladies, I have a job next week,” I
announce.
“Really?” Shock on their faces!
“Yes, they didn’t even ask for my rates, the
email comes with a payment offer of 20 000,
just to cater for 15 guests.” It’s more than I
what charge for 20 guests, and the good part
is they want me to come up with the menu
and forward everything I will need to them.”
“So much money just for 15 people?” Ntoko
asks.
They’re shocked, so am I. But my mother is a
prayer warrior, what can I say?
Setha grabs the phone from my hand and
reads the email. Her eyes widen, she gasps
and looks at me.
“This is not R20 000,” she says.
“I saw the money Sethabile, I know numbers,
I passed Maths with 45%. What is she trying
to say? That I’m dumb maybe.
Ntoko looks at the screen turned towards her
and almost chokes on her drink. “Dude, what
the fuck!”
Okay, I need to see that as well. I snatch the
phone back and look at the payment offer.
Yes it’s....no ways! It’s 20 000 of another
currency. Fuckin’ dollars!
“How much is that in Rands?” I ask, now
thinking this could be a prank from one of my
girls.
“You passed Maths with 45%, you know
numbers,” Setha mocks.
I quickly ask Google and I almost faint. Three
hundred thousands something rands just for
cooking for 15 guests?!
I send an email back, asking whoever is
pranking me to grow the fuck up. Imagine
what I’d do with that kind of money. I’d be
disowning both these bitches and moving to
a different city with two cats.

The response I get back is very formal and

signed by Mr Mlaba M himself. This is not a
prank, it’s God speaking directly to his
favourite child.
“Setha pour me a drink,” I say in a rich
accent I didn’t even know I had. Money
changes people, right?
She doesn’t argue, she refills all our glasses.
Why does it taste like a cheap champagne
now?
“Is it real?” Ntoko asks.
“It’s real, dude. They say they didn’t make
any mistake.”
Gasps!
“Tell them I’m a florist, I can do their flowers
for just 1 000 dollars,” Setha says, she’s very
serious.
“But you’re not a florist,” I say giving her one
of my rich-sister looks.
“What’s hard about putting a bunch of
flowers in a vase? Awukahle wena!” She
gulps down her drink.
I’m dead with laughter. Now I have
something to look forward to, other than
Ntoko’s church-party.
We have no further planning to make since
Ntoko decided to invite The Faith and
parents to the party. I see them out as they
leave, now I’m not even interested in their
little shopping, they can go and enjoy
without me. I have bigger things to plan.

My gosh, let me tell Zibulo about my lucky

day.
Me: *Guess who’s catering for the
Mlabalaba Properties party? Meee.*
He takes a moment to respond…
Him: *That’s great…how are the party
plans going?*
I roll my eyes before I type my response.
Me: *No longer a part of it. Ntoko
decided to invite a church choir and the
parents and every church person she
knows.*
Him: *So no more male strippers?* he
inserts laughing emojis.
I’m sure he’s enjoying this. Setha and I have
been looking forward to this party and now
all the enthusiasm is gone. If she wasn’t my
sister I wouldn’t have attended.
I clear the lounge and leave dirty dishes in
the sink, I will see them later. I need to
update my team, I have six young girls that
work with me. Yes, not for me because I’m
not a boss, I get hired and then ask them to
assist me. We need to plan, this is our
biggest job ever. I’m sure there will be other
important people present, and by important I
mean rich, they’re the important ones.
Phone vibrates…
Zibulo acts like a bored man sometimes. He’s
asking if I’ve taken down my Badoo account,
he last advised me to do so after I
complained about men who kept asking me
for sexual favors. Now that he’s reminded me
I will delete it.
I don’t know what it was, the pulling factor,
but I connected to him in a very strange way,
like a friend I’ve known forever.
I’m not the one to answer my DMs, especially
from strangers with no profile pictures. But
his was a long text, accurately paragraphed
with commas in the right places. I asked
what he wanted and he said, “if nothing, at
least friendship nkosazan’ emhlophe.” I’m
not light-skinned but when he addressed me
like that a flight of butterflies swept across
my tummy. I learned to trust him, a name
with no face. He’s always there for me, even
though it’s never physical because we’ve
never met, never voice called or sent each
other’s pictures. Mine are public on Facebook
anyway. He said he’s a businessman, still on
the ground but planning bigger things. He
reads my late-night rantings, responds with
comfort when I’m in fear and advises me
about anything and everything.
When I told him about Ray and I ending
before we even started he never judged me,
he said everything my guts tell me is right. I
know it’s stupid and reckless to just trust a
stranger from Facebook with all your
skeletons and darkest secrets, but everyone
has that person they learn to be vulnerable
with. Some it’s their best friends, siblings or
parents, and mine is Zibulo. A man whose
face and identify I don’t know. Only his
cellphone knows his face, he sits with it
everyday being a friend to die for. Of course
I’m going to hide him from my sisters,
because what explanation does this have?
^
^
^
SATURDAY

I barely slept last night, actually the whole

week. It feels like the day I catered for an
event for the first time. I was worried if
people will like my food, if I didn’t overcook
or forgot certain ingredients in the food. I
worried if a stray of hair didn’t fall into the
pot, or a fly by mistake.
Today I’m the meanest I’ve ever been,
fortunately my girls know me better now, I
panic when I’m under pressure. I just saw
Setha’s boss’ friend driving in. Thank God I
was clever enough to park my car by the
gate, my Mini Cooper would’ve been so
embarrassed between those beasts parked
there. I thought the employees’ party would
have average people like me. But it turns out
even the employees of Mlabalaba Properties
look richer than me.
So far they haven’t returned anything; there
are no complaints. We served starters; baked
feta with sumac and grapes. They have
someone in charge of their drinks, not your
average ciders from Tops, he looks like a
professional mixologist.
A lady comes to the kitchen, she’s wearing
what most of us, second-class citizens, would
pick from the magazine, not a shop. It’s
glittery, not my style, but it looks custom-
made, like only she can fit in it. Gorgeous
wouldn’t be a fitting word, she’s slaying!
“Please come and clear the table,” she says.
Okay, I didn’t know I’d be bossed around by
slayqueens. But I smile and nod. “Consider it
done.”
She turns, sways her hips and walks away.
Zola, one of my girls, mimes pointing a gun
at her head and pulling the trigger. I know
it’s going to be a long day. We are getting a
lot of money for this, we’ll become their
maids if they want us to.

Zola and I go to the balcony where the party

is set up and clear the tables. One plate is
untouched, I look up at the guy sitting on the
chair with his face glued on his tablet.
“Sir, would you like to have something else?”
I ask.
He raises his eyes, I think he’s drunk or
sleepy or tired. His eyes look funny, yet
they’re very sexy.
“Chabo, ngiyabonga,” he says. His voice is
deeper than him. I expected a heavy English
accent.
I don’t take my eyes off him, he’s also
looking at me expectedly, I’m hoping he
would say why he didn’t touch his plate.
“Are you allergic to something?” I ask.
He drops his eyes, looks at his tablet and
ignores the fool. I need to keep reminding
myself where I’m at and who I’m catering for.
“Mlaba,” someone says behind me.
He raises his eyes and looks at him.
He’s the boss…I’m here annoying someone
who’s paying me 2000 dollars. Damn you,
Thando!
I mumble a stupid apology that I’m sure he
didn’t even hear and leave as fast as
possible.

Zola looks at the plate in my hand and

frowns.
“Mlaba, the boss,” I say before she asks.
“Which one is he?”
“Washed Denim, white shirt and navy blazer.
He’s got strange eyes, like he’s going to doze
off at any minute.”
“Why didn’t he eat?” she asks.
“I don’t know Zola, he didn’t say anything,
maybe we need to ask one of his employees
what he likes.” I should’ve asked via email,
before today. I’m so unprofessional, he’s a
millionaire, I’m sure he doesn’t eat what his
employees eat. I’m going to find that glittery-
dress lady and ask her. I know it’s going to
be a mission, she looked a bit bossy.

I bump into a middle-age man and ask for a

minute. He looks humble than Miss Glitz.
“Sir, I’m looking for a lady wearing a red
dress,” I say.
He smiles, “Why? Do you need help?”
Actually…maybe he can help me too.
“Umh, is there anything Mr Mlaba doesn’t
eat?”
He bites his bottom lip and counts something
in his head silently. “Eggs, maas, goat milk
and boiled chicken.”
“Anything else?” I ask.
“That’s all I know. You don’t need to worry
about him, this day is about us,” he says,
smiling.
It did say the party is for the employees, I’m
overreacting for sure. Let me go back and
continue with my job, I’m sure Mr Mlaba will
send if he has any request.
Lunch is better because we are not going to
serve separately. We dish into catering trays,
wrap and take it to them outside. Some are a
bit tipsy and making little nonsensical
demands. Mlaba is sitting with another man
who’s wearing a watch that can feed me and
my sisters and two generations to come.

“Why are you leaving? Who’s going to dish?”

Miss Glitz ask.
Zola and I stop mid-way and look back at
her. We thought this way is more convenient.
“You can dish your plate the way you like it,”
I say. I hope it makes sense, we are not lazy,
it’s professional this way and many caterers
do it like this.
“Please do your jobs ladies,” she says, more
like instruct.
Wow, okay. I can do this for twenty thousand
dollars, right? This is nothing, I grew up with
Sethabile, whom I thought was the most
demanding girl in the world until now.
Zola serves the guys while I serve the
madams. Some are appreciative, they say
thank you. But some are not, like Miss Glitz.
“Your turkey is overcooked. Did we say we
don’t have teeth?” she asks.
Others laugh.
Obviously I miss the joke, I take food
complaints seriously.
“I’m sorry I thought I did it well,” I say.
“Obviously not.” She pushes the plate to her
friend next to her. Now this is dramatic,
turkey is not the only thing on her plate. She
can eat the panzanella salad at least.
She wipes her lips carefully with a serviette
and turns to me.
“Tell me, where did you study culinary?”
“I’m self-taught, I’m an unemployed
pharmacy technician.” I don’t know why I’m
explaining myself and talking about being
unemployed. I’m giving away too much.
I feel someone stopping behind me. His
presence is heavy, maybe because he’s rich.
“Mercy did you confirm if Mdlalose received
the invoice?” he asks, looking at Miss Glitz. I
can’t believe he’s bringing work to a party.
“I will do it just now. I got distracted by this…
mess,” she says directing to the plate; my
food.
I’m offended. I’m hoping Mlaba will speak up
for me, I mean he’s the one who hired me,
he has to defend me. This lady is the only
one complaining and it’s not even in a
civilized manner.
“Make sure you confirm,” he says, turns
around and goes back to his seat.
Now I’m fuming. I want to call out his black
ass, together with this silicone one. But I
won’t, there’s twenty thousand dollars at
stake. Why did I even think he’d defend me?
He’s an elite like them, they’re his people
and making demands and belittling people is
what they do everyday when they’re done
counting their millions.

I need a moment, I just want to breathe and

vent to someone. I try Ntoko, she doesn’t
pick up. Setha tells me to call back after five
minutes.
I log on Facebook and vent to Zibulo. Poor
guy is probably tired if my ranting now,
there’s always something I’m complaining
about everyday.
Me: *Zibulo, you won’t believe what I’m
dealing with here! The ugly boss is one
mean asshole, rich in the bank and
empty in heart. I pray our paths never
cross again. Now I’m just here for the
coin, I will tolerate him and his entitled
people. I hope his snake dies, obviously
uthwele lo. Bloody swine, nemhlathi
yembongolo (long jaws)*

CHAPTER 3
THANDO ZWANE
It turns out everyone that I need right now is
unavailable. Zibulo read the message and
said we will talk later. He must be busy with
his business adventures too, he said he’s
passionate about property, he wants to have
his own apartments that he rent out and
make money. It takes a lot of money, there’s
a lot of hustling waiting for him before he
reaches that stage.
Maybe I can ask Mlaba for an advice; what he
can tell young people who wants to be in this
business. He didn’t look like an easygoing
person, but which rich person is?

I return to the girls and we are preparing the

last course. We’ve been bossed around a lot,
belittled and disrespected by Mlaba’s rich
employees. I feel bad, I should be protecting
my girls. Three of them are in varsity, they
do this as a side hustle, the other two have
ordinary jobs that pay peanuts. For me and
Zola this is our bread. I do this for a living, it
was hard to get clients when I started but my
mother prayed and spread the word through
her church friends. If I didn’t put my hands
where my brains were I’d be still squashed in
my parents’ house waiting for interviews that
were never fruitful.
We are setting up a dessert buffet on the
dinner table, inside the house. This means
someone has to go and inform them that
whenever they’re ready for something sweet
they can step inside the house and snatch
some dessert.
“Do you think Miss Glitz is going to eat this
and risk getting fat?” Zola asks, leaning
towards me. She hates her more than I do.
“Her name is Mercy,” I tell her.
She rolls her eyes, “I’m sure she’s sleeping
with Mlaba. Did you see her swaying her flat
ass in front of him?”
“I bet they fuck in the offices. I’m sure a man
like him uses thirsty girls like her,” I say
moving around to add chocolate pudding in
the parfait bowls.
“I wouldn’t be shocked, she looks like…” Zola
abruptly takes a pause.
I continue, “Maybe that’s why he’s not
married. I didn’t see any band around his
finger. He fucks them and then throws
extravagant parties for them.”
Zola is coughing. I hope she wasn’t stuffing
things into her mouth, I can imagine what
those slayqueens would say.
I’m about to ask if she’s okay when a deep
voice startles me.
“Can I have mine without cookie crumbles?”
My eyes almost pop out. Being caught
gossiping is uncomfortable, but being caught
gossiping about someone you hardly know,
who offered you a job and payment you
normally work ten times to make, is
something else.
Zola comes through for me, I’m struggling to
breathe. “Don’t worry sir, we won’t add
cookie crumbles and we’ll set your dessert
aside,” she says.
“Thank you,” he says and stands still.
I’m about to pee on myself. Why is he not
leaving? I’m standing like a statue, scared to
even breathe.
“Are you busy Miss Zwane?”
I feel a thick drop of sweat rolling down my
spine. I turn around and force my eyes up.
He doesn’t look angry as I expected him to
be.
“I’m…we are setting up the dessert buffet
and then we are going to inform your guests
and…” Oh get it together Thando!
“I’d like us to finalize some details with you,”
he says keeping his gaze intensely on me.
“Now?” I ask.
My heart is racing, I need a moment to come
up with an apology.
“Yes now,” he says.
I look at Zola, she throws a hand cloth to me
and blows out a faint sigh. I know we fucked
up, this maybe the last time we cater for
Mlabalaba Properties or anyone that’s
connected to them.
“I will ask Luh to help me,” she says and
cracks a thin smile at Mlaba.
He’s cold, that’s what I can tell you. He
doesn’t even return her smile, he just turns
to the passage and climbs the stairs.
I’m following him, I haven’t been to the
second floor, I don’t know who’s up there and
what are the details to be discussed are.

The hallway landing on the second floor is a

central to multiple rooms. All doors are
closed. He’s walking through the passages,
I’m following him trying not to think too
much about what he must be thinking about
me.
We step into an open room, two times bigger
than the dining room downstairs. It has mint-
green walls, an oversized pendant that I’m
scared will drop down on my head and kill
me. There’s a rustic table and complimentary
chair pairings nested at the corner.
“You can take a seat,” he says.
He’s standing in front of an integrated
refrigerator that’s blended in the mint-wall,
almost unrecognizable. He comes back with
two cold Strongbow apple ciders.
He opens mine before handing it over and
then sits at the far end of the table.
I still can’t look at him, a drink is just what I
needed.
“I don’t sleep with my employees, Miss
Zwane,” he says.
Heaven is where everybody is going except
me. How can I say such about someone I
don’t even know? I can’t even apologize, I
don’t know how to even start explaining what
got over me to say that.
“Your balance will report before the day
ends. Thank you for your service,” he says.
I drag in a deep breath and force my eyes
up.
“Thanks for the opportunity, Mr Mlaba. Also, I
apologize for the way I spoke about you. I’m
not usually the kind of person who gossip
and make crazy assumptions about people.”
“I bet you aren’t,” he says.
I’m not sure if he really means that.
“So what are the details we are here to
discuss?” I ask.
He frowns. Really, how short is his memory?
“You said you need to discuss some details
with me,” I remind him.
“I just did,” he says.
Maybe I’m stupid, or his understanding of the
word details- in plural- is different. But if
Mlaba says it’s details, then it’s details I
guess.
“Thank you then, I’d like to return back and
help the girls before your employees pull off
their ears.” I’m sure Mercy is already
throwing tantrums downstairs. Nothing is
ever right in her eyes.
He doesn’t say anything, so I leave the half-
drank cider on the table and walk towards
the door.
“Miss Zwane,” he calls.
I stop and look back. There’s something
lifeless about him. I don’t know if it’s the
unreadable emotions in his eyes or his lack
of correct facial expression.
“If it’s not too much, please bring my dessert
here,” he says.
I nod, “I will bring it.”
It looks like there’s more, I wait but he
doesn’t say anything. I take one step forward
and stop again. I want to say something too
but there’s a dead connection between us.
It’s like he doesn’t know how to talk to me
and that’s exactly how I feel too.
“Sir, I have a grievance to express,” I say. I
hope I’m not too much, first I gossiped and
now I’m complaining.
His eyebrow cocks up; he’s waiting for it.
“I know a customer is always right and that’s
fine because customers are the ones who put
bread on our table. But I believe we can still
respect one another regardless of class.”
He nods, “I agree, Miss Zwane.”
“Well, that’s surprising after you stood and
watched your staff mistreating me and my
girls. You dine, eat prawns and drink
expensive wines with those people. They’re
your people, up there in your class and
breathing flavored air. The least you could’ve
done is defend the lower-class catering group
you intentionally hired.”
“I didn’t think a woman like you needs
someone to stand up for her,” he says, his
eyes resting on my legs.
Is my dress too revealing? Too short? Are my
legs dry?
“I don’t need anyone to stand up for me,” I
say, almost defensive.
“Then why are we having this conversation
Miss Zwane?”
Oh to hell with this formal speech!
“I’m Thando,” I say.
A smile teases his lips but he doesn’t let it
crack out.
“Noted,” he says with a nod.
I think I’m angry. No, I’m fuming.
I storm out and head downstairs, if Mercy
dares to breathe one more negative thing
about me and my girls she won’t remember
where the sun rises.

Most of them have come inside, they’re

scattered around the dining room. They’re
drinking, only a few bowls of dessert have
been eaten. I’m not offended because I know
men don’t care about dessert and ladies care
more about their tiny waists than a good
dessert.
I take the bowl Zola prepared for Mlaba and
turn to leave. But someone just had to call
behind me. Who else? Of course the Mercy of
attention.
“That’s mine,” she says.
“No, it’s Mr Mlaba’s, he asked for it without
cookie crumbles,” I say.
“I also want mine without them.”
“Please ask one of the girls to make it.”
“I’m asking you,” she says.
I don’t know if she’s hired or sent to fight
with my peace.
“I’m still busy,” I say.
She chuckles, “Of course, men come first.”
I roll my eyes and walk away. I’m not like
her, I don’t notice men because they have
money. After today Mlaba and I will forget
each other’s faces. Next week I will be
catering for someone else, dealing with
different challenges.

Mister is sitting where I left him with his drink

untouched, he’s staring up with his hands
below his chin. He’s in deep, deep thoughts.
I clear my throat at the door, he snaps out of
his thoughts and sits up straight.
I walk in and put the dessert on the table in
front of him.
“Thank you,” he says, looking at it with zero
craving. I can tell just from the way he’s
looking at it that he doesn’t know why he
wanted it in the first place.
“Enjoy,” I say.
He nods, his eyes still on the dessert.
“Umh, I have a friend who’s into property. I
mean he’d like to venture into it one day. His
name is Zibulo. Is there any advice you can
give him?”
He reaches for the cider and gulps it down. I
hope he’s not the type that doesn’t want to
see others succeed.
“He must venture into it,” he says.
“Is that the advice?” I ask.
His eyebrow cocks up. “Yeah, that’s the
advice.”
Well, I’m glad you’re not an educator.
“I didn’t wish to be an educator Thando,” he
says.
Wow, so I said that loud? I don’t know how
much trouble my mouth is going to put me
into today. Strangely I’m not even the kind of
person who talk too much.
“I’m sorry. I will tell him to venture into it,” I
say with a subtle mock that I’m sure he
picked up.
“So why do you cook?” he asks.
Why am I still standing here?
“Because I can Mlaba and it makes me
money,” I say.
“I’m sure you’d like to be more elaborative,”
he picks the dessert and scoops some into
his mouth.
I’m not elaborating, not after he refused to
give me an advice for Zibulo.
He looks up, “Would you love some?”
That’s his way of dismissing me. I’m standing
here like I want the dessert he’s eating or to
eat him.
“No, thanks,” I say and turn around and
leave.
Before I walk out he calls my name. I don’t
know why my heart skipped a beat, I told him
my name and he’s not the first man to call it.
“Can I have some water?”
Oh wow!
“Of course sir,” I roll my eyes as soon as my
back is turned. I can’t wait to tell my sisters
about these big-bossy somebodies.
I take one step out of the door and his voice
stops me again.
“It’s in the refrigerator here,” he says.
So I have to turn, walk back in and take
water that he could’ve easily gotten for
himself? Phewww.

I open the integrated refrigerator and take

out a sealed bottle of still water. I don’t know
why I feel like he’s staring at me because
when I turn his eyes are somewhere else.
“And put this dessert in the refrigerator,
please.” He pushes the bowl of dessert that
he only ate twice to me.
I roll my eyes; it’s a habit I’ve tried so hard to
get rid of. Everytime I’m displeased I roll my
eyes. He doesn’t say anything, I’ve noted
that he’s not much of a talker.
I close the refrigerator, turn back to face him
and plaster a huge fake smile. “Is there
anything else sir?”
“Where is home Thando?”
From slaving you around for twenty thousand
dollars to asking you personal questions!
“Melville,” I say.
“Are you seeing someone?”
“I’m seeing you in front of me.”
He cracks a brief chuckle, “I guess you are
not. Would you like to take a break and sit
with me for a moment?”
Typical Mr Large-pockets!
“No, I’d prefer not to,” I say.
“Why?” He seems hurt, really hurt.
“Because I’m here to provide food for your
guests and make sure all their demands and
tantrums are attended to.”
“A good reason for you to take a break from
their demands. Maybe I can give your friend
a few tips about the business too.” Now he’s
talking. Zibulo needs to thank me for this.
I’m about to sit with this bossy, demanding
man for him.

I’m trying not to look too much at his face or

notice his lazy facial expressions, you’d
expect him to talk slowly, and the nature of
his eyes that gives no enthusiasm of
anything in the world. He’s having water, I’m
finishing his dessert that he forced me to
have.
“I buy old properties and renovate to add
value. I always try not to get fixated in one
type of properties. I invest in broad range of
properties, in different areas. That helps my
portfolio become less susceptible to market
fluctuations,” he says.
I can tell he’s talking about something he’s
passionate of. What he’s not saying is that it
needs a lot of money, which I’m not sure
Zibulo has. But hey, these are great advices
and I’ll surely pass them to him.
“You’re doing really well, I’m sure they’re
proud of you at home,” I say.
His eyes drop. He doesn’t say anything. I
guess home is off topic.
“So how did find out about my services?”
“On the internet,” he says.
I don’t believe that, it’s not like I’m the
highlight of the internet, but I don’t care how
he found out about me, as long as he’s
paying.
“What else did you find on the internet?” I
ask for the sake of keeping the conversation
going.
“That you’re beautiful,” he says.
If he didn’t have that sluggish expression on
his face I’d say he wants to fuck me, just like
other typical rich men.
“I mean it,” he says.
My heart does it again; skipping a beat.
“Come on, I’m sure you’ve seen more
beautiful girls in your lifetime,” I say with a
slight head shake to dismiss a weird urge to
smile.
“There’s beautiful then there’s you
Thandoluhle. Even if our paths never cross
again, I just want you to know that.” His lazy
eyes are on me, there’s something genuine
in his words. Something sincere in his eyes.
But behind all that there’s something so
lifeless about him, so empty.
“Thank you,” I say with a hard swallow and
stand. Yes you guessed right, I’m running
because I don’t know how to handle this.
Something I’ve never had a problem with
before.
“I have to go,” I tell him.
He stands too.
I can’t breathe.
We are walking towards the door, both of us.
He stops at the door, he’s only seeing me out
and the silly me was mentally doing a
wedding step.
“Thanks for coming through,” he says, he’s
talking about the catering service.
“It’s my pleasure,” I say.
A handshake?
I smile and shake his hand.
His travels up my arm, slowly pulls me and
wraps around my shoulder. It’s a hug, at first
it’s just a formal business hug but his chest
comes closer to mine. Before I know it I’m
crashed against his chest, both his arms
around me and his chin resting on top of my
head.
I feel him breathe and every second thoughts
I had about this hug disperses. I hug him
back; maybe I judged him too quick.
-
-
I’m lying on my back, staring at my phone. I
haven’t changed my work clothes, I can still
smell him in me and feel his strong arms
wrapped tightly around me.
Zibulo finally replies…
Him: *Thank you, I will use his advices.*
Bathong, is he blue-ticking the hug?
Me: *Zibulo he hugged me, the whole
Mlaba! Do you think he wants to smash
and pass?*
Him: *Give him a chance or else you’ll
never know.*
Wow, he’s never been so positive about any
of the men I tell him about. Money really
opens doors and hearts and legs.
Me: *I need to do a background check on
him.*
His response is quick…
Him: *What do you mean Thando?*
Me: *There’s a man I talked to at the
party. He seems to know a lot about
him, he listed all the food he doesn’t
eat. I will find a way to make him sing
everything he knows about this Mlaba
person.*

CHAPTER 4
THANDO ZWANE

It’s Ntoko’s 28th birthday. We thought we’d

be waking up to pop champagne bottles
today but sadly we are hiding every bottle
because the parents are coming with their
church people and we can’t blame them
because they got invitations from Miss Party
herself.
She has a good backyard, we have set up
there with non-alcoholic drinks and finger
foods. Two of her colleagues are here
already, I don’t think they got the memo
because they’re dressed in a way that’s
going raise my mother’s eyebrows. Crop-tops
and bum-revealing shorts are a big NO.
I’m here sweating under the shirt-dress and a
big head-wrap. There’s a responsibility that
comes with being the eldest, I have to look
like I know what I’m doing- being a role
model to my sisters.
There’s a loud hoot outside. That must be
dad, I go behind the kitchen counter and boil
tea water. Setha as the youngest one goes
outside to carry their bags in. Miss Party is
getting dolled up in the bedroom. Ntoko is all
about supporting local businesses; she’s the
only one residing in a township, renting a
four bedroom house at Umlazi. A woman
from her section sew the dress she’s wearing
today, there’s a make-up artist from the
second street doing her make-up.

There’s a suitcase coming in. I didn’t know

they were moving in.
“Thandooo!” that’s my mother. When the
queen arrives everything moves.
“Making tea and coming to greet,” I yell.
“Two spoons of sugar for your dad, two and
half for your aunt and…” I don’t hear what
she says next but I’ll probably figure it out
because I know how everyone drinks their
tea. I have only one aunt, she stays in
Manguzi and comes home three times a
year, or more if she’s fighting with her
husband. What my parents are, combined, is
what my aunt is times two.
Setha is coming to the kitchen; her face tells
me we are under Flora De Zwane’s
presidency. If I get even two grains of sugar
wrong in her tea she will know and the whole
township will know about it.
“Did you know she was home?” Setha asks
me.
“No, I last spoke to Nsizwa last week and he
didn’t mention anything about his mother
coming,” I say.
“Are you sure everything is in order?” She’s
panicking, being the youngest one means all
eyes are on her.
“Yes,” I say scanning my eyes around one
last time.
“Did you cancel everything on your side?”
she asks.
“I think I did. Please keep an eye on the
meat, I have to serve tea.” This is our life, we
do everything by ourselves. No brother, no
husband, just a father who reads the Bible.

Aunt Flora has gained a few kilos…no, a lot of

them. She’s wearing a sea green two-piece,
there’s a flower clip pinned on her dry-perm
wig.
I greet, hugging everybody with a big smile
on my face. Melusi is my father, he’s a
deacon at church and he breathes Jesus
Christ.
“I can’t believe your sister is 28 now,” Aunt
Flora says taking a sip of her tea.
I wait for her reaction; did I make it right?
The second sip tells me I did.
“She’s grown,” mom says with a smile
stretched out.
“But they’re not getting husbands. You
should have grandkids by now MaDludla.
Nsizwa has already given me two,” – Aunt
Flora.
Now we are being compared to Nsizwa who
has two babies who are five months apart
from different babymamas.
“It’s because I raised them with strong
morals, being married is not important than
getting the right husband. Kids will follow
afterwards. I’m proud of them,” mom lifts her
eyes to me.
Don’t think she’s this understanding, one
thing about her though is that nobody comes
for her children without being sent but
behind doors she says everything everyone
is saying to us. It’s a matter of nobody has
the right to say anything about my children
except me.
“I have to go and get ready,” I say and look
at dad. “Do you need anything Mangethe?”
“No ntombi yami, go and get ready. The
party should start soon, we still have to drive
back home,” he says.
If they’re driving back home then whose
suitcase was…Lord, Aunt Flora will be in
Durban for a few days, if not weeks. Ntoko
surely didn’t see this coming.
^
^
^
MLABA

He rolls his sleeves up, his veins protruding

on his tattoo-covered arm. His Chopard
watch dangles as he shoves his fists on the
desk, in front of his property manager,
Siyabonga.
“What did you tell her?” He never loses his
cool with anyone. Even when he’s reached
his boiling point, just like today, he still keeps
a cool head, especially with his staff. But
today he’s just frustrated, scared even.
“Mlaba, she only asked what your allergies
are and if you have any food as your favorite.
And I told her what you don’t eat, that was
it.” Siya still doesn’t understand why the
caterer is such a big fuss, she’s not the only
woman who’s been curious about Mlaba.
Mlaba rubs his face and takes a deep breath.
“Have you heard from her?”
Siya frowns. At first he thought he was about
to get attacked by his boss. “Was I supposed
to?”
“Yes…I mean no, but if you hear from her
please keep what you know about me to
yourself,” Mlaba says.
Siya closes his laptop and puts his hands flat
on the desk and asks, “What is going on?
First it was the unnecessary party, then
twenty thousand dollars for a low-budget
catering service, now this!”
“Nothing is going on, I’m just supporting a
black business woman,” he says.
“My wife sells flat-stomach tea, I’m sure
you’ll buy in bulks because she’s a black
businesswoman too. I will be sending you her
email later.”
Mlaba doesn’t find the humor, he’s worried
about the kind of a twisted life lying ahead of
him. He was seeing Thando for the last time,
that was the plan. He wasn’t supposed to
hug her or look at her in the eyes the way he
did. But he did and he wants to see her again
and again.
While Zibulo is getting updates about the
aunt who came unexpectedly to the party,
Mlaba is setting an appointment with T.Z
Catering “to discuss a possible business
deal”. There’s a tiny stupid voice in his head
that keeps telling him to let her go because
he’s going to take it too far and coming back
won’t be easy.

There’s a knock at the door, before he can

tell the person to go away Siya’s face peeks
through the door.
“The woman I told you about is back again,”
he says.
“Not the one who wants to rent my house
and turn it into a fast-food shack, please.”
Siya chuckles, “You guessed right. Should I
let her in?”
“Tell her I’m not here,” he says dropping his
eyes back to the laptop. Thando is so fed up
with the party and church people. He always
envies her ability to express herself and find
humor in her own misery. Many many times
he’s wished he can be free as her and be
able to laugh and talk his heart out to
someone. As much as she makes her family
seem dramatic, he wishes he had her kind of
problems. An aunt who shows up in vibrant
two-pieces and puts pressure on everyone to
get married and have kids and siblings who
are always in each other’s business.

She sends another text…

Her: *We are praying now, it’s about to
start…chat later*
Only if he could have these conversations
with her in his true identity.
The door opens again. It’s the client he’s
asked to be turned down twice, today she’s
here hoping if she talks to him in person he
will change his mind.
He expected a young woman in suit, not a
mature woman who looks so rural.
Something tells him to stand as she walks in;
Nomalanga’s sharp voice in his head that
always reminded him to respect his elders.
“Sawubona Ma,” he’s ashamed of the harsh
messages he’s been passing to her. Surely
she now thinks of him as an arrogant young
man with no respect.
The woman clutches her handbag under her
arm and gathers her eyebrows in a frown,
studying his face.
“Aren’t you Nomalanga’s son?” she asks.
He holds his breath for a second, this can’t
be! How does this woman know him?
“I am,” he says after collecting another
breath.
The woman forgets about the house she was
here to bargain for. “Do you know who you
are? Do you know where your umbilical cord
is? Mfana wami, you were born royalty, don’t
make your ancestors fetch you the way they
fetched your umbilical cord and placenta
from your mother.”
He knows the story of his disappearing
umbilical cord and placenta, his mother had
concluded that a dog must’ve eaten them or
dragged them to the forests.
“What are you talking about and how do you
know me?” He walks around the desk,
masking his fear with a slight frown. Nothing
can ever make him go back or take the
Dunga surname, nothing!
-
-
This is more of isguqo than it is a party. I
thought the opening verse was going to be
the only verse. But Maka Nhle still has
another one that carries more wisdom than
the first one.
I think from here we are singing ‘Happy
Birthday’ and cutting the cake and talking
more about the verses that were read earlier.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” I ask Ntoko in a
low whisper.
“Yes,” she says.
I’m rolling my eyes.
“It reminds me of my childhood; having
everyone who cares about me coming over
and celebrating that they raised me up.”
Now I get it, it makes sense that she would
invite everyone over, this is how we grew up.
It’s everything our childhood looked like.
“And maybe Aunt Flora was right about me
getting a husband and having kids. I think
I’ve achieved every other dream I had,” she
says.
I hold back a laugh. “Where are you going to
buy a husband?”
“What the internet can’t do still doesn’t
exist,” she says.
Don’t tell me she’s going to look for a
husband on those websites where I met the
likes of Raymond. Internet is for thirsty
people, not her.

My phone vibrates; that’s how boring this

party is, we have our phones in hands. I’m
getting another email from Mlaba, he wants
us to meet and discuss business. How formal
he keeps his tone even in emails still needs
to be studied! Both him and I know exactly
why he’s so interested in my services. I’m
the new snack in town. This is exactly what I
expected from him and guess what, if it’s
going to make me money in the process then
I’m all in. One thing I’m not going to do is
open my heart for him; two can play this
game.
I send him back an email, telling him I will be
free to meet tomorrow evening. I wonder
what Zibulo is going to think now that he rich
man he was begging me to give a chance is
proving to be exactly what I thought he was.

There’s a car pulling up at the gate. More

guests? Maybe it’s the archbishop, you’d
never know. Setha leaves the veranda to go
and open for whoever it is.
I don’t recognize the car or its registration.
Setha directs it to the only free parking
space next to my father’s car which is parked
in front of the house.
A short guy wearing nothing but an
underwear that shapes his balls out
emerges. His shining muscly thighs all out,
he’s wearing nothing on top.
“What the fuck Thando?” Ntoko hisses next
to me.
I see the guy’s face and he looks very
familiar. He’s familiar because I talked to him
on Facebook and booked him for today and
paid the deposit and sent him the address.
He’s a professional male stripper. I forgot to
cancel his service when I suddenly became
monied.
There’s another one he’s with. My reaction
and everybody else’s is freezing. We are just
frozen and somehow the first guy thinks this
is a normal setting and he decides to start
dancing, shoving his shaped dick between
his hands and sticking his tongue out. His
body moves in circles as he walks between
the group of chairs. He’s good at what he
does, that’s why I picked him amongst the
crowd. But I didn’t know he’s slow, so slow
that he doesn’t even see the Bible on my
aunt’s lap and realize how wrong this is.

My mother’s sharp eye gets me off my seat.

This is an embarrassment to the whole family
and me being the eldest means I have to
control the damage fast, before these people
take action.
“Sorry, I think there’s a misunderstanding
here. You’re in the wrong place,” I say
behind the guy, grabbing his arm and turning
him back.
“Nontokomalo’s 28th…” He pulls my waist,
snakes his arm around and dances like he’s
making love to me. I’m trying to talk to him.
“Bhuti this is not…” He reads, flips on his
back, stretches his leg and pumps his front
on the floor.
Setha was closing the gate, she comes back
to the stripping and screams. “Thando you
said you canceled everything!”
My father’s eyes turn to me… and my
mother’s… and my aunt’s…and everyone’s
except two strippers who are dancing
without music.
“I can explain,” that’s all I can say.
My father, the man of God, picks the second
stripper by his arm and drags him back to
their car. Now they realize they’re in the
right place at the wrong time. I’m already a
dead meat.
The second one follows, giving me apologetic
look. It’s my fault, totally. Even when Setha
asked earlier I didn’t remember to
communicate with the strippers about the
change of plans.
I’m not sure this party can go on now. After
they’ve dealt with me, Ntoko is going to
disown me for a few days. There goes all my
efforts of being the role model and
everything parents need from their eldest
children!

CHAPTER 5
THANDO ZWANE

“Kade wagcina ukubona indoda inqunu?”

Aunt Flora asks. (Is it been too long since you
last saw a naked man)
They won’t understand this, no matter how
hard I try. My mother looks ashamed to even
have a nose same as mine.
“They’re just dancers aunty,” I explain for
the third time.
“If you really wanted a dancer at your sister’s
party you could’ve just MaMsweli’s son who
won the TV dancing competition to come
over,” my mother says. She’s talking about a
guy who dances ispantsula, which isn’t
something I’d pay money for.
Aunt Flora finds another excuse to push me
towards the marriage direction. “If she had a
husband none of this would’ve happened.”
My mother exhales in defeat and sips her
green tea; always an option during stressful
times. “What are you going to tell your
father?”
“I don’t know,” I shrug.
She sighs faintly and gives me a mad-
sympathetic look. She’s both mad at me and
feeling sorry for me because my father is
waiting for an explanation and he will be the
hardest to apologize to.
“Is there anything you’d like to discuss with
me and your aunt? Like something private
that you can’t talk to anyone about,” she
asks.
Aunt Flora lowers her eyebrows in attempt to
motivate me to get whatever it is off my
chest. I don’t know what they think is going
on but even if there was something I have
sisters whom I discuss everything with…well,
almost.
“There’s nothing going on. Just like I said, I
hired the dancers for pure entertainment,” I
say.
“But what entertains you about watching
naked men Thandoluhle? Are you lonely?” –
Aunt Flora.
Maybe I am but the strippers weren’t invited
for that and that is not something I’d discuss
with them anyway.
“I’m not lonely,” I say.
They look defeated.
I collect the tea cups and take them to the
kitchen. My father is outside, bidding
goodbye to the last round of guests and
trying to cover up the shame that I just
brought to his name and everything that he
stands for.

Ntoko is officially not speaking to me. Setha

is keeping her distance to prove to the
parents that she had nothing to do with what
I did and she doesn’t agree with it. I just
ruined the day for everyone. It may look like I
don’t care but I do.
I slide into Zibulo’s DMs to vent. I still don’t
know why he hasn’t blocked me, this
friendship or whatever it is a one-sided
relationship. I always bring the problems,
almost everyday.
Me: *How are you doing?*
Him: *I’m good, no complaints*
Me: *When am I going to see your face?*
Him: *Thando what’s wrong????*
He makes sure to add the question marks to
emphasize the importance of the question. I
fall for his caring heart and let everything out
of my chest. I’m at the stage in life where
most of my dreams are coming together. I
don’t have the job I studied for but I have
means of making a living. I have a car, a
currant red Kia Forte, and my own place…
that I’m still paying for. Both my parents are
alive, they love each other and they love us
and church. I have siblings, two girls. What
more could anyone ask for? I should be the
most happiest but I’m not. It’s not something
I can put my finger to, I just know everytime
I’m really happy it never lasts. Last week I
was happy about catering for Mlabalaba
Properties party. I even called it my biggest
breakthrough, but three days later I was
back to where I was. I wouldn’t call it a dark
place, I’m stuck in between the light and
darkness. It feels like something is missing,
or I’m doing something wrong.
I’m venting to Zibulo and as usual, he’s
reading everything and telling me it’s going
to be okay.
Him: *What are you doing now?*
Me: *I’m going to apologize to my father
and then leave. I have a meeting with
Mlaba tomorrow, so that’s what I will
look up to when I’m feeling okay*
My father walks in and I log out of Facebook
and put the phone away. He’s dabbing his
forehead with a face towel. He’s sweating, all
because of me.
He stands across me, I fail to look at him in
the eye so I wipe nothing on the counter with
a cloth.
“What did your mother say?” he asks. He
thinks my mother was the hardest to
understand and my mother thought the
same about him.
“She thinks I’m lonely and that maybe
there’s something I’m going through,” I say.
“Is she right though? You act very
abnormal,” he asks.
“They’re dancers Mangethe. I didn’t know
you guys were coming, it was just a fun thing
for girls,” I say.
“They came out of the car naked
Thandoluhle. Did you see how shameless
they danced with you? What were they
teaching you?”
I slip up and laugh. Teach me? I graduated a
long time ago in that department.
He shakes his head, a short laugh escaping
his lips. “I know you are old and know more
about those things. But you shouldn’t show
that in front of your mother and aunt and our
fellows, you’re the oldest.”
I’m surprised, I didn’t expect him out of all
people to take this so easy. Is this even
Melusi? I thought I’d get a verse and family
meeting.
He grabs a banana, “Don’t tell your mother I
didn’t shout at you. And please never
embarrass us like this again. You knowing
about adult things shouldn’t make our lives
difficult.”
“Okay, I promise.” Suddenly my mood is
bright. At least I have one person in my
corner after everything that went down.
I continue cleaning the kitchen and putting
cutlery back in places. It’s the least I can do
for Ntoko after ruining her birthday. After I’m
done cleaning up I go to the lounge and say
goodbye to the elders.
“Where in Durban do you live again?” Aunt
Flora asks.
Whether she comes to visit or to deliver
blessings, I don’t want her to invade my
personal space.
“I’m always up and down aunty, I work with
people you know,” I say and make sure my
ass disappears before she asks more
questions. Even my parents never come to
visit my house, if they come to Durban we all
gather here, in Ntoko’s house.
-
-
MLABA

Siyabonga has sent his assistant with the

tea. The woman who just introduced herself
as MaSbiya from Mpemane is now sitting
comfortably on the guest couch sipping it.
Mlaba’s eyes are fixed on her, now he cannot
mask the fear in his eyes. But why haven’t
they fetched him the way they fetched his
umbilical cord and placenta? If they were so
acknowledging of their seeds why didn’t they
come through for him all these years? Why
did they let him suffer?
MaSbiya looks at him, slightly shakes her
head and puts the saucer on her lap.
“Son, you cannot run away from what
created your core being. Your father might
have denied you but your ancestors
acknowledged you and embraced you the
minute you were born.” He pulls his
eyebrows, looking exactly like his father,
MaSbiya chuckles. “Do you remember what
happened at your father’s funeral?”
How can he ever forget the first time he
came face to face with the mighty Dungas?
“Things went south from that day. They went
ahead, against the signs of their forefathers,
and throned your brother Mabhungu. The
kingdom lost its credibility, your aunts took
advantage of the boy and before we knew it
there was nothing left. If I’m not mistaken
Mabhungu lost all the livestock, he only has a
few cows that he gets from the people every
now and then.”
Mlaba drags in a deep long breath.
“Honestly, I don’t care about anything that
concerns the kingdom or the Dungas.”
“It’s funny how you keep referring to them as
the Dungas as if you’re not one of them,”
MaSbiya says with a slight chuckle.
“I’m not a Dunga… about the house, I cannot
let you use it for such a long-term business
purpose. I can refer to an agent that can help
you look for commercial properties around
Umbilo.”
MaSbiya’s face falls with disappointment.
“I’m really sorry,” he says.
He waits until MaSbiya leaves before calling
Mercy asking for a strong drink. His Scotch
and soda water comes shortly, he gulps it
down in a minute and locks himself in the
office. He’s going through different emotions,
a big part of him is not affected by what
MaSbiya said, but there’s that tiny voice in
his head that tells him he can run but not
forever.
He logs onto Facebook hoping Thando has
written something that can bring the light
into his life. But no, she’s asking Zibulo when
they’re going to meet. That’s impossible! He
asks what’s wrong because the only reason
she’d want him is if she needs support. Then
she starts writing long paragraphs, she’s
clearly going through something and nobody
is there for her because her family is still
angry with her.

The door flings open, Siya frowns when he

sees Mlaba walking out with his bag and car
keys.
“Is everything alright?” Siya asks.
“Yes…please ask Mercy to send Gorvender
the quotes before the day ends.” Mlaba
walks out in a hurry without explaining where
he’s going. He never discusses his personal
affairs with anyone, not even Siya himself,
his considered friend.
-
-
THANDO ZWANE

I drive slower when I spot the unfamiliar Jeep

Renegade parked outside my gate. I know no
one who owns such car, I don’t have rich
people in my circle. My first thought is a
serial killer or hitman waiting for me, but
then I dismiss that thought. If I happen to get
killed it would be by the average Tomas
wearing a baraclava, I don’t have rich
enemies who’d send me hitmen in a Jeep. My
hitman would jump off the taxi or come
riding a bicycle with his gun.
I hit the hooter and roll down the window on
some stupid brave-woman personal. His rolls
down too and my eyes don’t believe who it
is. I thought we were meeting tomorrow, how
did he even know that I’d be here?
My heart skips a beat when our eyes meet. I
don’t know why he looks so calm, yet so
much mystery surrounds him. There’s
something about the way he looks, like he’s
so uninterested in life yet living so large.
I unlock the gate and we both drive in. I’m
eager to know what was so urgent that he
had to come and see me in person before our
meeting.

He climbs out of the car. He’s in a pristine

shirt and washed jeans. It’s weird seeing him
look so casual, in my head rich businessmen
live and sleep in their expensive suits.
“Mr Mlabalaba Mngoma, what a pleasure!”
I’m lying through my teeth, I didn’t expect
him and I don’t like visitors who just pop out
without notifying me.
“Ms Zwane,” he steps forward after he’s
locked his car. Yes-lock- he’s not here just for
a moment.
He firmly shakes my hand, his eyes are
locked in mine like he’s searching for
something in me. I cover up with a smile, I
just had a shitty day but he’d be the last
person I show that to.
“Is it tomorrow already?” I ask raising my
eyebrow.
He chortles and drops his eyes to my hand
that just sprang off his tight grip. “No Ms
Zwane, I just wanted us to discuss some
details before tomorrow.”
He should add “details” as his middle name
because wow. I remain professional and
invite him in.
What do millionaires drink? I need to offer
him a drink before we discuss the details.
I ask him to be comfortable on the couch and
go to the kitchen to arrange him something
to drink. Most men don’t like tea, so cold-
drink it is. It’s a two litre Lemon Twist that I
only drank two cups from. I throw in some ice
cubes in a cup to give it a fancy look.
He cracks a smile that disappears in a split
second. “Thank you Ms Zwane.”
I roll my eyes, “It’s Thando, thank you very
much.”

He’s been sipping the drink, looking at the

furniture around and back at me. Too cheap,
maybe.
I’m waiting for him to start discussing the
details.
“Are you okay?”
So rich people can just drive to your house
unannounced to ask if you are okay? We are
not that close, duh!
“I’m okay Mr Mlaba,” I say.
He looks at me, his eyebrow cocked up. It
doesn’t look like he believes me but I keep a
straight face, I can’t have strangers
questioning my well being.
“Well, I’m not okay,” he says.
I look at him wanting to say something
stupid, but something in his eyes tells me
he’s not lying.
“What’s wrong?” My voice is full of concern.
He looks away, almost like he’s regretting
saying that loud.
“It’s work,” he says.
I’m not stupid, I know a lie when I hear one.
But it’s not like I’m a psychologist, I would’ve
probably listened to his problems and then
went to sing them to my sisters like a canary.
“Maybe let’s talk about the details
concerning tomorrow’s meeting,” I say.
His eyes flap twice, rapidly. What’s
confusing? He’s here to talk business, is he
not?
“You were lying, weren’t you?”
He smiles…
My heart, fuck! Is it because he’s connected
and rich and could be my stepping ladder to
success? I’m not sure why I’m so attentive to
the details of his face. Only if he smiled
frequently!
“You have a beautiful smile but your face is
boring,” I say.
“Thank you, I guess.” He’s not much
offended.
Well, it was a compliment and I didn’t lie. His
face lacks expressions, it is always long and
dull.
“So why are you here Mlaba?” I ask.
“I’m here to see you Thando. I know I
shouldn’t have, in fact last Saturday
should’ve been the last day. I don’t know but
I just can’t get you out of my head.” Men and
their strategies!
I smile and cross my legs. “Really? I’m
flattered yazi.”
The corners of his mouth stretch in a smile.
“Yes, really. So I’m happy to see you close
again. You look beautiful as always,” he says.
“Mmmmm! You’re not bad yourself.”
His eyes drop shyly. I shift and sit closer-
don’t judge. Then I pick the glass of Lemon
Twist he’s been sipping, I put my lips exactly
where his were and run my lips on the glass
before taking a small sip.
“So Mlaba, where’s your girlfriend if I may
ask?” asks the daughter of the deacon
looking at the innocent millionaire with her
pink finger on her lip.
“I got dumped,” he says.
Interesting! “Did you cheat?” I ask.
He chuckles, “It’s probably the boring face, I
definitely didn’t cheat.”
Well, for me his boring face looks sexy. And if
we do anything beyond the hug today
Thando will be in control. I’m not going to
feel used and sorry for myself after he’s left
and went back to women of his standards.
He’s not going to leave with a piece of me,
not a chance.

I fix a gaze on him, which he steadily holds

until his breaths slow down and become
faint. There’s nothing much about him on the
internet, not even a tiny link or a drunk
family member reaching out to journalists
about his secrets.
Slowly I take his hand and bring it over my
cheek. His eyes soften, he caresses my
cheek and my face leans forward.
“So you’re a single man?” I ask in a lowered
whisper.
I see him taking a deep breath. “Yes, I’m
single.”
“Lonely and sexually-starved as well?”
He’s about to dispute that; I don’t give him a
chance to lie because I know exactly what
he’s after and he’s going to get it. I shut him
up with a kiss. His lips lock into mine, I suck
his lips, inhaling his exhalation and getting
intoxicated by his cologne. His arm wraps
around me, I tuck my hands around his neck
and before I know it the kiss is deeper, it’s
not just two horny people kissing, there’s a
connection that’s pulling both our souls and
uniting them in one.
He feels it too; my eyes open to stare at him
just as he opens his. Our lips disconnect, my
breath is unsteady.
“Thandoluhle!” He’s taking me on again,
pinning me against the couch and kissing me
from the top, with his torso pressed against
me.
I’m gasping for air. He stops and looks at me
in the eyes. I had control but now I’m weak-
I’m fuckin’ soft!
“This thing I’m feeling, is it love Thando?” he
asks me.
“I don’t know you Mlaba, I don’t know what
you are feeling.”
I don’t want this to be something else, I
haven’t thought of it being something more
than him wanting a new pussy to snack on,
and I don’t want it to be anything other than
that.

CHAPTER 6
THANDO ZWANE
He drops his forehead on mine and takes a
shaky breath and opens his eyes to me
again.
“I’m happy, that’s not something I feel very
often. Ever since I saw you at Linda’s
birthday party the pattern of my thoughts
has been different.”
I gather my brows and look at him a bit
shocked. “You saw me there? So last week
was just a stunt?”
“I just wanted to see you again.”
Wow! I’m not sure how I feel about this.
“And now you have seen me, then what?”
His Adam’s apple bobbles up and down. His
hand caresses my cheek again. “I don’t know
Thando. I’ve never liked a person this way
before. I don’t know how to do this,” he says.
“Oh my goodness Mlaba, you’re serious!” My
heart just accelerated. I don’t want to believe
he just saw me and liked me, this is not a
romantic movie with love at first sight and all
that nonsense, there must’ve been
something.
“You’re beautiful Thando,” he says.
I’m flattered, fooled even. I see something in
his eyes that I want to hold on to. Stupid me!
I cannot hold onto anything, I cannot allow
myself to fall for him.
“I don’t know you Mlaba,” I say.
“But you kissed me,” he says.
I roll my eyes, “That’s not a big deal because
I can do more than that and still don’t know
you.”
“I’m from a place called Mpemane, in the
north. I’m sure you already know what I do
for a living. I’m the only child from my
mother, both my parents are late. I have a
couple of friends, I’d like to believe. I’m old
enough to be someone’s father but I’m not.”
I think that’s all there’s to him.
He’s not complicated as I thought.
“Nice to meet you. So how exactly did you
become so rich?”
He chuckles, “Inheritance.”
“So you were born rich?”
“Not really.” I feel something throbbing
against my thigh and my eyes grow wide.
We’ve been lying in this uncomfortable
position for over five minutes. His thlong is
feeling very sensitive and engulfing him in
shame.
“Do you have any condom?” I ask.
For a second his mouth is agape. Then he
hesitantly says no, which brings me to my
own packet of condoms.
“If we take this to the bedroom, I’m sure
there’s a condom lying around somewhere,” I
say.
I see his jaw twitches. “Lying around?”
“I have sisters and my girls often come here.
I also have to stay guarded at all times.”
“Understood, but maybe I can tame the
beast, lest it looks like I was here to…”
The deacon’s daughter shuts him up with a
deep kiss. I know he was here to fuck, what
I’m not sure of is the feelings he says he has
for me. Is it possible to just see someone and
love them? I mean, this is real life, we are
not acting for a Valentine movie.

I break the kiss and drop my lips down on his

neck, brushing them up to his mastoid bone.
“Let’s go to my bedroom,” I say in a low
whisper.
There’s a flash of doubt in his eyes. I plant a
light peck on his lips and see him gasp for
air. His body eases up, I hook my arm around
his and lead him to the bedroom.
I’ve sinned many times in my life, one more
time wouldn’t hurt. I shed my clothes and
jump into bed with only my underwear on.
He’s standing next to the bed, not even
attempting to take his clothes off. So I pull
his hand, bringing him to my reach, and I
unbuckle his belt.
I undo the button of his jeans and pulls down
the zipper. My hand massages around his
waist before pushing down inside his boxers
and grabbing his hard shaft.
He releases a sharp breath between his teeth
and helps me pull down his jeans and boxers.
Then he stands before me bottom naked, his
hard shaft pointing up to his navel. My lips
find his for a steamy kiss before I pull him
onto the bed.
He takes off his shirt and lies on his back. I
make a short trip to the drawers of my
wardrobe and get the condom.
He yanks my underwear off before I sit on his
waist with the condom foil tearing between
my teeth.
Before I dress his shaft up I reverse back and
wrap my hand around, giving it a few hand
pumps before caressing the tip with my
tongue.
His breath accelerates, with his fingers
trembling he holds the back of my head. I
give him the best that my tongue can give,
gagging on his shaft and forcing deep moans
out of him.
When his thigh muscles start tensing up I
stop and climb on top of him and put the
condom on. Then I sit down on his shaft,
allowing it to slowly fit inside me completely
before moving my waist in circles, drawing
the big Os.
“You like that, don’t you?” I ask, smiling
down at him seductively and licking my lips.
“Yes baby, I love it!”
I lift my hips up, his shaft springs out of my
wet core dripping with juices, then I sit on it
again and lie on his chest, pumping myself
on him like a man.
“Thandooo, please slow down, I’m going to
cum!” his voice is raspy and shaky.
I don’t obey, I pump on him harder while
whispering against his ear; “You like this
pussy, don’t you? Get…it… get it!”
His arms wrap around me tightly. His legs
trap me between his thighs with his shaft
stuck inside me. I can’t move, he’s restricting
my moves and stripping me off control.
“Mlaba…” I whisper against his ear, running
out of patience.
“This feels good, don’t make me cum so
fast,” he’s begging.
I release a brief chuckle and promise to be
gentle and slower. His grip releases me, I
kiss his lips before getting off his chest.
I turn around, facing his feet, he can’t hold
me in this position. I bounce on his shaft, his
hands grab my butt in a tight grip. I don’t
pay attention to the twinge of pain inflicted
by his tight grip, I do what I do until an
uncontrollable tremor shakes his feet.
“Ohhh fuck!” he releases the last groan
before he lies immobile, breathing faintly.
^
^
^
The watch ticks 22:16 and I still have a man
sleeping flatly in my bed with his nakedness
covered by a throw blanket that I laid on him
after he dozed off.
I’m no longer the lioness that I was in bed. In
fact I regret acting that way, I’m not
ashamed by sex, women my age are sexual
active and skilled. But the timing was wrong,
that’s how I feel now. I should’ve allowed a
moment for him to want me, I didn’t give him
a minute to even beg, I just gave him my
vagina on a silver plate.
To make things worse the only man I can talk
to about this is offline. I’ve been trying to
write to him, asking him if he thinks I made
myself look cheap, and he still hasn’t
responded.
Me: *He’s in my bedroom right now, sleeping
like a baby. You should’ve heard him begging
me to slow down, crying like a scared little
boy. Maybe that’s why his girlfriend dumped
him. I expected more from him, thought he
was a bad boy, you know like those
millionaires in erotic books.*
Still no response from Zibulo. His last seen
was five hours ago. Maybe he’s busy, or he’s
with his friends.

I clear the bedroom floor, getting rid of the

condom foil and taking his sneakers to the
bathroom. They’re dirty and the part-time
neat-freak in me can’t have them in my
wardrobe with my shoes. I wash them, not
like a wife but like a side-chick; only
removing dirt on the sole.
I leave them to dry and take a very long
shower after releasing the steam he ignited
in me and left burning. I guess it’s true that
first rounds always belong to men. But I was
hoping he’d make up for it, I didn’t think he’d
sleep so flat. I’m even thinking my bed is
better than his, I mean he’s too comfortable,
that’s why he just dozed off like he hasn’t
slept in years.
I put on my cotton pyjamas and get in bed,
leaving a space between us. I cover myself
with the end of the duvet and stare at him
for quite a moment. He looks so peaceful,
like he’s in a resting space and nothing in
this world is pondering his head. It makes me
wonder about his childhood, I mean there
must be a story there, we all have our
stories. But untold stories are always more
interesting. I’m wondering how he got the
scar below his chin and why he supplies eggs
and owns a poultry farm whereas he doesn’t
even eat eggs. Why there’s nothing about his
family and background on the internet yet
his name is so big in the province? And who
names a child Mlabalaba, really?!
^
^
^
When I wake up in the morning and see him
still sleeping flatly next to me I have to check
his pulse. Is he still alive? Setha is the laziest
person on earth but even she doesn’t sleep
for so many hours. Thank God he’s alive.
I leave him in bed and wash my face in the
bathroom to go to the shops and buy some
breakfast ingredients. Zibulo still hasn’t
gotten back to me, now I’m a bit scared
because he’s never went for so long without
talking to me. I don’t even know where he
lives, I don’t have his contact details, neither
do I know anyone who knows him. What if
something happened to him?

I drive to Spar at Innes Junction and get

everything I need and withdraw some cash
for petrol. I fill up my tank and drive back to
my place. I was fast, I barely took an hour.
Mlaba is awake, just like I hoped. But he’s
still in bed, it doesn’t look like he’s moved an
inch from where I left him.
I hope I didn’t break his penis…can he walk?
“Good morning,” I say eyeing him strangely.
“Morning Thando, where are my shoes?”
Oh wow, this is what I get after spreading my
labia and almost tearing my clit on his afro-
pubic hair last night!
“They are in the bathroom,” I say trying hard
not to roll my eyes.
“Please bring them, I need the bathroom.”
Don’t tell me he hasn’t gotten out of bed
because of the shoes? I may not be rich but
my floors are tiled and clean for fuck’ sake.
“Go to the bathroom, the floor is clean,” I
say.
His face changes, in a split second he’s
something I can’t even recognize at the zoo.
I feel a cold shiver running down my spine; I
don’t know this man too well.
“I…need…my…shoes!” Each word is
emphasized.
This is not the time for me to be petty and
stupid. He needs his shoes, I don’t know
what he’s going to do if he doesn’t get them.
I get my ass to the bathroom immediately.
It’s sneakers that I left in the closed
bathroom to dry, of course the sole and
bottom part are still soaking wet. I stand with
my hands on the waist, hating myself for
even thinking about washing them, what kind
of drugs did I smoke last night? I’ve never
washed anything for a man in my life and the
first time I do I get in trouble.
I walk back into the bedroom without them.
His lips purse up, I see a vein pulsating on his
temple as he turns his angry face away from
me.
“They’re still wet, I was trying to remove dirt
and…” He turns his face to me and I swallow
back the rest of the sentence.
“I didn’t need you to wash them, I have
people who do that!”
Owkaaay! Breathe and keep quiet Thando.
He searches for his phone and calls
someone. I’m standing by the door, unsure of
what to do next and frightened.
“I need shoes Siya, send someone to the
address I send you,” he tells the person and
drops the call.
Then he starts typing…my address, I think.
“Are you calling people over my house
without my permission?” I ask.
He pauses and looks at me.
“I need shoes,” he says.
“They will be dry in no time if I take them
outside.”
“Before that, I must be lying in bed and not
even visit the loo?”
Is he dumb?
“The bathroom is just 10 steps away,” I say.
He sighs, like I’m the one who doesn’t get it.
“I only take my shoes off when I’m getting in
bed. I’m never not going to wear shoes as
long as I afford them.” A bit self-
aggrandizing, wouldn’t you agree?
“I think everybody knows that you’re rich
Mlaba. There’s no need to keep proving it. I
don’t need you to piss on my bed just
because there are no shoes.”
He pulls up the duvet and lies back on the
pillow. Now more than I’m worried about him
being mad at me about his sneakers, I’m
concerned about him messing up my
bedsheets. We all know how burning and
impatient the morning pee is.
“Mlaba go to the bathroom, you will get your
shoes.” I feel like a mother begging her 5
year-old to eat veggies. What the fuck is
this? I’m begging a plus-thirty year old man
to go and urinate.
“No thank you, I will wait for my shoes,” he
says.
Sigh!
Shake my head!
Roll my eyes to the cerebrum!
Ask God what did I do to deserve this!
“Did you make a shoe sacrifice?” I ask.
Maybe the witchdoctor gave him riches and
pulled his ear to never let his feet touch the
floor.
He doesn’t take offense very easily but this
time he does.
“What makes you think I made a sacrifice?
Am I not good enough for great things?” he
asks.
“I’m just kidding, relax. I know you inherited
your money, you had rich grandparents. I
understand why you would be disgusted by
my floors.”
“Thando…” He pauses and takes a deep
breath, “I had my first pair of shoes when I
was 14 years old. Before that I had never
worn shoes in my life, so forgive me if my
fear of not wearing shoes ever again in my
life disturbs your peace.”
He’s not smiling, not that he often does. I’ve
never heard him crack a joke, it’s stupid of
me to expect this to be a joke.
“Why didn’t you have shoes if your
grandfather was so rich?” It doesn’t make
any sense. His grandfather had the land that
was worth millions. How come he never had
shoes until 14?
“What you see today is the seed that had to
be thrown in the dirt, covered in darkness
and struggle to find the light in order to
grow. When I had a breakthrough I promised
the 14 year-old me that I will have
everything he ever wished for, even the little
stupid things like shoes.”
Lord, I’ve been so judgmental and
opinionated about his lifestyle without a
slightest clue of his past. I can’t imagine him
being 14 years old, with no shoes on and
poor.
I understand him now. “So how long before
your guy gets here with your shoes?”
He checks his phone, “Soon, he knows the
importance of shoes. I will stay here in your
bed the whole day than to walk barefooted.”
And here I thought my problems were bigger
than everyone else’s! My hands are itching
to fish out my phone and tell Zibulo about
this, but I need to get a grip, this is not a
joke, he hasn’t gone to the bathroom and it’s
almost 9am.

CHAPTER 7
NTOKO ZWANE
This is one day she looked forward the most
and Thando ruined it just like that. It
should’ve been her day, for once her
parents’ attention should’ve been on her and
her alone. But if not Setha, it’s always
Thando, and today has turned out to be a
‘what’s wrong with Thando’ day. Her parents
are gathered in her lounge discussing their
first born because apparently there’s
something wrong with her. It’s impossible
that she could just wake up and decide it
would be entertaining to have naked dancers
at her sister’s birthday. Ntoko turning 28
doesn’t matter more than Thando’s abnormal
behavior or Setha’s sudden weight loss,
which is caused her crazy diet by the way.
She didn’t want to call Zaman, she’s been
ignoring him lately. It hasn’t even been a
month since she agreed to be his girlfriend
but she already has random girls messaging
her and telling her to leave their boyfriend
alone. Of course he denies everything, it
wasn’t that much of a problem because she
did suspects playboy tendencies before she
even agreed being with him. She can ignore
ex-girlfriends or whatever he calls them, but
people showing up at her work and asking
her about his whereabouts is what has led
her into thinking about breaking things off.
She doesn’t know what his dealings are, she
shouldn’t have trusted a driver of Gusheshe
in the first place, whatever he’s doing is
shady and creating enemies for him.
But today she needs some attention, it’s her
birthday, she thought her parents would give
her some but a middle child is always
floating unattended.

Zamani answers, there’s a disruptive noise in

his background.
“Sweerie unjani?” he asks.
“Hey Zamani, it’s my birthday today, do you
mind spending some time with me?” It’s
even weird that she has to tell him about her
birthday, he’s never bothered to ask.
“Seriously? Merry Birthday sweerie, I’m
coming to pick you up,” he says.
She rolls her eyes at merry birthday, so he
can’t even differentiate between Christmas
and birthday. If it wasn’t for his looks there
would be nothing attractive about him.
“My parents are here, please park two
houses away and then call me, I will come
out.”
“Okay, I’m sorry, neh. I didn’t know you had
a birthday today, I would’ve canceled
everything and thrown a big party for you,”
he says.
“It’s okay, I just want to get out of the house
for a moment.” She drops the call and goes
to her wardrobe to find something casual to
wear.
The only good thing that came out of today is
just pictures. The dress was beautiful, so was
her face. She had a whole face-beat done,
she looked like a doll even though she didn’t
receive many compliments.
^
^
^
The door opens as she slides into her
leggings and sneakers.
It’s Setha, she walks in with a slight frown.
“Are you going somewhere?” she asks.
“Yes, just getting some fresh air seeing that
the party ended abruptly,” Ntoko says.
“Yeah, that was unfortunate. Have you
gotten hold of Thando? I’m worried about
her, she left here in a bad mood, she wasn’t
happy about spoiling your party.”
“No Setha, I haven’t spoken to her yet,” she
says.
“You know it was not intentional, right?”
Setha lowers her eyebrows in anticipation.
Ntoko sighs, “I know babe. I’m just mad that
things didn’t go my way. I will talk to her
when I’m ready.”
“Isn’t it weird though that she would just
switch her phone off?”
“What’s weird Setha is you wearing that ugly
dress. You look like a hobo.”
Setha laughs, “It’s called looking good for the
parents. I just feel sorry for you because Aunt
Flora is staying with you for a few days.”
“Why didn’t she move in with you or Thando?
It’s like everyone likes Ntoko’s space but not
really her.”
“Come on babe, everyone loves you,” Setha
hugs her and kisses her cheek. “I just hope
you’re not going out with Zamani because
you don’t need this day to get any worse.”
“Well, I am. Let me just fuck it up to the T
and live with the fact that I just had the worst
birthday ever,” she picks her purse and
stands in front of the mirror applying lipstick.
Setha exhales heavily, “Okay, just call me if
you need some rescue, I don’t trust this guy
of yours. When are you breaking up anyway?
You’ve been dating for over a month now.”
Ntoko laughs, she’s a well-known dick-hopper
now.
“It hasn’t been a month but don’t worry,
after today I will call it off and find another
promising one.”
Setha walks behind her as they approach the
lounge where the parents are gathered.
Being the deacon’s daughter means until
you’re legally married your legs are closed
and you don’t even cast a glance at the
boys’ direction.
She raises her voice as she speaks, “I can’t
believe your boss forgot his documents on
your desk.”
“Yeah, I have to drive there because only me
and the cleaners have the key to the office,”
Ntoko says.
“At least Thando washed the dishes before
she left, you don’t have to cause accidents
driving back fast to wash dishes,” Setha
says.
Zwane looks up, “You’re driving to the office?
Is it not in the CBD?”
“It is baba,” Ntoko says.
“Oh, your mother and I could drop the keys
for you,” he says.
Setha holds back a bubble of laughter, Ntoko
is such a weak liar, she lacks creativity.
“And how would she get the keys back baba?
Monday she has to go to work and her boss
is leaving for Cape Town tonight, that’s why
he needs these documents immediately.”
Ntoko nods vigorously, “Yeah, she’s right, my
boss is leaving for Cape Town tonight, that’s
why it’s important that I go to the office
myself so that I can come back with the
keys.”
“Oh I understand, you’re leaving now?”
Zwane asks.
“Yebo baba, he just texted me a few minutes
ago saying he’s parked down the…”
Setha chimes in quickly, “That he’s already
at their office building, her boss.”
Fuck, that was close! Ntoko takes a deep
breath and lifts her eyes to Aunt Flora
gawking at her with a leery look on her face.
Can anything go past her?
Ntoko lifts her shoulders confidently and says
her goodbyes.
“Please drive safely,” her mother says.
“I will mom, bye!” she exits the lounge as
soon as her legs could carry her. Aunt Flora’s
look follows her out, then she turns to look at
the partner-in-molo Sethabile.
“I will go to the kitchen. Tea anyone?” Setha
asks clearing her throat.
“No baby, we’ve drank enough tea today, I
don’t want your father to take hundred pee
breaks on the road,” her mother says.
“Okay, I will be in Ntoko’s bedroom, call me if
you need anything and don’t leave without
telling me Ma.”
“Don’t worry baby, we are still waiting for the
TV news.”
^
^
^
Ntoko walks past the polar-white Benz GLA
dialing Zamani’s number with fury crashing
through her veins. He said he’s arrived,
that’s why she came out of the house, it’s
freakin’ cold here.
There’s a hoot behind her. Who’s this person
anyway? She turns with a displeased look on
her face. She’s being stood up and now this
fancy car idiot is…
The door opens, Zamani emerges in all-black
with huge sunglasses on.
“I’m here sweerie,” he says taking off the
sunglasses and walking towards her.
She should be impressed by the new looking
car and the efforts he made dressing up like
a decent human, except that the possibility
of this car being stolen is 99% and his
clothes are suspiciously black from head to
toe.
“Zamani whose car is this?” she hasn’t taken
a step forward, she’s caught between
heading back to her house and risking her
life riding this stolen car.
“It’s mine, you want to see the ownership
certificate?” he asks with a grin and pulls her
arm into his, taking her to the car.
She will get in because explaining to the
parents why she’s back so soon would be
another impossible task. She fastens the
seatbelt and looks at him, displeasure written
all over her face.
“Where did you get the money to buy this
car?”
Zamani smiles, he’s always happy. “I work
sweerie, why do you think I’m always busy?”
“Where do you work?” The last time she
checked he described what he does as
hustling and today it’s suddenly defined as
work.
“Import and export of goods and services,”
he says.
Sounds like a crammed EMS line.
“So you scam people? That’s what scammers
say these days; they’re importing and
exporting.”
He brushes her cheek and leans over to plant
a wet kiss.
“It’s your merry birthday sweerie, don’t
worry about what Zamani does and who he
scams. Tell me, where do you want me to
take you?”
He’s right, they’re breaking up later, she
shouldn’t worry about what he does and
what’s not.
“I just want some fresh air, maybe grab ice-
cream and go back home,” she says.
“Go back home? No ways sweerie, it’s your
birthday and your boyfriend loves celebrating
you.”
Almost sweet! She suppresses a smile and
looks outside the window.
He starts the car and drives with his hand
holding hers, unwillingly so.

He drives to Mega City and asks that they

get her ice-cream at McDonald’s. She’s
getting stares as she walks with him holding
her hand. It must be the way he’s dressed,
he unmistakably looks like a thug, which may
not be a wrong impression, today he woke up
with a whole Benz to his name.
They are greeted by a staff member who
asks if they’re sitting in or getting take-
aways.
“We are just getting ice-cream, it’s my
sweerie’s birthday,” Zamani says with no
necessary grounds, completely unprovoked.
The girl can’t do anything but smile. “Oh
happy birthday, you can order in the kiosk
and collect your order at the front.”
“Thank you,” Ntoko says, smiling feebly.
They walk towards the free kiosk, he’s the
one paying so he should make the order.
“I want the Oreo McFlurry,” she says
standing behind him.
“Hold on sweerie, how do I tell this thing
what you want?”
She resists a bubble of laughter and steps
closer. “Touch on the screen, on your bottom
right and the menu will pop up.”
He shakes his head and hands her the R100
note, “The only ATM I use is Nedbank. You
deal with this thing and get your ice-cream.”
“This is not an ATM,” she laughs and enters
her McFlurry order and uses her card to pay,
keeping his cash in her purse.

After getting her McFlurry she’s ready to go

back home. This drive was definitely what
she needed, now she’s able to allow the rest
of her birthday to sink in and she’s feeling
lighter and happier.
But this man is headed to the M30, just as
Ntoko remembers that her parents will see
her car parked in the garage while she’s
supposed to be driving it to the office. Messy
lies!
“Where are we going?” she finally asks him.
He lowers the music volume that’s been
deafening her ears.
“It’s your birthday, isn’t? I didn’t arrange
something big because you only told me an
hour ago, but I will celebrate your day
sweerie, relax.”
He arranged something? She didn’t expect
this one, against her better judgment and
fear of the police, she wants to see what he
has going on, wherever they’re going.
“I hope there’s nothing illegal going on,” she
says. At times she feels like she judges him
too much, but he doesn’t make things easy
too.
“A group of people celebrating a queen’s
birthday is not illegal,” he says.
A group of people? Hopefully it’s not anyone
wearing black clothes and doing ‘imports and
exports.’

They’re at Jameson Park, Montpelier road in

Morningside. It doesn’t look like this is a
place that accommodates crazy black
parties, it’s good for taking pictures and
relaxing. How are they even open at this
time?
There’s a Ford EcoSport pulling up behind
them. Braai-stands and big coolerboxes and
bags of coals come out.
“Zamani who are these people? And why are
we throwing a party in a park at night?”
Ntoko is shaking like a leaf, both because of
the cold wind and the fear of getting arrested
by people who live around this park.
“Umhlaba kaNkulunkulu lona sweerie, God
owns this land, it’s very legal to celebrate a
birthday that he gave you here on his land,”
he says pulling her hand to the car that just
pulled up.
Two guys step out with their eyes fixed on
her. Great, just great!
“Hey beautiful queen,” one greets.
You don’t have to see it to know this one has
a gun. His smile resembles that one of the
devil.
“Ummm hello,” Ntoko greets back,
uncomfortably standing behind Zamani.
He’s pulled from there and hugged, by both
men. Is this even legal? Being hugged by
strangers in a park party? Zamani doesn’t
seem to mind that they are hugging her.
“Happy birthday Ntoko,” they say in unison
like they’ve been practicing it for hours.
She can’t help the smile spreading on her
face.
“Hhayi-bo nina boxamu culani,” Zamani tells
them. (Sing, you iguanas) He’s rude but they
don’t look offended, in fact they start singing
‘Happy birthday’ in hushed voices.
It’s almost awkward but she’s enjoying this,
not because of the attention that she’s been
seeking for all day, but she feels genuinely
celebrated.
“Wow, thank you guys,” she says and looks
at Zamani hoping he’d do the proper
introduction.
And he does, one is his brother Tusani and
one is his friend, Mbo.
“Bring chairs Tusani,” Zamani instructs and
Tusani hurries to get camp chairs out of the
car.
“Are we allowed to be here?” she’s still
worried.
Zamani just pulls her closer and smooches
her lips slowly until she’s unable to breathe
properly. They fucked the day they became
boyfriend and girlfriend and never again, it
was three weeks back and she decided she
would break up with him before sleeping with
him again. It was a quick fuck in the car, very
random and affectionless.
She rests her head on his chest as they stand
waiting for the chairs, Zamani lifts his head
to Mbo staring at them with a stupid grin on
his face.
“I hope you got the cake,” he says.
“Relax, I’m an event-planner, a good one,”
Mbo says. They share a smile that Ntoko
cannot see.
It wasn’t a bet, he just got her and told them
he has a girlfriend who’s employed, has her
own house and car and comes from a
religious family. Zamani who’s always
hooking up with slayqueens who disappear
with his money and sometimes try to trap
him with lies and fake pregnancies, it was
hard for them to believe him. Until today
when he called and told them he just found
out it’s her birthday and they need to
arrange something as quick as they can. The
cake was bought from Spar, those ready
ones, they just asked for her name to be
written on it and went to Zamani’s house to
get the braai material. Then they practiced
singing ‘Happy birthday’ as he requested,
they have to represent him well. It turns out
this Ntoko really exists.
Ntoko looks at him, disbelief written on her
face. “There’s a cake?”
“It’s your birthday sweerie,” he says and
lowers his lips to her forehead planting a soft
kiss. His arms wrap around her shoulders in a
tight embrace. She heaves a deep sigh and
allows her body to let loose on his chest and
his woodsy cologne to intoxicate her. She
doesn’t wish him to let go of her, it feels
good to be here on the thug’s chest.
However, the meat has to be done.
He slowly pushes her off, she lifts her eyes to
him with pouting lips.
Mbo has been keeping an eye, he yells from
the braai area, “Don’t worry, we got
everything covered here.”
Zamani gives him a thumb and looks back at
her smiling.
“You heard that? They want me to spend
time with my queen on her birthday
undisturbed.”
“Fine, let’s sit, I want to hear more about the
import and export of goods and services.”
He takes off his black jacket and puts it over
her shoulders.
“Come on, let’s take a short walk and talk
about it,” he says.
He’s willing to talk more about it, very good.
He fetches something from the car and
comes back.
CHAPTER 8
NTOKO ZWANE

They’re just wandering around the park with

their arms linked. She feels different about
him than she did an hour ago. There’s no
reason enough for her, being who she is and
coming where she’s coming from, to
associate herself with someone like him.
However it feels so right, she’s the happiest
she’s ever been in a very long time.
“I’m very sorry, sweerie. Next year I will
know it’s your birthday and I will get you a
beautiful gifts,” he says.
This illegal braai is a beautiful gift because
she’s surrounded by love.
“It’s fine, I don’t know when your birthday is
either.”
“13 March, it has already passed and I don’t
really celebrate birthdays.”
“Why not?” she asks, they’ve stopped behind
a tree, standing and facing one another.
“I just don’t ever get a reason to celebrate
myself,” he says.
“You should, I mean you work hard importing
and exporting goods and services, right?”
He smirks, “I guess you’re right but today is
not about me.”
“Are you a criminal Zamani?” she asks, not
harsh but firm enough for him to know this
conversation has changed its direction.
“You want to dump me?” he asks.
“Just tell me,” she’s getting impatient.
“I make means to have what I don’t have and
I don’t have many things Nontokomalo.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” she
huffs and pulls her hands and folds her arms.
It hurts because she now cares whether he’s
a criminal or not. There’s a glimpse of hope
she sees for this relationship.
“Look at me sweerie,” he lifts her chin and
turns her face to him. He presses his lips on
hers in a kiss attempt but she shifts her face
to the side.
“I fuckin’ love you,” he says.
“Why are you swearing?”
“Okay, I love you very much. I want you to
give me a chance, not to prove that I’m
perfect because I’m not, I just want to love
you and do it right.” He turns her face to him
again and notices a few drops of tears.
“I’m not a bad person, I just make bad
choices because good ones don’t pay off.
Give me a chance to make you happy, to
make US happy, please.”
“I don’t know Zamani, I do want us to
continue and see where this takes us, but at
the same time I feel like I already know.”
“You don’t know the future sweerie, you
can’t be sure of anything,” he says.
She sighs, “I guess so. We need to go back,
maybe they need help.”
He pulls her back, “No, they don’t need
anything. It’s me who need something from
you.”
“What do you need from me?” she asks.
He drops his lips to the side of her neck and
caresses her with a trail of soft pecks.
“Ingquza babe,” he says.
She pushes him off, she’s already talked to
him about the way he speaks, she doesn’t
appreciate it.
“Let me go, I’m not your friend, don’t talk to
me like that,” she’s angry.
Zamani pulls her by waist and grabs her hips,
forcing a kiss on her cheek. “Okay I’m sorry, I
will say it in English. I need ivajayna,” he
says.
Instead of getting offended this time she
laughs and slightly shakes her head.
“We are at the park Zamani, your brother
and cousin are here, you are not going to get
the vajayna especially after the tone you
initially used,” she says.
“I’ll be fast, I have the condom,” he begs.
“No, if you’re lucky I will give you some in
the car,” she says.
“Okay, blow-job’nyana?”
“I’m a deacon’s daughter Zamani, I hope you
remember that,” she says loosening up and
allowing him to pull her back and run his
hands around her waist.
“Pleaseee,” he begs softly against her ear,
sending warm tingles throughout her body.
“Okay, let’s do this fast.”
He unbuckles his belt, “Which one are you
giving me?”
“You choose,” Ntoko says.
He smiles, “I want the vajayna, maybe you
can give me the blowjob in the car.”
Now he’s reaching but she won’t spoil his
mood. Their lips tangle in an intimate kiss,
his fingers are sneaked under her panty and
stimulating her clit.
This has to be discreet so their moans
disappear between the kiss.
When he feels enough moisture she pulls
down her leggings and asks her to turn
around and give him her back.
His tongue licks between her buttocks, she
almost jumps in shock. But he holds her
steadily and separates her buttocks and
sticks his tongue into her opening. How is
she supposed to keep silent?
He kneels and tucks his head right under her
legs and sucks her from the bottom like a
hungry calf.
She’s pressed both her lips together to avoid
any sound escaping and giving his friend and
brother the glimpse of what’s going on
behind this tree.
Zamani inserts his fingers and rotates it
inside her, rubbing around her soft tissues.
More juices flow down his hands, he licks her
clit again and then sucks it. She covers her
own mouth and almost drops on the ground
when warm juices explode out, causing her
whole body to tremble.
“I love you sweerie, now spread the cheeks
for me.” He’s tapping his hard dick on her
buttock and inhaling sharply between his
teeth, making the cold ‘zhzh’ sound.
She spreads her butt cheeks, exposing her
wet core to him. He enters her slowly with his
hand gripping on her hip, until he’s fitted his
whole dick inside and balanced by his balls
on her opening.
“I don’t want to cover your mouth like a
bitch, please don’t be loud sweerie. Indoda
iyakuthanda, uyezwa?”
“Yes…yes babe!” she’s already panting
before he even moves.
He starts pounding her from behind, with no
gentleness but better than their first day in
the car, he keeps reminding her that he loves
her.
“You’re so wet sweerie…are you going to
cum for me?” He spanks her butt cheek and
pulls her hips closer, fully burying himself in
her core and stirring her up.
“Yes baby, I’m going to…”
“Shhh!” He spanks her again.
Her vision is getting blurry, knees too weak
and the pressure to scream at the pleasure
she’s getting from this is unbearable.
“You feel so good sweerie! You definitely
need to cum on that dick, spread that shit on
me!”
She squeezes her vaginal muscles and tries
to hold back. But two spanks on her butt
cheeks and she lets loose, his dick propels to
the depths of her core and then moves in
circular motion.
He gets what he wanted; her juices all over
his dick. She loses her balance and falls on
her trembling knees.
He kneels behind her and inserts himself
again. “I love you so much sweerie, tell me
this is all mine.”
Ntoko is still recovering and the position
she’s being pounded at now is
uncomfortable.
“Please tell me, is this all mine?” He’s almost
there, his whole body is hot, he’s losing the
pattern of his breaths and vision.
“It’s all yours Zamani,” she finally says.
He pounds her like a madman and finally
reaches his breaking point. He falls apart
behind her, calling her name in a faint voice
and professing his love.
“I love you Ntoko!” His body becomes rigid
with his head bowed and jaws tightly
clenched together.

They help each other up, he takes off his T-

shirt and they wipe themselves with it. Then
he wears the jacket over his vest and folds
the T-shirt.
Before they go back to Tusani and Mbo, he
crashes his lips on hers and kisses her until
she becomes breathless.
And plants a peck on her nose, “Thank you,
that was good.”
“What if they heard us?”
He chuckles, “Don’t worry, they didn’t hear a
thing, there’s wind.”
“You’re turning me into something I’m not,”
she shakes her head and links her arm into
his.
“I can stop if you ask me to,” he says.
“As you have good listening skills!”
He chuckles, “I don’t, but you’re one person
whose voice I will respect more than
anything in this world.”
And just like that she’s melted like butter on
the hot pan.

Mbo turns and sees them coming and breaks

a chuckle.
“I thought a lion came and ate both of you,
that was a long walk!”
Tusani laughs, “Mandela’s long walk to
freedom. But we are done-ke, you can both
sit.”
They both sound tipsy, they have beers in
their hands.
“Did we bring the plates?” Tusani looks at
Mbo wide-eyed.
Zamani sighs. Stupid motherfuckers!
“How are we going to eat?” he asks.
“Don’t worry, I have a cardboard and scissor
in the car. No plates formed against us shall
prosper,”- Tusani.
Zamani is getting frustrated. “You want her
to eat on a piece of cardboard?”
This is all funny to Ntoko.
“It doesn’t matter, nothing is appropriate
about this but I’m loving it anyway,” she
says.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, stop stressing others, you haven’t lifted
a finger.”
Tusani cheers, “Dankie Queen!”
The cardboard is cut into four pieces and
handed to each person. They sit on the camp
chairs and eat, under rising stars, illegally.
“Are you going to cut the cake?” Zamani
asks her. There’s no table, it’s just a hopeless
situation.
“Yes, on your lap,” she says.
“But for who? We don’t eat cakes, why don’t
you go home with it?” Mbo asks.
“Ummm, not even small pieces?” she asks
hesitantly.
“No, we don’t eat cakes.”
“I do,” Tusani says.
When they all look at him he starts laughing.
“The salty-velvety one,” he says.
His brother is the first to laugh. Who calls
them into order? How improper can these
people can get?
^
^
^
Ntoko walks in with a big box of cake, much
to the surprise of her aunt and Setha who are
still up and watching TV. Setha’s eyes widen,
she was just convincing their aunt that she’s
held up processing some work for her boss.
“Did you get the cake from your boss?” Aunt
Flora asks.
“Yes, he was wishing me a happy birthday,”
Ntoko says.
Setha laughs, “That’s a big cake, there are
no kids to eat that much sugar here.”
“I will take it to work,” she says.
“So that was your gift? Your boss is very
funny,” Setha is indirectly throwing shade at
Zamani.
Ntoko catches it flying; “I only told him it’s
my birthday today, he didn’t have much time
to arrange a gift but he tried.”
Aunt Flora raises her eyebrows, “Isn’t your
birth date in the company database?”
Ntoko swallows, “It is, it just slipped his
mind.”
Flora folds her arms, “I hope your ‘boss’
knows Jesus.”
Setha raises her eyebrow, stifling back a
laugh. “Does he know Jesus?”
“Who doesn’t know the celebrity of heaven
and earth?” she walks past them to the
kitchen.
Flora’s voice follows her, “Don’t get too
drunk in love Nontokomalo and disrespect
the Lamb of God.”
She mumbles a low apology to God and
opens the refrigerator to create space for her
cake.
She needs to take a bath before Flora sniffs
the park sex. This turned out to be the best
birthday ever!

She shuts the door and strips her clothes off

and squats in front of the mirror checking
how vajayna looks after that pounding. Her
heart almost leaps out of her throat when
she hears coming footsteps. She dashes to
the bathroom and gets in the bathtub.
“Ntoko!” Setha yells.
“In the bathroom, coming out in a few
minutes.”
The door opens, she sits with her legs firmly
closed as the water fills up the tub. She’s
never minded her sisters watching her while
she bathes but today, umh!
Luckily Setha just stands by the door.
“Did you tell him?” she asks.
Ntoko frowns, “Tell him what?”
“That it’s over,” she says, sharpening her
look.
Oh that! She was supposed to be breaking up
with Zamani.
“I don’t think that’s what I want anymore.”
“What? Is he not into illegal stuff now?” –
Setha.
“I don’t want to judge him before I get to
know him. He came through for me today.
We had a braai at Jameson Park, ate on cut
cardboards and sat on camp-chairs under the
stars. He invited his brother and friend and
they sang for me. It was really amazing and I
think he genuinely loves me.”
“You ate on a piece of cardboard, sat on a
camp-chair at the park at night…wait
Jameson Park is in Morningside, how did you
have a braai there?”
“I don’t know but I had a braai there and
nobody arrested us.”
“Was it not closed?” Setha asks.
Ntoko sighs and splashes water on her body.
There’s a tiny sting on her lips down there,
when is this girl leaving?
“I don’t think you had a legal birthday braai, I
wouldn’t be so proud if I was you. So you’ll
keep dating him until you both land in jail?”
“Don’t be so judgmental Sethabile, the guy is
trying.”
“You think your family is going to accept
him?”
“I will cross that bridge when I get there,
please close the door on your way out.”
There’s a grimace on her face.
Ntoko chuckles, “I hear they’re rough, tell
him to be gentle next time.”
“Well, fuck you very much, close the door
behind you.”
^
^
^
It’s the next day, Flora went to buy blankets
in town. Thando arrives looking exhausted
and throws her bag on the couch, almost
landing it on Ntoko’s cheek. She’s supposed
to be here to apologize about the mess she
created yesterday on Ntoko’s birthday but
the drama she was subjected into this
morning has drained her energy completely.
“Are you okay?” Ntoko asks.
She yawns, “I’m tired.”
“How are you going to attend your meeting
with Mr Mlaba M?”
“We’ll video-call or something,” she shrugs.
“What happened? I hope it’s not the
mysterious man you’ve been chatting to,”
Setha finally takes her eyes off her phone
and looks at Thando.
“No, it’s not Zibulo,” she says without paying
much attention.
Her two sisters high-five and look at her all
amused.
“So his name is Zibulo?
She grunts regretfully, “Oh gosh! That one is
just a friend I met on Facebook and talk to
frequently. He’s got nothing to do with this,
Mlaba has everything to do with it.”
“Mlaba of Mlabalaba Properties? The one who
paid you dollars last week?” Ntoko asks.
“Pretty much,” she says.
“What did he do? I hope he paid you all your
money.”
“Oh no, it’s not about money. He…he slept in
my house last night.”
Gasps!
“Your tiny house?” Setha asks.
Thando gives her a cold look.
“Okay, sorry. Did he sleep with you? I hope
not,” – Setha.
“We did have sex but that’s not what I’m
worried about. He said he loves me, I don’t
know if he meant it, I’ll just have to wait and
see.”
“A millionaire businessman said he loves you
and slept in your tiny house overnight, not to
mention the job he gave you last week, and
you’re here with the long face?” Setha asks,
this is unbelievable.
“He’s obsessed with shoes Sethabile,”
Thando says.
“Shoes he afford, right?”
“Yes but that’s not the case. His story is deep
and I understand where he’s coming from.
But you won’t believe he sat in bed for
almost an hour, pressed with pee, and
refused to get off bed and touch the floor
with his feet.”
Now they’re shocked. Yeah, right?
“He couldn’t walk to the bathroom without
shoes?”- Setha.
“And where were his shoes?” – Ntoko.
She heaves a sigh, “I washed them and they
didn’t dry. I didn’t know about his obsession
with shoes until he explained.”
Setha rubs her neck, “He’s weird but I can
live with that, the guy is loaded.”
“I’m just wondering how many layers he has.
There’s something so empty and deeply
buried in him. Why nobody knows anything
about him? Not even gossip blogs.”
Setha nods, she gets where Thando is
coming from even though she’s still standing
by her views too.
“I hope he’s not a criminal,” she says.
Ntoko casts a dirty look, “Who died and
made you the assistant of God?”
“Did I mention any names? What’s eating
your ass?”
Thando’s head pounds harder. Not their
stupid fights today, God please!
“Who’s a criminal now?” she asks.
Ntoko drops her eyes to her phone, she just
received a bank notification from a Nedbank
account.
“Guys, we have secrets now?” Thando asks,
she just told them about Zibulo for Christ’
sake.
“There’s no secret, I’m not dating a criminal,
I mean there’s no pending criminal case
against him, neither has he been prosecuted
of any. So I don’t know what the niece of
Jesus is talking about there,” Ntoko says.
“Fine, who is he? And when are you breaking
up with him?”
“We are not breaking up. His name is Zamani
Mnyandu.”
“Well, I hope he can survive without shoes,”
Thando says.
Laughter erupts!
CHAPTER 9
THANDO ZWANE

He hasn’t canceled our meeting, there hasn’t

been any communication after he left my
house, so I guess it still stands as it was. I’m
not sure how to dress, formal or sexy? My
sisters already know about him but I think
they’ll judge if I start worrying about my
appearance so early in the situationship.
After trying on a few outfits I settle for
leather culottes shorts, a floral top and
match up with a faux leather jacket. I push
back my natural hair and tie it at the back. I
look casual, nothing over the top, there’s
nothing screaming ‘desperate’ about me,
which is part of the plan. I wear shades to
hide my enervated eyes; it’s been wild since
the party. From ruining the party to fucking a
man who’s almost a stranger to waking up to
the shoes saga. If he didn’t say this was
about business, which means making a lot of
money, I would’ve postponed and just stayed
home with a glass of wine. My body needs a
rest.
I decide to call him when I enter the CBD, I
want to know if he’s there yet.
“Ms Zwane how are you?” he asks formally.
I don’t know why I’m hurt, there’s a lot to
figure out before he acts on the feelings he
said he has for me. And I’m hard to deal with,
aren’t I?
“I prefer you just call me Thando. I’m almost
at the restaurant for the meeting,” I say.
“Oh man, that! Are you already there?” I
don’t like the sound of his voice. He can’t
stand me up, that’s not how we roll here in
my planet.
“I’m almost there Mlaba. Where the hell are
you?” My tone is sharp and firm.
“In the house, I just woke up from a nap,” he
says.
I’m astounded, to say the least. I just drove
thirty minutes to meet with him so that we
can discuss his ‘business idea’. But of course
the rich Mlaba forgot, or rather pushed it to
the back of his head, because my time is not
money, it’s just stones.
“Thando….” He calls my name.
I’m staring at the screen of my phone
contemplating whether to drop the call or tell
him which road to take to hell.
“I’m just 20 minutes away, take King
Cetshwayo Hwy,” he says.
“Wow Mlaba, this is so unprofessional. You
could’ve just called me and canceled instead
of making me a fool. So I must take the King
Cetshwayo Hwy and stop after I’ve driven for
20 minutes?” My blood is boiling. I’m sure he
wouldn’t do this to any other potential
business associate, it’s just me because I
fucked him.
“I will send you the address dear.”
Aaaand he calls me ‘dear’. Now I’m only
going there because I need his business
proposal.
-
-
I envy the serenity of this place. I’m not
surprised he’d be perched in such a secure
place, his personality is reserved and not all
over the place. He wouldn’t fit anywhere else
but here. I doubt there are many black
people here, my kind had enough of being
quarantined in the houses back in the days
of white rulers. Here there’s no gossip, no
Jehovah’s witness knocking at your door, no
ice-cream man screaming on the road. It’s
just quiet and that could be very frustrating
for the black life of me.

I don’t know what I’m driving into. A white

house or castle? The gate opens before I can
tell him I’m outside, I don’t know how he saw
me. It closes behind me, scary shit, I hate not
being in control, even if it’s just a gate.
I knew he is rich but this is not what I
expected. I mean you can be rich and earn
the highest salary in your company but being
black means you already have a heap of
responsibilities and debts you were born with
to pay off. He may not have parents but I’m
sure he wasn’t born free, that doesn’t
happen to us, never.
The garden entrances are dressed up. His
white picket fence is climbed by roses,
verbena and foxgloves. To me this just looks
like a place people would hire to take
Instagram pictures, otherwise why would
anyone put himself through such expenses,
surely these flowers need to be taken care of
and trimmed frequently.
I park in front of huge pivoting glass doors.
My breath is taken away, I stand for a
moment staring around and asking myself
who exactly is this person. Setha was right,
my house is just box compared to this. I’m
sure it’s just a size of one of his bathroom.

I walk inside. Yes you guessed right, he

didn’t fetch me from the door and he’s not
anywhere in sight. Very welcoming.
I stand in the foyer, stuck in my steps. The
foyer introduces me to his classic style;
diamond-patterned marble floors, gray
printed walls and a sweeping staircase and
iron banister disappearing to the upper floor.

“It’s the catering girl,” a voice says.

I turn to Mercy walking towards me with a
stack of papers placed on her arm. She’s in
another tight dress and pencil heels, she’s
braided her hair and looks almost gorgeous.
She tries. An upcoming Kenya Moore.
“You’re here to see Mlaba?” She’s smiling,
there’s a dancing twinkle in her eyes. I don’t
know why I feel like punching her face.
“Yes, I’m here to see Mlaba,” my tone is
setting a battle. So she’s sleeping with him
and they had the nerve to hire me for their
party and strip me off my dignity with their
99 demands.
“He’s in the bathroom, get seated and wait,”
she instructs me.
I stand, glaring at her as she looks at me with
a somehow amused face. What am I? A
stupid church girl who cooks?
She walks past me heading to the door. “I
have to get going, toddles!”
I’m still standing. Do I have the right to feel
this way? We may not be anything for now,
but this man confessed his feelings for me
and slept with me. He lied and said he was
single.

I let myself into his living room and sit on the

couch and retrieve my phone from my purse.
I log on Facebook and send Zibulo a
message, this friend of his is proving to be
trashier than I thought.
Ouch! There’s something vibrating under my
ass as I send the message. It’s the phone, I
pick it so that I can place it on the coffee-
table. The screen is still on, my eyes
stealthily run on the message that just came
in. Confusion dwells on my face. It indicates
from his messenger that he has a new
message from Thando Zwane.
I don’t have Mlaba on Facebook. I’ve never
seen his profile, I’ve only bumped into his
business pages that I doubt are even ran by
him. Maybe it’s another Thando Zwane, I
have no business snooping through his
phone but the timing is just off. I don’t think
of anything else than being hacked. But why
would Mlaba hack me? He’s way too busy for
that.
My thumb drags down the notification to see
the glimpse of what this Thando Zwane is
saying to him. Boom, it’s everything I just
wrote to Zibulo. I wasn’t nice, normally I
never am, there’s a drop of sweat running
down my spine.
Why is the message I’m sending Zibulo
reporting in his phone?

I don’t hear any footsteps, I just see big

hands grabbing the phone from my hand and
I look up. Am I angry that he hacked my
phone? Or scared that he probably read
everything I’ve said about him to Zibulo? Or
just embarrassed that I’m this weird person?
“Are you…are you okay?” He looks shaken
too.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” I nod.
His eyes stay on me for a minute, before he
drops them to the screen of his phone and
takes a leaping breath. I notice this is not the
phone I saw him using.
I don’t say anything, I just look at him.
“I can explain,” he says.
I’m sure he can and he WILL.
I keep my eyes on him, he’s swallowing,
rubbing his earlobe and looking all
apologetic. So me coming here was actually
fate, this needed to happen, I needed to
know the kind of a creep he is.
“Did you hack my phone?” I ask.
He raises his eyebrow, feigning confusion.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Mlaba, I will ask again. Did you hack my
phone?” This guy doesn’t know me, I will
walk out of here and forget I ever met
someone like him. Physical attraction is
something I can get over by drinking one
bottle of wine.
“No, I didn’t,” he says.
“Explain how my Facebook messages report
to your messenger,” I demand to know,
standing on my feet and setting a stare
battle.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
I laugh, I don’t mean to. He’s what?
“You’re sorry Mlaba?” I’m shaking with
anger.
“I didn’t want it to get this far. I knew it was
wrong and I shouldn’t have done it.”
I’m hearing him but it’s like I have difficulties
processing words in my head.
“I loved you the very first day I saw you but I
was scared. I’ve never felt anything like this
in my life. I don’t let people in my life, not too
deep. And what I felt for you was something I
knew would need me to open up,” he says.
I don’t think we are on the same topic. He’s
talking about love and I’m talking about him
hacking my phone.
“So you hacked my phone because of that?”
I ask.
“No, I didn’t.” Why he keeps denying it?
I collect my purse and throw my phone inside
and head out.
“Thando,” he calls softly behind me.
I’m horn-mad but there’s still that thing
buried deep inside me and it’s too caring,
especially for him.
I stop and look back at him. “Why would you
do something so creepy? It doesn’t suit you,”
I ask.
“I’m Zibulo…Zibulo Dunga, that’s my birth
and real name.”
I don’t faint, that’s what shocking the most.
He’s Zibulo? How?
“You are not Zibulo, you are Mlaba,” I’m
confused but this can never make any sense.
“Mlabalaba is a nickname, Mngoma is my
mother’s maiden surname,” he says.
Wait a minute, I need a minute…he said
what?
“You’re Zibulo?” I feel tears pricking my
eyes. I trusted Zibulo with my life, I talked to
him about things I never tell even my sisters.
He nods, “Yeah, I’m very sorry.”
“How long have you been stalking me?”
“I wasn’t stalking…”
“What do you call what you did Mlaba…I
mean Zibulo?”
He’s quiet. I turn and leave. My heart is in
tatters, how can he fool me like this?
^
^
^
I knew I’d be in a more destructive state if I
went to my house to be alone, so I came
here to Ntoko’s house. I regret it immediately
when I see Aunt Flora wandering around the
garden talking to herself. It won’t be
thereupic as I thought it would be.
I raise my hand greeting her from a distance
and walk into Ntoko battling with the pots.
Having Aunt Flora as a guest means no take-
outs, she has to cook full meals everyday.
“Hey, did you get the deal?” she asks with
her back turned.
I open the cupboard and pull the bottle of
wine we hid behind baking flour on the day
of the party.
She gasps, “Fuck, Florence is outside!”
“Don’t worry,” I pull the mug and pour the
wine.
She snatches the bottle and puts the cap
back on before she asks what happened.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t agree on the terms
and conditions of the contract?” Ntoko’s wild
guesses are making me even frustrated.
“We didn’t talk business,” I say and slowly
sip my wine.
“Owkay, then tell me what got you this
worked up?”
“He’s Zibulo,” I say.
Confusion dwells on her face.
“Huh?”
“The friend I’ve been talking to, that’s him
with a fake Facebook account.” Sigh! “In fact
I don’t know if I chatted to the fake him or I
fucked the fake him. I don’t know who’s real
between Mlaba and Zibulo, all I know is that I
want nothing to do with him, whoever he is,
nor his interest of doing business together.”
“Wait, so he chatted with you as the Zibulo
guy and approached you in person as the
Mlaba everyone knows? And why is he calling
himself Zibulo on Facebook….Ok, that
doesn’t matter I was StrawberryLips on Mxit,
but I’m confused why he didn’t just tell you
that you’ve been talking on Facebook the
day he saw you.”
I’m laughing with tears flowing down.
“Because Zibulo was in my life, Ntoko. I
vented to him, I told him my deepest secrets
and worst fears. He literally knows
everything about me.”
“I’m sorry sisi,” she says offering me a one-
arm hug.

“Why is she crying?” Aunt Flora walks in. It’s

too late for me to wipe my tears.
She sighs, “I bet it’s a boy. Men cheat
Thando, all of them. That’s why we wanted
you to choose someone from church,
someone whose family your father knows
and trusts. Durban boys will break your
heart!”
“But not all men cheat aunty. Some just lie
and destroy the trust you have in them,” –
Ntoko.
“All men cheat Nontokomalo. Ask me, your
uncle has cheated on me nine times since we
got married. That’s the consequence of
marrying someone outside your religion.”
This is new information to us. So her husband
has been cheating, the whole Malum’
Bongani with his pot-belly! Not just once or
twice, but nine times.
“Why are you still with him?” Ntoko asks.
“He’s my husband, I chose him and this is
what I have to live with,” she says with a
shrug.
I feel sorry for her because, really, nobody
has to live with someone who hurt them on
daily basis just because she stood in front of
the priest with him and said ‘I do.’
“You will calm down and talk to him about
it,” she pats my shoulder and walks away.
That was a pretty bad advice but whatever. I
ignore the phone ringing in the purse on top
of the counter and head to the living room to
distract myself with some TV.

I’m trying to focus on the thing playing on TV

but my mind is on the honest conversations
I’ve had with Zibulo. I didn’t know his face
but everything about him seemed real, the
way he cared and talked to me. I thought he
really cared, not even once did I ever
question him. He’s one person I felt free with,
I didn’t mind sharing my world with him.
I think Mercy knows something, she wasn’t
smiling because she just smashed him. She
was just looking at the fool and her sending
me around and testing my peace at the party
was probably planned. I can’t believe one
person can be twisted to this extent.

Ntoko is calling me from the kitchen. I ignore

her and read messages between me and
Zibulo over and over again. I feel so stupid.
“Thando!” she’s entering the living room.
I turn my head and see fear in her eyes. I
raise my eyebrow in question.
“There’s a car outside, it’s him,” she says.
“What? How did he find your house?” I’m
both scared and mad. So he’s a professional
stalker.
Aunt Flora walks in and looks at both of us
with curiosity.
“Aunty this man is harassing me,” I tell her, I
desperately need rescue from this creep.
“The one who made you cry? Where is he?”
She may be one of Jesus’ long distance
cousins but nobody messes with Florence
and lives to tell the tale.
I’m glad she didn’t leave. We are heading
outside, she’s pulled her skirt above her
knees, we are the Zwane army.

He sees us coming and steps out of the car.

His eyes are on me regardless of the harsh
scolding he’s receiving from my aunt. We are
getting closer, before I know it Aunt Flora’s
crocs fly to his shoulder. Ntoko gasps and
holds me back, we didn’t expect anything
crazy like this.
“You go around playing with girls’ feelings?
Huh?” Aunt Flora’s hand lands on his arm. He
covered his face and avoided the clap.
My jaw is on the ground! Yes I hate him so
much right now, but we can’t be beating
millionaires, lawyers are expensive. I also
think Aunt Flora is now giving him the
beating on behalf Malum’ Bongani and all
men in South Africa.
“What if you come back to her with diseases
from all the girls you cheat on her with?” –
Aunt Flora.
She needs to be stopped! Mlaba is just
shielding his face. Oh, it’s Zibulo.
“Aunty wait,” I say and she looks at me. “He
didn’t cheat on me, he’s not my boyfriend.”
“You said he cheated, I found you crying in
Ntoko’s kitchen,” she insists.
“I didn’t say he cheated,” I say.
She frowns, hands on the hips. “Then why
am I beating him?”
Well, you tell us.
I clear my throat, “He created a fake
Facebook account and…”
“Thandoluhle don’t tell me I’m beating this
boy because of Facebook drama?” Now she’s
angry at me.
“It’s not just a drama aunty, he stalked me
and lied about who he was. His profile
said…”
“Mxm! Come inside my boy, I’ll make you a
cup of tea and apologize properly.”
I look at Ntoko, this is her house, she needs
to stop them. I don’t want Mlaba or whoever
he is here.

CHAPTER 10
THANDO ZWANE
I stand in the middle of the kitchen with my
arms folded. A part of me wants to leave but
I also want to be here to tell my side of the
story.
She led him to the living room. Ntoko
decided not to call her into order. I thought
she was on my side, that she understood
why I say I don’t want to see this man ever
again.
“Thando make two cups!” Aunt Flora yells
from the living room.
I’m being tested here. So she wants me to
make tea for the man I’m trying to walk away
from? She said she’d apologize with a cup of
tea for beating him, why am I now on tea
duty for the promises I never made?
But she’s Florence, a girl who’s been cheated
on nine times and still going strong, if I don’t
obey tomorrow my parents and their church
friends would be here to pray for the demon
living in me.
I plug the kettle of water and prepare the
cups. I doubt he drinks tea but I will make it,
a black one with half teaspoon of sugar.
Ntoko walks in. I can’t believe she’s a guest
in her own house, she’s allowing Florence to
bully her.
“Gosh that was wild, did you see how she
threw those crocs at him?” She’s finding
humor in this. Aunt Flora embarrassed me,
she doesn’t ask before she attacks. If it was
someone else we would be organizing bail
money by now.
“I wish she could’ve beaten him harder,” I
say.
She gives me an eye roll. “Says someone
who stopped her. Your water is ready, go
before she gives him the date to come and
pay lobola.”
I gather the cups on the tray. “I don’t even
know who’s here; Zibulo or Mlaba.”
She laughs, “Just hear him out. He looks like
a humble guy.”
Humble guy my foot! I take the tea to the
living room. Aunt Flora is making him watch
Dumisa, good.

I put his cup in front of him. It doesn’t have

sugar. I did that on purpose, my sister works
hard to buy her sugar, it can’t be wasted on
liars. He acknowledges me with desperate
eyes.
“Sit Thandoluhle,” Aunt Flora instructs.
I sit with a yawn. I don’t want to resolve this,
Aunt Flora is no counselor, she’s got her own
problems that she’s running away from.
“How long have you known him?” she asks.
“I don’t know who he is aunty,” I say.
She looks at Zibulo with a slight frown.
“Didn’t you just tell me you are together?”
My eyes widen. Together as one? Since
when?
“I love her,” he declares.
That’s not what he was asked!
I turn as he also turns his eyes to me. Fuck, I
hate that I recognize something in his eyes. I
should be breathing fire, it should blaze from
my eyes, nothing else.
Aunt Flora is smiling. “Thando my child, don’t
allow stupid Facebook to come between you.
Look how he looks at you!”
In my mind I’m rolling my eyes.
“Now tell me my boy, do you go to church?”
Here comes the deal-breaking question.
“No, he doesn’t,” I waste no time telling her.
They’re both widely gazing at me. He’s
shocked, Aunt Flora is disappointed- if he
doesn’t go to church then he’s not the one.
“I do go to church,” he argues.
That’s a white lie!
“Really? Which verse was read the last time
you were in church?” Aunt Flora asks.
I cross my legs and wait. This I need to hear,
does he even know Jesus’ mother? I doubt.
He looks at me confidently before turning his
eyes back to Aunt Flora.
“Colossians 3:13; Bearing with one another,
and forgiving each other, whoever has a
complaint against anyone; just as the Lord
forgave you, so should you.”
Wrong move! I don’t get bullied by Bible
verses.
“I’m not the Lord, don’t expect me to do
what he does in his heaven,” I tell him.
Aunt Flora decides to inserts herself,
somehow she’s sold by this man’s pretense.
“That verse has seen me through the most,
my son. Whenever my husband and I…” Oh
Lord, save us. She’s telling him about her
marital problems and how a mere verse is
still gluing her marriage together.
“I hope you’re different from other men,” she
says in conclusion.
“I hope so too,” he says.
“Don’t hope son, be different.” She looks at
the cup in his hand and frowns, “Drink your
tea before it gets cold.”
He takes a sip, snaps his eyebrows and looks
at me. I keep my eye sharp, sparing him no
chance to complain.
“How is it? Thando is bad at everything but
not making tea.”
He forces a smile, “It’s good.”
“Drink up!” Aunt Flora encourages.
I’m having a celebration in my head. He’s so
uncomfortable drinking black tea with no
enough sugar. Honestly this is nothing
compared to what he did to me but I’m
happy, just a bit.

I collect the cups after they are done, the

intention was to leave them in the kitchen
and not come back. But Aunt Flora asks me
to walk Zibulo out.
This time I stand my grounds.
“I don’t want anything to do with Mlaba or
Zibulo, whatever his name is. He’s drank the
apology tea, now he needs to leave.”
She puts her hands up. “Let me go and drink
my meds. Go well, my son.”
She leaves me with him. I don’t know how
he’s so lucky, if it was anyone else my aunt
would’ve chased him out for merely looking
my direction without paying cows.
He stands and steps forward. Looking at him
in the eyes bring back the pain I’m feeling all
because of his lies.
“Thando I’m sorry,” he says.
Sorry is not going to fix this. I lock tears back
in my eyelids and continue looking at him.
“It’s complicated...my life, identity and
everything. But I didn’t lie about my feelings
for you and I will never use anything you told
me on Facebook against you. I will be your
pillar of strength and best friend, if you allow
me to. I’m still Zibulo and I’m Mlaba too.”
“And you don’t think anything is abnormal
with that?” Fuck these tears, I’m stronger
than this.
“Please give me a chance, get to know me,
then you can walk away if I’m really not what
you’re looking for.”
“Were you ever going to tell me?” I ask.
He can’t answer. Sigh!
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“My house, if you’re okay with that,” he says.
I exhale heavily, mentally kicking my own
ass for being so gullible.
I pick my purse and follow him out. We bump
into Ntoko whose eyes are wide with
curiosity.
“I will call you,” I tell her.
She glances at him and back at me with a
smile. “Owkaay, bye.”
I don’t know why they like him, they never
like anyone, it’s probably money.
-
-
I’m back here, I didn’t think I’d ever set my
foot here but it hasn’t even been two hours
and look who’s back.
Back in his living room and seated with my
purse on the lap.
He’s standing and staring down at me. I hold
his stare until he heaves a sigh and lowers
beside me.
“I don’t have a home,” that’s where he
begins.
Imagine a millionaire telling you he’s
homeless, would you be sorry for him? I’m
not.
“I’m a royal prince, I suppose,” he says.
This one raises my eyebrows. What does he
mean ‘he suppose?
“Your father was a king?” I ask.
“Yeah, he was. And I’m the first son, izibulo
as the name says. But he denied me because
my mother didn’t know she was pregnant
with me and she didn’t show until she gave
birth a week after being kicked out of the
royal house for being unable to conceive.
Somehow after he died I was appointed by
the ancestors as the next king but I denied. I
walked away and never looked back. When
my mother died I had no reason keeping any
part of the real Zibulo with me.”
I suppose he hates his paternal family, I get
where he’s coming from.
“Then why didn’t you just approach me as
Mlaba, the person you’re comfortable as,
than to create a Facebook account and pull
this creepy act?”
“I don’t know, I was scared, I didn’t have
enough courage to just approach you and tell
you I love you. I’ve never done anything like
that in my life. I’m scared of losing people
and rejection. I had my first rejection at 7
days old.” He’s not looking at me but hearing
his voice I can tell how scared he really is.
How uncomfortable he is telling me this.
“So you’d rather be isolated than to put
yourself out there for love?” I ask.
“I know how it’s like not to have anything, to
be alone when everyone you love is gone.
It’s not a place I’d like to put anyone in. I also
don’t want to ever experience that pain
again, so I stay with my guard up all the
time.”
Heavy sigh!
Fine, I get it.
“I need a drink,” I tell him.
He nods, goes to the kitchen and comes back
with a glass of juice. I didn’t mean juice but
anyway…
“Did my aunt hurt you?” I ask.
He cracks up and laughs. It’s my first time
hearing his laugh and I can’t help but laugh
too.
“She did. Her hands can slap! But it’s nothing
because I got compensated with a cup of
sugarless tea and got you here.”
I laugh, “I’m very petty, that’s how I am. But
it seemed like you were enjoying your tea.”
“Enjoy? I’m not a tea person but I didn’t want
to be in your aunt’s bad side.”
“She’s not a wild person, at least not to that
extent. She’s stressed by her husband, that’s
what you men specialize at.”
His gaze soften as he looks at me with a
smile teasing his lips. “Are you including
me?”
“Yes, Mr Fake Facebook Profile,” I say.
“But it’s not fake, I used my real name,” he
argues.
I shake my head at my own stupidity. “Why
didn’t I suspect anything? You were weird,
almost like you didn’t even know how to use
Facebook. Who punctuates on Facebook?
The way you use words so formally and
sometimes use wrong emojis should’ve
raised my eyebrows.”
“I guess you were not meant to question
anything. It’s destiny, even though I messed
it up,” he says.
“Destiny? What if I leave you or die, aren’t
you scared anymore?” I ask.
He drags in a deep breath and lifts his eyes
to me. Now I think they’re sexy, he looks
naturally turned on. “Can I trust you?”
The irony, I should be asking him that but I
guess it’s a relevant question.
“Yes,” I say without giving it a second
thought.
He pulls me closer and plants a soft peck on
my cheek. Our eyes meet, that bubbly
feeling is still there, I think I’ve fallen in love
here.
“Can we take things slow?”
My family already knows about him but okay.
“Alright,” I say.
“Alright…Thandolwami, is that how I should
call you now instead of Ms Zwane?”
“It sounds nice but we are taking things slow,
no ownership and entitlement yet.”
He chuckles, “Fair enough. How about going
out together and having sex?”
“Sex? Oh yeah, I think that would help us
know each other better,” I say.
“Why do I feel like I’m with a sex freak? The
things you did to me…nc nc!”
I choke on the juice laughing. Only if he knew
how shy I am in bed, I don’t know what wild
animal took over me that night.
“Let’s go out and have something to eat in
Fields Hill then I will drive you back, if you
want to leave,” he says and looks at me with
his eyebrow slightly raised.
“Today has been exhausting, I’d love to go
home and rest.”
“I have a bed too,” he says.
“You’ll have to invite me properly to that
bed,” I say standing up and putting my
jacket on. Wait, before I forget…
“Mercy was here earlier,” I’m looking at him,
ready to fight him if necessary.
“She’s just my favorite employee,” he says
smiling.
“Favourite?” I raise my eyebrow.
“Mercy is Mercy, I know you’ll like her too
once you get to know her better.” He pulls
my hand and gives it a tight squeeze.
“There’s nothing happening between us.
She’s like a sister I don’t need, very annoying
but loving.”
“Annoying, I agree,” I say, sending him to a
fit of laughter.
-
-
We are having dinner at The Hussar Grill,
he’s having a whole cow. I’m kidding, but
he’s eating enough steak for two people. It’s
not a crowded place, the few people dining in
are minding their business, there’s so much
privacy and peace.
“Mercy said I will never eat at restaurants
again once you’re in my life. I guess this is
goodbye to The Hussar.”
This Mercy is very forward.
“So she thinks I’m just a catering girl?” I ask
imitating her.
“No, she was just ruffling your feathers by
that attitude.” The way he likes this Mercy
girl!
“Am I going to compete with her?” I ask.
He smiles, “Get to know me Thando.”
“Always remember my aunt is Florence,
cheated on nine times and still going strong,
don’t get on her bad side.”
He laughs. I mean it, one mistake and he will
be getting those crocs thrown at him.

I leave the table to use the bathroom and

check if my nose still looks good. There’s an
old woman coming out, I bump into her by
my shoulder and quickly apologize.
Her eyes meet mine and she stops, “I saw
you sitting on the table with your husband.”
“He’s not my husband, just a boyfriend.” I’m
suddenly shy, the frown on her face!
“Oh, I thought you’re married,” she says and
takes a brief pause. “He’s not yours, just
keep that in mind.”
Here comes the drama, first day in a
relationship and I’m already bumping into
bitter ex-girlfriends mothers.
“I’m sorry, but who are you to tell me that?”
The corners of her eyes crinkle, she smiles
but it doesn’t have her heart in it.
“You don’t know me, neither does he. Just
hear what I’m saying so that when the time
comes you’ll be ready. He belongs to the
people, his people and, one day they will
come and fetch him. It won’t be nice
mntanami, prepare yourself,” she walks out.
I’m not sure I understand anything she
meant but she’s successfully instilled a seed
of fear. I feel my palms sweating a bit, what
am I getting into?

CHAPTER 11
ZIBULO

He knew he couldn’t live without her, at least

not without a fight. They’re together now, his
fears are slowly subsiding, his heart has
smiled more than his lips in the last two
hours. That’s the kind of effect she has on
him.
Everything was good, they ate and kissed,
they were happy, until she went to the
bathroom and came back looking shaken.
She hasn’t raised anything though, so he’s
hoping it’s nothing that has to do with him.
She said Ntoko would bring her car so he’s
dropping her off at her house.
He holds her hand before she opens the
door. Their eyes meet, there’s fear in her
eyes, he’s confused.
“Did I do anything wrong?” he asks with
worry.
“No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” she says
cracking a feebly smile.
“Please just tell me, I don’t want to ruin us
again,” he begs.
Thando takes a deep breath. This will sound
crazy, she shouldn’t be taking things said by
strangers to her heart.
“I bumped into a woman in the bathroom at
the restaurant,” she says.
He frowns. He knows very well that his
history with women issues is clean.
“And what did she say?” he enquires with his
brows snapped.
“She said you don’t know her and she didn’t
say if she knows you either. But she said,
with so much confidence, that you don’t
belong to me, you belong to your people and
one day they will come and fetch you, and it
will be heart breaking.”
He looks confused, he doesn’t know what
that means either.
“How did she look like?” he asks.
“She’s mature, dark skinned, with a sharp
nose and a big body. I didn’t dwell on her
looks too much,” Thando says.
“I don’t know who that could be and I don’t
know what she’s talking about. Who are my
people?” Worry lines etch on his face.
“Maybe the people you were supposed to
lead as a king,” she’s just guessing wildly.
“They can’t fetch me, unless if she wasn’t
talking about living people.”
Her pupils dilate, now they’re getting into
horror, aren’t they?
“Like ghosts?” she asks.
“No, ancestors. The Dunga ones, they did
fetch my umbilical cord from my mother,” he
says.
“How did they fetch it?” She’s confused.
“I have no idea, it disappeared and I hear it
was found in the Dunga kraal years later.”
She pulls her hand from his and pushes back
the few strands of hair off her face.
“But they can’t fetch me Thando. I mean
what have they been waiting for all these
years? It’s not like I can be picked by some
ghosts to the village.” It sounds like he’s
convincing himself more than her.
“Are you sure Mlaba…I mean Zibulo?” she
asks.
Deep breath! “I’m sure, nothing is going to
happen.”
She nods and smiles as he plants a wet kiss
on her lips. She wraps her hand around his
neck and pulls him for a deeper kiss.
He looks at her affectionately, loving her the
way he never thought he could love a human
being.
“Can I ask nicely that you come to my house
tomorrow night? I owe you one, remember.”
“Of course I remember,” she smiles and
kisses his lips one more time, feeling warm
and safe in his arms.
“So you’re coming?”
“Yeah, I’m coming. You can go to the best
herbalist you know and ask for ‘ibhubesi
lombhede’, the lion of bed concoction or
anything strong along those lines.”
He cracks up loud. Thando is slowly but
surely breaking the walls around him. He’s
never laughed this much in one day and
became so carefree and happy.
^
^
^
The Thando effect subsides as he gets to his
house and thinks deeply about what the
woman said to her at the restaurant. His
mother told him stories growing about how
ruthless the Dunga ancestors were when
protecting his father, the king, Menzi. Most of
them were scary. But in all that they never
protected him, not even once. He fought to
be where he is and it is by Mngoma, his
maternal grandfather that he has this
financial freedom he has today. The Dungas
have never done a thing for him, even when
they knew he was one of them they never
came to claim him. So why now should he
live his life in fear with his girlfriend, the first
woman he’s truly loved?
He wishes he can talk to someone but none
of his friends know this part of his life, he’d
have to tell them everything and he has no
inclination for that.
It’s either he tries to stop them before they
come or just wait and deal with it if it
happens.
He needs to reset his emotions, tomorrow is
a big night.
^
^
^
NTOKO ZWANE

I haven’t summed up the courage to ask

Aunt Flora when she’s leaving my house. It
will sound as if I’m kicking her out, which
would cause a lot of noise in the family. So I
can’t even have Zamani coming over, to
spend time with him I have to go to his
house, which I highly doubt is safe for me. I
thought of a hotel but then I wouldn’t be the
one booking and paying just to spend time
with a man.
I have packed my overnight, now I’m trying
to think what I’m going to tell this woman.
She understands that Thando has a boyfriend
and she likes him, but mine would be a
different story because Zamani would never
drink tea and watch Dumisa with her, he’s
unapologetically who he is. Aunt Flora would
sniff his thuggish lifestyle from a mile away.

She walks into my room before I can think of

anything. Trust me, even in school I
struggled with essays, my creativity juices
don’t flow at all.
“Where are you going at night with the
bags?” she asks, walking in without
knocking.
I’m the one they’re too comfortable with and
that can be annoying at times.
“I’m going to sleep at Thando’s place, I need
to make sure she’s okay.” Oh wow, amazing!
I pat myself at they back for such a solid lie.
“Please call me when you’re with her, I want
to speak to her,” she says.
See why I hate lying, lies just complicate
your life.
“Okay, I will.” I pick my bag and look at her. I
have to lock my room when I leave, who
knows how much snooping she’d do in my
absence?

I call Thando before I drive off, she needs to

cover up for me.
She answers, “Zibulo’s girlfriend, hello.”
I knew she’d forgive him.
“Why do I feel like this Zibulo is about to
become a chorus we hear everyday?”
She laughs, “You were mocking me for being
single. Now I’m taken and tomorrow
promises to be a good night.”
“TMI, I’m still your younger sister, don’t
traumatize me please. Look I need a favor,
wait for an hour or so and then call Aunt
Flora and pretend I’m there with you but
tired.”
“Are you going to gangsta-bae?” she asks.
“His name is Zamani,” I say.
“Oh, sis is in love. Send him our pictures so
that he knows who not to touch.” Aren’t we
such a judgmental family? I’m including
myself.
“Just do that Thando and then focus on your
two-in-one boyfriend.” I say and drop the call
while she’s still laughing.
Obviously I didn’t break up with Zamani as I
had initially planned. I don’t think that’s still
an option, I have fallen in love with his ability
to make me feel special. I want more of him,
of his time and touch. I know no one from my
family is going to like him but why should I
care, I have to do what makes me happy and
at this moment it’s him.
^
^
^
Essenwood is where I’ve come to deliver the
vajayna today. I’m fetched from the ground
floor with a bunch of flowers. You can tell
from how one holds the flowers that he’s not
doing something he’s used to.
“Hey sweerie,” he’s loud enough for
everyone to hear.
Here comes that attention. A smile spreads
on my face, I walk to him and melt in his hug.
“Your beautiful flowers,” he gives them to
me and takes my bag.
He lives in a two-bedroom flat with a friend.
It looks clean, I hope it always like this. I pass
food containers stacked on top of the kitchen
counter and I know I will never experience
home-cooked meal made by a boyfriend.
“Welcome to my tiny shack, this is where I
hide my head.”
“Where is home?” I can’t believe I’m only
seeing the need to ask now.
“This is home, there’s another one, Tusani’s
house,” he’s pulling me to the bedroom. I
don’t even get a little tour around. Flowers
were his only attempt of being romantic.
“Your parents?” I ask.
“Those died when we were very young. I got
here, made a living and went back to fetch
my brother from my aunt. So we’ve been
here, in Durban, for twenty two years.”
“Are you happy here?” I think that’s what
makes a house a home, happiness.
“Now I’m happy, you’re here,” he says taking
his black vest off.
I lower myself on the bed next to my bag and
stare at his tattoos. I grew up knowing they
attract Satan, this is the first thing that would
put my family off, and he has a lot of them.
I notice that when he smiles his left upper
cheek forms a shallow dimple.
He leans down to kiss me. I kiss him back
and breaks it before he gets too deep. I’m
not here to get fucked before I even get a
drink.
“How was your day today?” he asks, staring
down at me.
“There’s nothing I can complain about,” I
say.
“Not even missing your boyfriend?” he asks
with a smirk.
“Well, that I can, I missed you that’s why I’m
here. However I think you need to keep my
flowers somewhere, take me back to the
lounge and offer me a drink,” I say.
He’s embarrassed but he laughs.
“I’m sorry, let’s go. Do you need to change?
Wear my T-shidt, maybe?” It sounds like he’s
suggesting it.
“Yeah, you can give me one,” I say.
He gets me his cap-sleeve T-shirt and asks
that I just wear it with nothing but my
underwear. I think I know where this is going,
but I do it, it feels like I’m walking around
naked. But I’m not a deacon’s daughter here,
I’m a thug’s girlfriend and I have to do what
thug’s girlfriends do.

He comes back with a sealed bottle of water,

LiquiFruit juice carton with a glass, a can of
cold drink, another glass with square
chopped cucumber and a bowl of ices. Talk
about an exaggeration! He could’ve just
asked me what I want to drink.
“I will have juice but the water can stay too,”
I say.
“When should I dish up?”
“After I’ve taken a shower Zamani.”
“But I thought you’d take the shower after
I’ve…” He inserts his right middle finger into
his linked thumb and index fingers. The last
time someone did this to me I was in high
school and it was creepy. It’s still creepy but
I’m turned on, my body is very
understanding when it comes to this one.
“No, that’s not going to happen,” I say.
He chuckles, “Why do I feel like you don’t
love me the way I think you do?”
“Sex delayed is not sex denied Zamani,” I
say.
“But do you love me?”
“Yes, I love you,” I say without a doubt. I’m
not sure if the definition fits what I have for
him but I want to be with him.
“Okay, so I guess you won’t leave me if I tell
you that I’m a criminal, just not the way you
think I am.”
He’s admitting to crime but I’m still sitting
here, sipping his juice and looking at him
with adoring eyes.
“What crime are you involved in?” I ask.
“We counterfeit jewelries and watches big
brands,” he says. It doesn’t look like he cares
that much or hopes to change one day.
“How much money do you make for fake
jewelry?” I ask, sadly I don’t sound
disappointed either.
“A lot, especially in India. The US also has a
great market but their systems are too
tight,” he says.
I don’t know why I’m laughing, he’s
scamming people. “Are the chains you wear
fake too?”
“No, I sell fake so that I can afford to wear
original,” he says.
“Is your brother involved too?” I ask.
“Yes, it’s a family business,” he says.
He’s such a hopeless case!
^
^
^
He’s set up our dinner, it looks romantic,
even two white candles were brought out. He
didn’t cook it but I feel special.
“So what are your expectations of this
relationship?” he asks.
I didn’t expect such question, I sip water and
put my fork down. “I’m still going to think
about it, for now I just want us to be happy
together.”
“So you’ll be surprised if I tell you I’ve
already thought about it and I expect
marriage and kids from this? I’ve never had a
big family, not as far as I remember. So one
of my dreams is having a family…with you.”
“That’s a beautiful dream but I think if you
want to be a family man you have to change
some of your ways. I’m not preaching, just
saying.”
He chuckles, “Don’t worry, no offense taken
sweerie.”
“So your actions will determine if you can
have a family or not,” I say.
He nods and drops his stare to my lips. I’m
chewing, he’s making me uncomfortable.
“What determines if I kiss you now or not?”
he asks.
“Nothing,” I say.
He walks around the table and leans over for
his kiss. His lips are addictive, I keep wanting
more.
There’s a knock at the door, whoever he is
not patient or here for a friendly visit.
One move and I will wet my underwear. I
should’ve listened to my instincts and not
come here.
He begs me to sit where I am while he goes
to the door with the gun I don’t even know
he took where and how.
A woman’s angry voice roars in. “Really
Zamani, I was not gone even for a week and
you couldn’t keep your pants up?”
I can stand his bullshit; counterfeiting
brands, importing them illegally to other
countries and all. But this is not something I
will stand for, it will destroy everything I’m
trying to build.
“Sweerie please don’t go,” he runs after me
leaving a roaring girlfriend behind.
I’m glad I didn’t unpack my bag.

CHAPTER 12
NTOKO ZWANE
I’m not strong like Thando and Setha, I’m not
imbokodo, I’m human, when people hurt me I
bleed. I get home safe, with a blurry vision
and trembling hands on the steering wheel. I
didn’t wait for his explanation, the girl’s
suitcase said it all, she probably lives there
with him. I feel played, I was ready to take
my chance with him regardless of our
differences. Damn, I even told my sisters
about him. Not that I ever hide anything from
them.
I use the backdoor getting in, I was hoping
Aunt Flora would be asleep but the TV is still
playing. I just hope she doesn’t hear me
coming in, which is stupid because she
probably heard the car driving in.
She appears, tiptoeing with a wooden spoon
behind her. When she sees me she stops and
releases a huge breath.
“One day you’re going to give me a heart
attack, I thought it was a…” She pauses,
gathers her brows and steps closer. I drop
the bag on the floor and sit on it and cry.
“What happened Ntoko? Talk to me, did you
fight with your sister?” she asks.
I can’t answer her, it feels like my chest is
holding a huge rock instead of a heart. I can’t
believe I let a scammer do this to me. How
do you trust the love of a man who fakes
jewelry for a living anyway.
“Ay maarn Ntoko, why are you naked?” –
Aunt Flora.
Yes I drove all the way from Essenwood to
Umlazi in Zamani’s T-shirt and black thong.
There was no time to change or clear my
thoughts, I just needed to leave as soon as I
could and that’s what I did.
“Did you fight with your sister?” she asks.
I shake my head, my lie has caught up with
me very fast.
She’s calling Thando. I don’t care, I let her
talk to her, I don’t know what Thando is
telling her but when she drops the call she
looks disappointed.
“Why did you lie?” She’s questioning me in
my own house.
“This is my house Aunty and I’m not a child
anymore.”
She chuckles, “Oh, now you have money
you’re no longer a child? Tell me, did the boy
hurt you?”
I wipe the tears and take a deep breath to
collect myself.
“Not physically,” I say.
She sighs, we are tiring, all she’s been doing
since she came here is comfort our broken
hearts. Firstly it was Thando ,now it’s me.
She lifts me off the floor and leads me to the
kitchen stool. It’s tea time, the Zwane
therapy, she boils water and tosses tea-bags
in the cups.
“Milk?”
I shake my head.
She gets one plate for cookies and comes sit
next to me.
“Tell me about him,” she says.
I don’t even know where to begin. How him
and I met would lead me into explaining the
type of a person he is. I don’t know what it is
but I don’t want to ruin his reputation, I’m
not the person who speaks ill of others, even
those who hurt me the most.
“He seemed genuine, on my birthday he took
me out for ice-cream and threw me a braai in
the park. He promised me I was his only one,
that he wants a future with me. It turns out it
was all a lie, there’s a woman in his life. I
guess I gave him the platform to hurt me
because I forgave too many excuses he
made.” I lift my eyes to her and she’s
attentively looking at me. “Why do men
cheat Aunty?”
She drags in a deep breath and shakes her
head. “They are not grateful beings, that’s by
nature. At least I’m fat, I don’t have
attractive waist and skinny legs, but you,
why would anyone cheat on you? You have
your own money, car and house. And you are
so beautiful!”
I smile shedding a few tears. I have never
had any intimate bonding moment with my
aunt like this. A loud knock disturbs us. I
have no idea who could be looking for me at
this time ,and how did they get through the
gate because I locked it?
The door bangs harder, Aunt Flora instructs
me to sit while she arms up with a wooden
spoon. She tiptoes to the door and leans
against it.
“Who is it?” she asks.
“Can I see Ntoko?” that’s all he says.
Not another Zibulo situation! He’s got to be
kidding me.
Aunt Flora looks at me. There’s no way I’m
talking to that scammer, I shake my head.
“She doesn’t want to talk to you, go away,”-
Aunt Flora.
“Tell he I’m begging,” he says in a not-so-
begging voice.
“Am I your messenger?” Aunt Flora is
annoyed.
“Sweerie, please come out and listen to me.”
I’m shaking my head, Aunt Flora must not
open that door.
“I’m her aunt, I’m 44 years old, don’t
disrespect me,” she says firmly.
I see the door handle moving violently, he’s
trying to open by force. Aunt Flora starts
screaming at him. It gets crazy, my door is
being broken, he’s kicking it and calling my
name.
I’m ready to kill his ass. I jump off the stool
and go to the door and open before he
breaks it.
He storms in with bloodshot-eyes and sweaty
forehead.
He disregards Aunt Flora standing between
him and I. “Swirathy, I can explain, please
listen to me.”
“Go away, don’t disrespect my aunt
Zamani!”
He looks at her, “Askies MaAntiza, I won’t do
anything to her, I just want to rectify the
situation.”
“Are you deaf? She’s telling you to leave,”
Aunt Flora scowls. She’s close to throwing
shoes.
He looks at me, I do not see the gentleness I
always receive from his soft stares, I still
don’t know how he got inside the gate.
“Leave,” I tell him.
“You said we are in a relationship, we are
supposed to talk, I just want you to hear me
out.”
“No!” I say.
Aunt Flora gives him a look, he needs to
leave.
He doesn’t, instead his hand reaches behind
his waist and comes back with a gun.
I don’t know how Aunt Flora was able to jump
from the front and hide behind me.
“Let’s go,” he’s not begging, his finger is on
the trigger.
I see no doubt in his eye that he’d pull that
trigger if not obeyed. I press my thighs
together to stop the pee burning and
threatening to break out. I always heard
stories about dating thugs and not even once
did I thought I’d be in this situation.
My knees are trembling, as I get to the door
he pulls my legs and scoops me up in a
single swift. Aunt Flora starts screaming for
help when he exits the gate and gets in his
car with me. I’m not crying, all I’m thinking
about is my family and how shattered they
would be at my funeral. I might die before we
even get where he’s taking me, he’s driving
like a maniac, my lungs have spread out of
my skin. The gun is placed between the
seats, he keeps glancing at me and applying
more energy to the engine.

I’m back to his flat without a will. He’s

walking behind me as I find my way to the
lift, my heart has been beating drums since I
saw the gun, now it just feels like I’m close to
a heart attack. He’s glaring at me in the lift,
my eyes are glued to the floor, I’m praying to
die immediately and not feel too much pain.
He steps out first, I follow him and wait
holding my breath as he unlocks the door.
My heart almost stops when I find the same
woman I left for wrapped in a fleece blanket
watching TV. I was stupid to think he was in
my house to tell me he broke up with her.
She seems surprised to see me back too.
Before neither one of us can say anything he
instructs her to sit as she was. He turns his
gaze to me and points his head to the
bedroom.
We get in and he closes the door behind us.
He tosses the gun in one of the drawers and
comes back taking his jacket off. Okay, he’s
not shooting me yet.
He stands in front of me and lifts my chin up
with his finger.
“When you see me what do you see?”
My stomach turns.
“A human being,” I say with a hard swallow.
“An insane human being, right?”
Cover me my Lord!
“No, I didn’t say that.”
“You just show it, huh?”
Any answer I say here will be wrong, I choose
silence.
“I had to take out a gun and look like a
murderer for you to give me a chance that
girlfriends give their boyfriends when there’s
a misunderstanding?”
Tears break free and flood my face. So it’s
my fault that he took out a gun in front of my
aunt and brought me here without a will?
“You said you love me,” I say between the
sobs.
“You said the same thing too but you left me
without even giving me a chance to plead my
case. What kind of love is that?”
“Maybe it’s the kind that ends with a woman
getting killed,” I don’t know where I’m
getting courage to say all this to him.
“I will never hurt you,” he says.
“Then what do you call this Zamani?” I point
to my tearful face. He’s already hurt me.
“I was desperate, I needed you to listen to
me.”
I don’t believe him but I won’t say much, just
to spare my life.
He sits and pulls me to sit next to him. He no
longer looks aggressive. But I’m not letting
my guard down.
“Queen is my ex who refuses to move on,”
he says.
“How is that in my favour? Why do you
expect me to understand and stay? She’s
here with her suitcases and talking about you
being together a week ago. I’ve had chicks
texting me and asking me to leave you, I’ve
had strangers asking me about your
whereabouts, and you still pull a gun on me
when I choose to be what you fail to make
me, happy.” I’m brave enough to look at him
in the eye as I ask.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“If you are really sorry Zamani you’d take me
home and apologize to my aunt.”
He’s quiet. Being with him was good, he got
me out of my comfort zone and made me
smile, but trust me I regret it with everything
in me.
“So you are not sorry, you are happy to see
me cry like this because of you?”
“Ntoko, I truly love you, I don’t know what to
say to make you believe me. I only allowed
her to stay overnight because she has
nowhere else to go and it’s late for a woman
to be on the streets alone,” he says.
I don’t believe a word.
The door shifts open, the Queen thing walks
in wearing a silky nightdress. She stands by
the door, completely ignores my presence
and looks at him.
“I want to sleep,” she says.
His arm snakes around my waist, I shrug it
off and feel him taking a deep breath.
“You are a guest, you will use the guest-
bedroom, Ntoko and I are sleeping here.”
Her pupils dilate, “Whaaat?”
“Queen don’t make me throw you out.
Where’s the maternity file I asked for?”
She doesn’t answer that, she just throws a
dirty look at me. I grew up a Christian, I’ve
never thrown hands and I don’t think I will
start now and fight over a man.
“Two months later you still think I’m just
pulling your leg when I say it’s over? Is it
because I’m kind?”
Kind? I need to confirm the meaning on the
dictionary.
“Two weeks ago you fucked me,” she says.
I feel my heart tearing apart. I turn my eyes
to him, two weeks ago we were together,
how could he?
“She’s lying,” he says. His eyes are coated
with fear, the unsteadiness in his voice
confirms what she’s saying, he did fuck her.
She laughs, “I’m lying? I was not even going
to come here, you called me and asked me
to come and give you some ass. And you
grind my back the whole night, not even
once did you remember that I should give
you the maternity file to prove that I was
pregnant with your baby. I can show her the
messages…” She scrolls down her phone, his
breaths are unsteady next to me.
“Queen! Do not test my patience,” he roars.
She doesn’t seem to care, she’s not scared of
him as I am.
“Oh, you’re going to shoot me?” She laughs
and looks at me before reading out loud the
messages;
*Hey Queen, you in town?…Pls come
over, I’m alone…I miss you, I want to
drill your tight ass all night…Request an
Uber, I will wait for you down, wear no
panties…* He charges towards her and
snatches the phone away. He’s grabbing her
and for a moment I think he’s going to hit
her, but he doesn’t, because she’s grabbed
his balls.
I’m still sitting with my legs crossed and lips
zipped.
“Queen let me go,” he’s saying harshly yet
begging.
She stands on her toes, the kiss lands right
on his lips. I’m watching Love and War here,
he cannot push her too hard because her
hand is still in his balls.
“We fucked two weeks ago Zamani and you
did make me pregnant before that, I lost the
baby,” she tells him before letting go.
He wipes his lips and looks at me. I don’t
know what he needs, sympathy or help,
anyway I remain seated.
He’s chasing her out, supposedly breaking up
with her again and vowing to hurt her if she
ever pulls another stunt.

It would’ve been better if he left me alone.

Maybe our issues would’ve been resolved in
some stages, but now he’s burnt all the
bridges and he knows it. He’s standing at the
door, I think she’s gone, and it looks like he
doesn’t know what to do now. I’d be damned
if I move an inch from this position or say a
word to him. I’m not even showing anger
because you know how light-skinned babies
change colour quickly. I’m not turning pink or
orange for him.
“I messed up,” he says.
I don’t say anything.
He walks in and sits, rubbing his hands
together.
He releases a sigh, scratches his nape and
releases another one again.
“Can I call Tusani over?”
I look at him, “Why?”
“Maybe you will understand when he says it,
he knows how much I love you, I told him
he’s going to have a place called home.” He
lifts his face to the ceiling and dabs the
corners of his eyes with his thumb. Am I not
the one who should be crying here? I didn’t
hurt him, he hurt me and topped it by pulling
a gun on me.
He continues, “I told him we will have decent
lives, that I will settle down and start a family
and we’d live normal lives. It’s something I
never considered before you, I really love
you, as messy as I am, I know I can turn a
new leaf and be a man you deserve, only…”
There’s a hard knock at the door. Queen
must be back. Sigh!
“If you want to go home today it’s okay, but
please talk to me and let me know what
you…”
The knock persists.
“Police!”
His eyes widen, he looks at me and frowns.
“Wait here,” he goes to the drawer and
comes back with the gun, throwing it under
the bed.
He walks out to open the door. The first voice
I hear is Thando’s, then Aunt Flora’s, I didn’t
expect this. How did they even find his
address?
“Ntoko, are you alright?” Thando is yelling.
I get off the bed and walk towards the door.
Zibulo is here too?
He turns his head back after he’s seen me,
“She’s here.”
My sister comes running to me.

CHAPTER 13
THANDO ZWANE
My night has turned into a compete
nightmare. I got a call from Aunt Flora who
was hysterical, apparently Ntoko’s hooligan
got in the house demanding for them to talk
and ended up pulling a gun to force her to
leave with him.
We had to involve the police, fortunately
finding his address and tracking them down
was easy. Zibulo’s Mlaba-influence was great
help, the police came in no time and took us
to his flat in Essenwood. She’s not hurt
anywhere, she still looks traumatized though.
I have asked Aunt Flora to slow down with a
million questions. She will talk to us when
she’s ready, that hooligan is going to sleep
nicely in his cold cell today, the police took
him, they found his gun hidden under the
bed. We have to make sure he stays in jail
for a very long time.

My father is calling, I leave her staring at the

hot cup of tea I just made her. Zibulo is
sitting with her. I step aside to answer the
call.
My parents haven’t slept a wink, knowing
how my mother is the whole community
probably knows by now.
“How is your sister?” he asks. You can tell
he’s stressed out where he is.
“She’s fine Mangethe, she’s home now and
we are here with her,” I say.
“Please make sure you don’t leave her alone,
we will be there tomorrow morning.” This
means I have to sleep here, Zibulo will leave
without me.
“Don’t worry Mangethe, tell Mama to sleep
as well, she’s safe,” I assure him before
ending the call.

Ntoko pushes the cup of tea away and looks

at me with disapproval. “Why did you involve
the police?”
I look at Zibulo, is he hearing this with me?
“He pointed a gun at you, duh,” I say.
“He took it out, he didn’t point it to anyone.
What if they send him to jail?” She’s better
than Trevor Noah at this comedy thing.
“That’s where he belongs,” I say.
Zibulo clears his throat, I look at him with my
eye narrowed.
“That’s where he belongs, he kidnapped her
and disrespected my aunt,” I emphasize.
“We panicked,” he says to Ntoko.
So he’s the one who can phrase it better?
“We didn’t know if you were still alive or not.
You could’ve been in danger, we needed to
involve the police,” he adds.
Ntoko is tearing up, she nods and pulls the
cup it tea, taking her first sip.
I don’t know if she appreciates us coming to
her rescue or not.
“You need to thank us. Zibulo has meetings
tomorrow but he’s here at this hour,” I give
her a reprimanding look.
She looks at him, “Thank you Zibulo.”
It doesn’t sound too genuine but the person
receiving it nods.

“I have to sleep here,” I tell him.

He expected it. “I understand, I’m going to
call you.”
“I love you,” I say.
He smiles. It still feels surreal that we are an
item, I’m over the speculations and fear. And
he really proved to care today. If a man
comes through for your family he’s for keeps.
I walk him out, I thought tonight I’d be
sleeping in my bed today, finally released
from all the stress, but circumstances proved
otherwise.
He engulfs me in a long hug with his lips
pressed on my forehead.
“I will call you baby,” he says.
I nod, I’m a bit sad he’s leaving, if Aunt Flora
wasn’t here we would’ve both slept here in
one of the rooms.
“Ungakhathazeki phela kakhulu. The guy is
in the holding cell, your sister is safe, nothing
is going to happen,” he says brushing my
cheeks and smiling down at me.
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” I say.
“Then what is it?” he asks.
I just look at him, if he can’t read my eyes
then I don’t know.
“Let’s go to the car,” he snatches my waist
and pulls me towards his car. He gets it.

We both get at the back. I initiate the kiss

while unbuttoning his shirt. After everything
that went down tonight I need something to
help me clear my head and he’s got that
thing between his legs. I’m still the deacon’s
daughter, a very shy girl who loves cooking,
this is just a moment of weakness. Yes, that’s
how it’s called.
My hands find his belt, I unbuckle it while
chasing his tongue and sucking his lower lip
like my life depends on it.
“Baby I thought you wanted me to just kiss
you properly,” he’s looking at me with a bit
of fear and hesitation.
“No Zibulo, I want you to fuck me really
quick, this is a crazy night, I need you,” I say.
“Thando we are in a car, in your sister’s yard,
your aunt is inside the house and…” He talks
too much, can’t he see I’m just taking my
chances? I shut him with a kiss and pull out
his warm member. He’s not there yet, I need
to give him a boost, so I lean down and lick
the head.
I feel him tensing up and press my tongue
and suck until his dick hardens and pops
veins and stands up. I start sucking and
going down really hard.
His hand is rubbing my back, he keeps
whispering sweet nothings. When he grips
my nape and breathes sharply I know he’s
more than ready.
I pull down my panty, leaving it hanging
around one ankle and I position myself onto
him. His hands wrap around me and link
behind my hips.
He helps me as I insert myself and start
moving around. His dick is so warm, there’s a
place it reaches and rubs so fuckin’ good. I’m
speaking in hushed tongues, offering myself
to him whenever he wants me.
His eyes are fixed on me, every expression
he makes reflect to the amount of pleasure
he’s getting from this.
“Do you like that baby?” I ask, moving my
hips in circles.
He shuts his eyes and curses in a soft tone,
“Oh, shit!”
I kiss his cursing lips. He impatiently breaks
the kiss and licks my earlobe around.
“Uyangichamisa sthandwa,” he whispers in a
shattering voice. (You’re making me cum)
Not today, he’s not going to rob me an
orgasm I cornered him for!
“Hold on baby, I’m almost there,” I say.
His jaws twitch, he grinds his teeth and holds
my waist tightly. I’m on top, I control where I
want to be pounded, I drop my head over his
shoulder and shut my eyes.
He spanks my butt cheeks, both of them and
spreads them apart. I feel the long-delayed
orgasm building up from my toes and bite his
shoulder to stop myself from screaming.
“Let’s cum together sthandwa,” he begs.
I explode before his words even ring a bell.
I’m panting heavily, the front of his pant is
wet with my juices.
He holds me down, his dick is buried into the
depths of my core. He’s locked the head into
my soft tissues and it’s breaking him apart.
“Please baby, let me shoot here,” he begs.
His horny voice sends a trail of tingles
throughout my body that’s just recovered
from the explosive orgasm.
“Okay baby,” I say.
He pushes twice and shoots inside me,
faintly calling my name with muffled moans.
I kiss him while he’s out of breath; licking
and sucking his lips until his arm wraps
around me.
“I love you, Mr Sneaky,” I say planting
another kiss on his nose and looking around
for something I can wipe my thighs with. I
can’t see anything, I just take off my own
panty and clean myself and leave it on his
lap.
I open the door and climb out before my aunt
comes out looking for me.

Ntoko is still sipping the cup of tea I left her

with.
“I will use your bathroom and your clothes,” I
tell her. She’s the reason I’m here without
any clothes.
Her silence is a yes, I rush to her room before
Aunt Flora sniffs the sex smell and starts
asking questions.
I wash my body in a very patient pace,
nursing my vagina lips that his pubic hair
scratched once again. I need to buy him hair-
remover tomorrow, if our night still stands.
What millionaire goes around with bush
around his dick?
“Thandooo!”
Aunt Flora couldn’t sleep without calling my
name, I step out if the bath and wrap a towel
above my chest and attend to her special
needs.

It’s Ntoko, she’s crying. I know my sister, she

can cry about this the whole week. I sit next
to her and hug her. I’m not sure what she’s
crying for, that she almost died or that her
hooligan is going to jail? I still don’t know
where she stands with this.
Aunt Flora goes back to the bedroom, I get a
chance to ask her what exactly is the
problem because the hooligan is going to be
locked up.
“I don’t understand. He showed me a
glimpse of love, the perfect kind of love that I
wanted to hold onto despite of the
differences we might’ve had. Men lie Thando,
at least for the first three months or so, they
pretend to be perfect. We’ve been together
for barely a month and he’s already showing
me his imperfections and giving me a reason
not to be with him regardless of everything
that we feel for each other.”
I heave a sigh, I have to be a big sister and
just be harshly truthful with her.
“When people show you their true colours
always believe them Ntoko,” I say.
She shakes her head, tears roll down her
cheeks. “He was sorry…I know I sound stupid
but he was. He was crying, he wanted us to
call his brother, the only family he has. In my
life I’ve never hated anyone like I hate him
right now, but then again I don’t want him to
get hurt.” She looks at me desperately,
“Does that make me stupid?”
Yes, it definitely does. But I rub her back and
tell her it’s complete normal to feel that way.
“I have to find his brother tomorrow morning
and tell him to go and bail him out.”
“What if he’s not granted bail? He was in
possession of an illegal firearm Ntoko.”
Fear dwells in her eyes. She didn’t know that,
did she?
“You don’t have to feel sorry for him, he
could’ve killed you and aunty here. Who
knows what could’ve happened if you didn’t
obey?”
-
-
NTOKO ZWANE

I haven’t slept a wink. I understand

everything Thando said and she was right.
Zamani might have said he was only
threatening me with a gun but heck, how is
that normal?
To clear my conscience I will go to Tusani
and see what I can help him with to get
Zamani out of jail, after that I will cut all ties
with them and move on.
I wake up before Aunt Flora, I’m in no mood
to explain myself. If I get delayed my parents
will find me here and that will mean I cannot
go out without anyone knowing where I’m
going.
I put on leggings and trainers and a bomber
jacket, my hair is still covered with a scarf. I
get in the car and drive to Essenwood. I will
get Mbo’s number from the security and he
will give me Tusani’s numbers.

As I pull up I notice a guy running out of the

building. He’s far but I think that’s a familiar
height and body structure. I hoot when he
races past my car, indeed it’s Tusani, the
man I desperately need right now.
He comes to me with a frown when he sees
me stepping out of the car.
“Sis’ Ntoko,” he takes off the beanie in his
head.
“Hey, I’m here looking for you,” I say.
“Oh, did I do something wrong?” He’s so
humble, you’d swear he’s not the one
involved in faking jewelleries.
“Your brother and I had a fight,” I say.
It doesn’t look like he knew.
“When?” he asks.
“Last night, he came to my house and pulled
a gun on me and brought me here by force.
There was a Queen lady who was here, but
that’s not why I’m here. My family panicked,
rightfully so, they called the police and they
found him here with an illegal firearm. So I
want to know if there’s anything you’ll need
concerning his case.”
“Umhhh no, thank you, we will handle it.” I
don’t know who’s ‘we’ but I’m glad he’s not
panicking.
“Okay, take my number, just in case,” I say.
He nods, he still looks confused though.
“You say he pulled a gun on you?” he asks.
I nod.
“But why? He never gets like that with any
woman, even the ones who play him and
make a fool out of him like Queen. Why you?
He loves you, you’re all he’s been talking
about for weeks.”
I shrug with a heavy breath. “Maybe you
should ask him, I don’t know,” I say.
“I really don’t understand Sis’ Ntoko. He
loves you, he really does. Why would he ruin
the first thing that has brought his life a
glimpse of hope? Why would he put himself
in a position where he stands to lose you?”
My chest is burning, I swallow back and
shrug once again. “I don’t know Tusani.”
“I’m sorry he did that to you. I really am, you
didn’t deserve any of that. You gave him a
chance, one in a million, and for some
reason, or curse, I don’t know which it is, but
he blew his chance of becoming a decent
man and doing what he always promised me
he’d do; rebuilding the family. Don’t feel bad,
you were not at fault, you don’t have to help
him or me. I will handle it.” He’s on my side,
he’s not pretending or trying to buy face.
He’s too intelligent for his age, which I think
is barely above 25.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Be okay, I have to go to meet up with our
lawyer.” He wears his beanie and turns to
leave.
“Tusani,” I call and he stops. “Take my
number and keep me updated.”
He makes a face that Thando would make if
she hears me saying this.
CHAPTER 14
THANDO ZWANE

I’m calling her again, her phone rings to

voicemail. I have to turn to the frustrated
family and the police officer and tell them
she’s not available to give her statement.
Only Aunt Flora is going to the police station
to give hers. Will it be enough? Nobody
knows.
“She’s not answering,” I say in a low
mumble.
“This is unbelievable!” My mother exclaims,
she’s angry at me more than she’s angry at
her second daughter. “Your father asked you
nicely, look after your sister until we get
here, just one job Thandoluhle and you
couldn’t do it!”
“But Ma she was already gone when I woke
up, you didn’t tell me to be her security
guard.” My father gives me a look- not in
front of people.
“Please tell her to come to the police station
as soon as possible,” the police officer says
collecting his belongings and leaving.
Everybody is worried about Ntoko because
they think something happened to her. I
know she’s alright wherever she is, I suspect
she’s somewhere trying to clear her head
and contemplating whether to drop the case
or send her beloved boyfriend to prison. I
didn’t expect this from her, we love things
and we always talk about living our lives with
no restrictions, but we’ve never associated
ourselves with criminals.

I leave the lounge before Mrs Zwane kills me

with those stares. I can’t drink wine with the
deacon and his wife around, so I settle on the
kitchen stool with a glass of juice and log
onto Facebook. I need to talk to someone, I
know it’s crazy because I know the truth
now. But I used to talk to him about
everything, surely I can ignore his real
identity this one time and pretend like we are
still friends who’ve never met.
He hasn’t disabled his account, I send a DM
telling him how frustrated I am with Ntoko
and my parents. He doesn’t respond, he
reads and calls me immediately. The call just
defeats the purpose.
“Babe,” I answer with a low sigh.
“I just saw your message, are you okay?” he
asks.
“Zibulo you should’ve asked that in the DMs,
as the ghost friend that you were,” I say.
“Are you not comfortable talking to me as
your man?” he asks.
“I am, but not about sad stuff. With the real
you I want to talk about love and review how
the last time we were together was, you
know all the sweet things,” I say.
He’s quiet for a second, then I hear a
chuckle. “Like last night, right?”
“Oh gosh, I don’t know what came over me.”
This makes me so shy, the whole me fucked
a guy in the car just outside my sister’s
house while my aunt was inside.
“Don’t worry, I’m slowly learning; anywhere,
anytime, ziyasha,” he says.
Gosh, is this the image I want him to have of
me? I think it’s too late for me to pretend as
if I don’t like sex and it shouldn’t be a shame
that I do, I’m a grown woman.
“Are you still coming tonight? I want to know
if I still need the beast-of-bed concoction,” he
says.
I laugh out loud. “Yes, I’m coming. You can
try shots of Smirnoff too, the word out there
is, it makes you go all night.”
“You want me all night?” His voice becomes
raspy and so sexy. I’m turned on.
“I want you hard Mngoma.”
Someone clears throat behind me, I slowly
drop the phone from my ear and curse under
my breath. Shit, it’s my father.
“Mangethe,” I say. Can the floor open up and
swallow me now?
“That Mngoma, does he go to church?” He
steps forward, I know him, he’s disappointed
but unlike my mother, he won’t shout.
“Yeah, he does,” I don’t know why I’m lying
because sooner or later they’ll meet him, our
thing is serious.
“Yet he allows you to talk like that with him?
Do you know that sex before marriage is a
sin?”
I laugh, I didn’t mean to, but I mean why do
we have vaginas before we get married?
Breasts only produce milk once the baby is
born, I’m sure God could’ve made a plan to
prevent sex too.
“Are you angry?” I ask him. Being a father of
girls means having a lot of soft spots.
“You’re old and I taught you well, you know
the Bible and everything the Lord teaches us.
I did my part, you cannot blame me when
you don’t see the pearly gates of heaven on
the last day,” he says.
I’m laughing again. He’s laughing too. My
father is very strict in front of the people,
especially my mother. But when it’s just him
and his kids he sheds off the hard skin.
“You kids give me headache but at least I
don’t have unplanned grandkids YET,” he
gives me a meaningful look. I remember the
unprotected quickie I engaged into last night
and make a mental note to buy morning-
afters on my way home.
The door opens, snapping both of our
attention. It’s Ntoko in leggings and runners,
she’s carrying Checkers bags and coming in.
We didn’t hear the car driving in. My father
stands up and goes to her with a rib-crushing
hug.
“You gave us a fright. Your sister has been
trying to call you, why didn’t you leave a
note or text her that you’ll wake up and go to
the shops?”
“I figured she was tired and besides Baba,
he’s behind bars. He slept there on the cold
tiles, probably didn’t have any breakfast and
warm water to bath, he cannot do anything
to me.” I can sense pain in those words. It
still baffles me how much she cares for this
person.
“You will have to go with your aunt to the
police station to give your statements to
ensure that he stays there forever,” baba
says.
“As soon as possible,” I add in my deputy
parent cold tone.
“I will go, I need to take a shower and eat
first.” She drops the shopping bags on the
counter and leaves. She’s going to the
bathroom to cry, I need to leave before her
and I get into a fight. I don’t understand how
she’s feeling sorry for Zamani and not herself
who almost died.
I tell my mother that I’m going to do some
laundry in my house and come back later.
Well, that’s not where I’m going, maybe
later, but for now I have a surprise visit to
make.
-
-
I have bought Woolworth beef lasagne and
roasted vegetables and red grape juice. Yes,
I’m trying to be the girlfriend of the year;
surprising him with lunch at work. I’m driving
to Mlabalaba Egg Warehouse and Supply
situated in Riverhorse Valley, that’s where he
is today. I still can’t believe he has an egg
business yet he hates them to the yolk.
There’s a bakkie parked next to the red C63,
I know he’s not here to be hands-on. No,
that’s not who he is, Zibulo has money and
he makes sure he lives like a rich man. You
can say it’s pride or big ego until you learn
about his past. It’s luxury or nothing. I don’t
know if I will be able to keep up and tolerate
all his little demands and tantrums, but we’ll
see.

I spot him from the entrance. He’s wearing

his slim-fit navy suit and sunglasses,
watching the workers packaging crates of
eggs. It doesn’t look like there’s a private
office around here, I only see a desk at the
corner, it’s a busy place.
“You’re standing or working?” I ask from
behind.
He turns around and smiles, “What is this?”
“A surprise,” I tell him.
“We spoke about an hour ago, you didn’t say
anything about coming here, and what’s
this?”
I hand him the plastic bag. “It’s your lunch, I
thought you must be hungry.”
His smile widens. “Wow, thank you very
much.”
I flash a smile at the sweaty men eyeing me
with curiosity. He locks his fingers in my
hand and pass a round of orders to the
warehouse manager. We turn to the back of
the building, surprisingly there are several
office containers. He leads me inside one
that I take is his least favourite office.
There’s a built-in desk, plan table and small
refrigerator perched at the corner.
He settles on his chair behind the desk,
there’s no seat to accommodate visitors.
“Am I going to stand?” I’m in high heels and
my legs aren’t thick, they’ll break to
pressure.
“Please get me water from the fridge first,”
he says.
So this is naturally how he is; lazy and full of
orders. Before I get his water I roll my eyes,
we are just a few years apart, having a
vagina doesn’t mean my not having bones.
He takes them, not bothered by the feigned
annoyed look on my face.
“Sit,” he says, there’s a twinkle dancing in
his eyes as he looks at me standing next to
him.
“Where? In the air?” I look around at the
chair-less office and back at him hopelessly.
He pushes back his chair, leaving space
between him and the desk.
“Here,” he points to the desk.
Fast thinking! I jump on the desk and sit with
my back at the door, facing him. He moves
the chair back, my legs rests on either side,
leaving my skirt pulled two inches up. At
least I’m wearing a beautiful underwear, he’ll
be gracing his tummy with my food and eyes
with a beautiful sight between my legs.
“So, my dad heard our phone call and he
asked if you go to church, I said you do.”
He chuckles, “I can go to church and still be
bad.”
“I know, but he believes more in someone
with a spiritual background,” I say.
“Wena? What do you believe in?” He’s
drinking his water, hasn’t touched the lunch I
proudly brought him.
“I believe in honesty Zibulo,” I say. Oops,
“Oh, they call you Mlaba here.”
“No, I’m sthandwa,” he says, placing his
hand on my knee and brushing up to my
thigh.
“I can’t wait for tonight,” his eyes are locked
into mine, lower lip folded between his lips
and tempting me to drop my pants and fuck
him for the third time.
He lowers his head to my knee and plants a
soft kiss. A knee kiss, tell me who else has
ever experienced that?
“I could get used to these visits. I’ve never
had anyone giving me lunch and sitting on
my desk, looking so sexy.” His fingers draw
sketches on my skin, traveling up and around
my thighs. “I’m not too much into physical
sexual activities, mostly because I’m always
busy. But with you Thando, I’m enjoying
myself. It feels so good to have someone
who’s attracted to me the way you are, even
though you said I’m boring.”
“I said you look boring, that hasn’t changed,
you hardly look excited.” I shift closer and
bring his head to my breast, dropping my
head to his neck and whispering. “But your
dick is exciting, to say the least.”
I hear him gulp. He raises his eyes, I lock his
stare and smile.
“Please don’t fuck me in this shack of an
office, I have to set an example for my
workers,” he begs with mock severity. He’s
making me sound like a dangerous fuck
beast.
“Later darling,” I sit up straight and pull
down my skirt. “Have you followed up on
what the woman said at the restaurant?”
He rubs the bridge of his nose and exhales
faintly. He’s about to tell me it’s nothing to
worry about and I feel it deep down in my
soul, that woman didn’t just make it up.
“Let me eat…” He’s not talking about it. I shit
to the side and allow him the front space.
-
-
I’m driving back to Umlazi softly playing
Naima Kay, feeling like a teenager in love.
Tonight is going to be great, I believe. I need
to go to town a bit later and shop for some
sexy underwear. Maybe a lingerie, the first
month of a relationship should be exciting,
he can be his boring uptight self and I will
bring all the spices.
I was hoping Ntoko and Aunt Flora would be
back from the police station by now. I hope
she didn’t convince Aunt Flora to change the
statement, I don’t trust her anymore. Her car
is not here, parents are hosting themselves
in the house, but my mother is going to
bottom the couch as soon as she sees me.
Here is to tea orders!
It’s awkwardly quiet, I walk in and drop my
purse on the counter and get myself a soda
from the fridge. There are dirty cups in the
sink, this means they just had tea. Minus one
job!
I walk into the lounge, there’s no sign of my
parents. I settle on the couch with my drink
and read comments from my last business
marketing post. In my head they’re chilling in
the garden reviewing scriptures and
fantasizing about the day the Lord will
descend from heaven blowing a trumpet. So I
walk into the bathroom to throw away the
empty can since it’s closer than the kitchen
bin, so carelessly and oblivious to anything
around me. The bin is just beside the door, I
don’t look at anything until I hear a squeak
sound of a rat featuring a bellowing of a bull.
My mother naked, a sight I last saw when I
was 16 or 17, and my father’s butt that I’ve
never seen in my life. He’s dogpilling behind
my mother with his potbelly jingling and
overlapping over her waist. I don’t know if
they’re enjoying it, I’ve never heard anyone
making such sound during sex.
For a minute I’m frozen; eyes bulging out,
chest dry and heart beating drums. Then I
get back to my senses and run out and close
the door behind me. It was supposed to close
quietly but for some reason it sells me out
and slams hard.
What do you do if you just walked into your
parents having sex? I can’t believe me, the
whole sex hophead, is shaking like a leaf
because I saw two people having sex. But
fuck, they’re my parents and very old. And
dogpilling out of every sex position? Yes, I’ll
call it dogpilling, not style, that one is for us.
And beside, he was just behind her, hopping
and juggling his potbelly.
No, I need a drink. What in the world did I
just see? And they haven’t come out of the
bathroom, no matter how good sex is I
always hear what’s happening around me.
Drinking alcohol is not allowed at the Zwanes
but today I have every reason to have a
glass of wine. They could’ve read a Bible, or
drank tea, or watched ENCA. Anything other
than sex in that terrible position.
In fact I’m traumatized, I need therapy.
I’ve drank the whole glass of wine but the
picture is still vivid in my head.
Then there’s a horrible cover of Benjamin
Dube, her choice of lyrics are even more
traumatizing;
“All You Need To Do Is To Just Feel Him
Here We Go
Do It…”
I need therapy and a support group and
stress-relief funding from the government.

CHAPTER 15
THE DUNGA VILLAGE

Mabhungu stands up and follows Madlokovu;

the senior advisor and close family friend
who’s a sangoma. He knows all the ins and
outs of this family, him unexpectedly arriving
with this hard expression on his face can
barely means good news.
Mabhungu’s realm has been nothing short of
hardships and endless torments. He
should’ve given up a long time ago because
really, he’s held this family together but it
doesn’t feel like the ancestors have
embraced him still. He may not be a Dunga
by blood- story for another day- but he was
born and raised as one. When the blood son
of Menzi, the late king, abandoned and spat
on the throne, he took over and protected it.
When the royal family found out that his
mother had lied about his paternity they
came to strip him off everything; taking the
livestock for their children and distributing
the King’s estate among themselves. He
should’ve left, went to look for his biological
father or start over somewhere else, but he
couldn’t do that to the late king who raised
him as his own and nurtured him into the
man he is today.
“How is MaMzotho?” Madlokovu asks. He’s
just breaking the ice before dropping the
bombshell. MaMzotho is the woman who’s
stood by Mabhungu through thin and thick.
His beloved wife of eight years.
“She’s still at work,” Mabhungu says. He’s
not proud that his wife works in the clothing
factory because he’s struggling with
finances.
“And you, how are you doing?”
“I’m okay Madlokovu, to what do I owe this
visit?” He’s already worried because
problems never end in this family.
“My brother’s wife was in Durban, she’s still
looking for a place to run her business. One
of the property owners she came across was
your brother.”
Mabhungu gathers his brows in confusion.
“My brother?”
“The first son of your father,” Madlokovu
says. He’s never addressed him as if he
doesn’t belong to the Dungas or was not the
biological son.
“Zibulo?” Mabhungu asks in shock. This just
sounds like a foreign dream.
“He goes by the name Mlaba now, he’s been
in Durban all along, he’s stinking rich,”
Madlokovu says.
“Did she ask him anything about home?”
Mabhungu asks, staring at him with
anticipation.
“It doesn’t sound like he wants to come back.
He refused to claim himself as a Dunga. But
that’s not why I’m here, I’m here because of
the dream I had last night.” His dreams are
never inaccurate. Mabhungu drags in a deep
breath, trying to mentally prepare himself for
whatever is coming.
“What was it?” he asks.
“He was standing below the kraal with a sick
baby in his arms. He didn’t look happy at all.
I don’t know what it means but I know
something is about to go terribly wrong if a
follow up isn’t made,” Madlokovu says and
looks at Mabhungu with sympathy. He’s done
a lot for the village and to protect the throne,
but nothing is ever enough. “I wish both you
and your brother were here. If it concerns
babies it’s bigger than both of you, it’s about
the next generation of this family. A lot is at
stake. His mother was married, she should’ve
been buried here, there’s no separation in
the ancestors. Regardless of your aunts’
opinions, you also belong to this family as
your father introduced you to the ancestors
and put isiphandla around your wrist. This
concerns both of you.”
Mabhungu clears his throat, “But you just
told me he wants nothing to do with this
family. I’m sure he won’t bothered by the
dreams of a man he doesn’t even know.”
“He better be warned Mabhungu. You’re
sitting on your father’s chair, you’re a leader
and responsible for such family matters. You
took it upon yourself to lead and do what
your father failed to do while he was still
alive. In that I include bringing your brother
home,” Madlokovu says.
“That’s complicated Madlokovu. His mother
was kicked out of the royal house because of
me. I’m sure him and his mother never
forgave me. How am I supposed to go to him,
disturb his peace and warn him about the
Dunga matters that he wants nothing to do
with?”
“You figure it out Tshana!”
He rubs his face and sighs in frustration. Is
there any break in this life?
^
^
^
MaMzotho arrives home dragging herself,
today is Friday and that is the busiest day in
the factory because orders have to leave for
the shops before 1pm. People have finally
gotten over it and accepted that she’s the
king’s wife and she works. She survived
village gossips and faced mockery in its all
shapes and angles, now nothing can really
move her.
She walks into Mabhungu busy with the pots,
she can’t be more grateful for this. It will
never make sense to people why they’re the
way they are. He cooks and cleans, there are
no servants in the royal house anymore, and
she has a day job and is away from home
until the afternoon.
“Thank God you cooked,” she throws her bag
on the table and gives him a hug.
“I knew you’d be tired,” he pulls her closer
and pecks her lips. “I’m almost done, you can
take off your shoes and wash your hands for
dinner.”
“I thought you’d help me take my shoes off.”
Having no children, a decision he took and
explained to her before they got married,
sometimes makes her act like a needy child.
But he loves her like that; he covers the pot
with the lid and picks her bag and follows her
to the bedroom.
As he pulls her black pumps he remembers
Madlokovu’s visit and tells her about it.
“Madlokovu was here earlier telling me about
the dream he had,” he says.
MaMzotho looks at him curiously.
“He dreamed of Dunga carrying a little baby
by the kraal,” he says.
“Okay, what does it mean? We both know
that the baby subject doesn’t concern us.”
“Yes, it does not. But his wife recently met
with Zibulo, now he wants me to go find him
and warn him about this dream.”
“But you’ve never met this Zibulo, except for
that one time in the funeral where he spat in
the king’s grave. He’s never come here and I
doubt he wants anything to do with you.
What makes Madlokovu think he will listen to
you?”
“It’s my job Nolundi, I don’t know what the
dream means but I know how important it is
to address issues that concern babies, the
next generation of the Dungas.”
MaMzotho sighs, she doesn’t believe in this,
it will backfire, but if Mabhungu and
Madlokovu have decided there’s nothing
much he can say. He loves kids, which is
funny because he doesn’t want any of his
own because of how he was born and stuff.
MaMzotho had to tie her tubes before they
got married, she loved the man, she was
willing to make sacrifices to be with him. But
some days when she’s alone with her
thoughts she wonders how life could’ve been
like if they had children, how being a mother
would’ve changed her as a person.
Unfortunately she will never find out or raise
those questions loud because it would be like
breaking promises and going back on her
word.
“When are you going to look for him?” she
asks.
“In a few days, I have to prepare for the
journey and report to the council that I’m
going to Durban for a few days.”
“Let’s go all will be well.”
^
^
^
NTOKO ZWANE

“…then he started screaming and breaking

the door, demanding to see Nontokomalo
who had made it clear that she didn’t want to
talk to him. When he finally got in he pulled a
gun, pointed it to her and dragged her out of
the door and left with her by force.” The
police officer is writing down everything
she’s saying.
He looks at me, “Is this how you remember
what happened last night between you and
Zamani?”
I don’t look at Aunt Flora’s direction because
I know what I’m about to say won’t sit well
with her, she’s here because she’s tying to
protect me.
“No,” I say and the police officer raises his
eyebrow. “He didn’t break the door, I opened
it.”
He writes it down. “But he pointed the gun at
you?”
“No, he only pulled it out, he didn’t point it at
anyone.”
“Mameshane!” Aunt Flora exclaims. I know it
sounds like I’m making her a liar but I’m the
one who’s saying the truth.
“Then I panicked thinking he’s going to shoot
me and obeyed.”
“By obeying what do you mean?”
“I walked out,” I say.
“He didn’t drag you?”
I glance at Aunt Flora, she’s glaring at me
angrily.
“He didn’t drag me, he carried me the bridal
style and took me to the car then we left.”
“The bridal style? My boy don’t write that
nonsense, what kind of a bride gets carried
like a sack of potatoes and pointed with a
gun?”
I can tell the police officer is getting
frustrated by this. Our statements should be
giving them a solid reason to keep Zamani
here, which is something I’m secretly
working against.
“When you got to his place, did he threaten
you or show any signs of aggression?”
I shake my head, “He was remorseful and
gentle.”
“She’s lying, don’t write that. When we got
there she was looking frightened and sad on
the bed.”
I interject, “That was because I had just
found out he slept with another woman while
we were together.”
The police officer sighs, “Are you opening the
case against him sisi, yes or no?”
“No,” I say hastily, without looking at Aunt
Flora or giving it a second thought.
“No???” she asks.
“Yes, Aunty, I don’t want him to stay in the
cell because of me.” I’m not proud of my
decision but I don’t think I will regret it.
“Is this child crazy?!”
I know I will be shouted at, my sisters will
criticized and maybe not speak to me for half
a day.
But I look at the police officer, “I was not
kidnapped, my family acted on fear and
overreacted.”
“Do you realize that this doesn’t grant him
freedom? He had an illegal gun with him.” As
if I needed to be reminded!
“Yes, I know. This is not about him but me,” I
say.
“If that’s the case then we are done, you can
leave.”
Aunt Flora storms off, she’s breathing fire.
I remain standing, I’d like to see him before I
leave.
^
^
^
ZAMANI
He didn’t expect Tusani to support him
because as much as they’re into illegal
production of jewellery, Tusani still wants to
preserve the good parts of himself, his core
of ubuntu and being a good citizen when it’s
necessary. But Zamani didn’t expect him to
be angry as he was when he left with their
lawyer. He knows he won’t spend a week in
this place but he can’t help but fear the
possibilities of having such a criminal record
to his name. He’s had women in his life, the
likes of Queen who deserved to have him pull
his gun to them, but for some reasons he
was gentle and understanding with all of
them. That’s why they exploited him for his
money and lied to him about pregnancies,
because he’s soft to women. But for some
reason the only woman he sees a future with
is now scared of him because he’s pulled a
gun on her in front of her aunt.
He didn’t expect to see her. And he didn’t
want to because he’s ashamed of himself.
But she walks in accompanied by the police
officer. She’s wearing a floral wrap-dress and
sandals. No make-up, no weave. She looks
physically and emotionally exhausted.
His head drops, he cannot look at her in the
eyes. At this moment he doesn’t stand any
chance of winning her back, he fucked up.
She doesn’t sit, she stands with her arms
folded. He’s still wearing the same clothes,
skin dry and hair unkempt.
“I didn’t open the case,” she says after
staring at him coldly for quite a moment.
“Why?” He lifts his eyes to him shocked.
“Because unlike you Zamani, I have a heart. I
can’t believe you’ve put me through this. I
don’t even know what I’m going to say to my
parents. Why did I come here to erase the
case and paint my aunt as a liar?”
He looks away. He didn’t expect her to do
that for him and it hurts him that she’s now
choosing sides between him and her family
that hates him so much.
“Zamani,” she calls, her tone is a bit soft.
Their eyes meet, he looks more broken than
her, beyond apologetic and sad. “I did this
for you to leave me alone. I don’t want
anything thar has to do with your name,
even a criminal case. I love the memories but
trust me, I curse the day I met you.”
“Sweerie ngiyakucela, don’t say that.”
“Even if it’s the truth ‘sweetie’?” she asks
with mockery.
“You really hate me?” He shouldn’t be this
surprised and hurt by the confirmation in her
eyes but he is. “I really love you please just
allow me to feel that for you, even if you
don’t feel the same way.”
“Don’t think about me or feel anything for
me Zamani. From now on we are just
strangers.”

CHAPTER 16
THANDO ZWANE

I’m unable to sit with my parents after seeing

what they were doing in the bathroom. I
stopped at two glasses, before I got drunk,
and went to Ntoko’s home office to browse
through social networks and YouTube. Finally
there’s a car pulling up outside, I don’t know
what has taken these two so long, how hard
could telling the police officers what
happened last night be?
I gather myself up, Setha is sitting with the
sexually-satisfied parents, I don’t know when
she came. I join them, sitting on the other
couch and keeping my eyes away from them.
I don’t trust myself, I can make a silly
mistake as laughing and they’d know
something is up.
Aunt Flora is the first to walk in, I know this
woman and that face means someone is in
trouble. I hope the bustard didn’t disappear
or pay off the police.
“How did it go?” I’m the first to ask,
everyone is curious. Ntoko is walking behind
her, her eyes haven’t locked with anyone’s in
this house. Strange!
“Ask your sister!” she looks really angry.
All eyes turn to Ntoko, she’s the one with our
answer, it’s said.
“I didn’t open the case,” she says in a not-so-
proud voice.
I don’t know what to make of this, we are
here, all of us, including our parents who left
Stanger in the wee hours of morning, to
support her. And she didn’t open the case?
“Nontokomalo what happened?” the head of
the Zwane’s asks firmly.
Aunt Flora says, very annoyed, “She changed
the story and said the boy didn’t point a gun
at her and he didn’t kidnap her.”
“Whaaat?” Setha has a better reaction to all
of us, we just look at her in defeat. “Why? He
almost killed you?”
She looks at Setha, I can see the pain she’s
in and I can’t believe a relationship has
ripped her apart like this. I mean she’s
Ntoko, she always gets in and out of
relationships, but for some reasons this one
unveils a different side of her. Then she
quotes the Bible, successfully softening up
the parents and retaining the good girl title;
“Romans 12:17: Repay no one evil by evil,
but give the thought to do what is honorable
in the sight of all.”
I’m so bored! To think that I stayed here
waiting to hear how long before we attend a
court hearing. I had already picked the outfit
in my head and memorized the facial
expressions I would’ve made to the culprit.
But hey, love wins!
“Thandoluhle you’re leaving?” my mother
asks.
I have my purse, car keys and phone in hand,
what else could I be doing?
“Yes Mama,” I say.
“No advice for your sister?”
Since when did I become a toxic relationship
therapist?
“No, I’m good,” I walk out and leave.
I will talk to her, just not now. I’ve had
enough stress of Ntoko and Zamani for the
day.
^
^
^
I’ve packed everything I’m going to need for
the night and sneaked in some leggings, just
in case I don’t leave immediately in the
morning. I can’t believe this is my first time
visiting him in his house as the official
girlfriend but I’ve already fucked him twice.
I’m prepared, I’m bringing my own condoms,
just in case he’s out of stock. I know it
sounds ridiculous; have you ever seen the
chicken bringing the spice it wants to be
eaten with? Anyway, speaking of protection, I
completely forgot to buy the morning-after
pill. I make a mental note to get it first thing
tomorrow morning, I still have time.

My phone rings, I whip off one strand of hair

on my mound and rush to answer. People
have no damn timing, I’m shaving here, this
girl is going to the double-storey mansion,
looks are everything.
Out of all people it’s Sonto disturbing me!
She’s a friend, or should I say was. I don’t
know when we last spoke, she was probably
short of rent or needing a pair of shoes. The
money I cook for until I look and smell like a
packet of Peri-peri spice, some people just
wake up and assume that I harvested it from
trees.
I’m tempted to ask her how much she needs
this time before we even begin but a
deacon’s daughter in me stays in control.
“Hey Sonto babe,” I say as excited as I could
sound.
“Babe, it’s been a long time.”
Yeah, you must’ve been temporary rich.
“Yeah, long time, what’s up?”
A heavy sigh puts me off. I’m still making
plans on how I’m going to use my money, I’m
not lending anyone money.
“A lot has been going on but I’m still here,
thriving for the best. I’m in Cape Town
working at a certain doctor’s surgery, still
adjusting but enjoying being in the new city.”
“Wow, congrats!” I wish I could be more
excited for her, her being employed means
no more borrowing of money and crying to
me as if I make gold.
“Strangely I dreamed of you. I was with you
walking on some gravel road, I don’t even
know where we were going, but we came
across a street vendor who was selling fruits;
ripe mangos and apples. Girl, I’ve never
eaten so many fruits in my life!”
I should’ve known! She wouldn’t just call me
not wanting anything.
“Nice, but babe I’m broke these days, I
cannot give you any money for the fruits,” I
say.
“Oh gosh Thando, no. That’s not…really
though?” she’s laughing hard. I might have
missed the joke.
I really need to go, time is not on my side.
“I will send you money for the fruits if
something comes up, love you, bye!” I drop
the call and release a sigh accompanied by
an eye roll. She had to cook up a story and
talk about dreams instead of asking me
straight up; ‘Mzimb’ okhalimali send me
money, I’m craving fruits’.
Bag, packed.
Punani, shaved.
Woman-On-Top, practiced.
Lingerie, fitted.
^
^
^

Zibulo has no sense of hospitality at all. That

I just have to deal with. He only opens the
gate for you; you park yourself in and let
yourself inside the house. He doesn’t even
appear to acknowledge you and at least
inform you which room he’s in and where
you should wait for him.
I let myself in with my bag and climb a flight
of stairs. He’s standing in the foyer
engrossed on some car magazine.
“I was coming down to get you,” he says
when he lifts his eyes to me.
“No, you weren’t. You don’t have a warm
welcome. Where should I go?” I’m not
annoyed but with men you have to act up at
least five times a day.
“The main bedroom, second door on your
left, leave your bag and change into
something warm and come, they are setting
dinner for us.”
He could’ve just lied and said he set dinner
himself, that would’ve been more romantic. I
follow his direction and walk into the
bedroom fit for a king with a subtle accent
lighting, dark walls grounding the ambience
of the room and telling a story of lonely dark
nights. I put my bag on the bed and look
around appreciating the interior design and
view from the open curtain.

Footsteps come in. I thought we were going

down to have dinner. I turn to his forever
vapid face, it’s dimmed by a gentle smile as
he approaches me.
“So you’re just going to come to my house,
walk past me without hugging me and giving
me a kiss?”
I smile, rolling my eyes. His hugs are the
warmest, I would give anything to be held
like this everyday. He pushes my shoulders,
holding me at the angle where he’s able to
look into my eyes.
“You’re here at last,” he says like he just
came to the realization.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“You’re my girlfriend?”
“Absolutely, Zibulo Dunga.”
His hand let go of my shoulders. I don’t know
why I said that, honestly I don’t. He doesn’t
look mad, that’s one thing about his face,
you can never tell.
“Change,” he says with an ordering tone.
I started him, so I don’t stir a fight I just turn
and unzip my bag. I take out the pyjamas I
brought, they’re the only thing close to warm
that I have, I didn’t come here with fur coats
and wool jerseys.
I take everything off except my G-string. He’s
standing behind me watching, as I take my
wrist watch off something crosses my mind, I
drop the watch. I think the devil is using me
because this is really not how I am. I bend
down to pick it, not just your normal humble
bending, I’m the duplicate of Delilah.
There’s a low groan, mission accomplished!
He looks away when I stand up and catches
him staring. He’s even rubbing his neck in
embarrassment, am I the only freak here? I
put my pyjamas on and pack everything back
in the bag.
He takes my hand, no sexual advance, no
nothing, we walk down to the dining area
holding hands like an old couple headed to
the pension collection point.
Oh, we have a chef here?
I must’ve forgotten how rich we are.
Sit and get served, that’s life this side.

Dinner is not what I expected. I was looking

forward to the deep conversations, the
laughter and affectionate stares. But all I
have here is a Korean BBQ beef bowl- who
still eats rice anyway?
This man is not even looking at me, I doubt
he still remembers that he’s in the couple’s
dinner, not eating alone.
“What’s in your head?” I finally ask.
“Nothing.” He forces a smile but it doesn’t
work as he’d hoped. I haven’t known him for
too long but come on.
“You don’t want me here?” I ask.
Now he’s looking at me, I got his attention.
“How can you ask me that?”
“I don’t know what to think Zibulo, you look
bored and uninterested as usual.”
“I’m sorry if that’s the perception you get.
I’m going to get used to it, I hope soon.”
“Get used to what?”
“Sharing my space and my life with
someone. Now that I’m with you I’m scared
of being without you. When you leave in the
morning I don’t know how I’m going to feel. I
just wish I had a crystal ball to see what
tomorrow holds for us; are you in it for life or
this is just one of a million life experiences.” I
don’t know if he’s questioning me or just
being vocal about his fears. Either way I
don’t like it.
“Maybe you need to enjoy the moment and
stop thinking about the time that hasn’t
come yet. This is our first dinner date, I’d
prefer you let it sink in, enjoy what today is
about and savour every taste of it. I love you
but I’m not going to promise you the world,
I’m just going to love you and open my heart
for you, in hope that we are going to last.”
“Please come here.” Ok, that’s awkward, I
just gave you a lecture and a sermon all in
one minute and you just want me to come to
you.
“Please,” he begs.
I stand and take a hesitant walk around the
table. He puts me on his lap, I’m not sure
what he’s doing but I wrap my arms around
him and allow him to hold me.
“Sthandwa sami,” he says and I look at his
eyes, I recognize the uncertainty and misery
he’s in without much relating to it. “What
kind of life would you want me to give you?”
This is the question nobody has ever asked
me, so I don’t know how to answer it yet.
“Can I think about it?”
“Yes, but please don’t take too long.”
His arm drops to my waist, our foreheads link
and we stare closely at each other. His lips
nibble on mine, teasing me into a kiss. Then
his hand sneaks under my pyjama pant into
my clean mound.
“Bald?” he asks with a chuckle.
“Yes, when we leave this table I’m going to
shave you too.”
“Ummm, okay.” It doesn’t sound like he sees
the reason but for peace sake he’s agreeing
to it.

The ice has melted, he’s smiling and talking

more. For the fun of it we did the dishes after
eating and now I’m about to shave his dick
and then we will go to shower together.
His ex was brave, I will give her that. It
doesn’t look like this man has shaved this
bush this year.
“Don’t hurt me, okay.”
I just roll my eyes and set my equipment
next to him. I don’t know what I’m doing
actually, I’m just acting like a pubic hair
police. I sprinkle water over his hairy area to
soften his skin and then apply the cream to
the areas of skin around the hair. I’m very
gentle and my gentleness seems to be
provoking a resting member here. Now it’s
impossible to focus because he’s also
moaning softly when my hand caresses his
skin. So just like any human who makes
mistakes, the blade mistakenly dips into his
skin and he almost jumps up.
“No, let’s leave it, you’re going to chop my
dick off.”
I was apologetic but now I’m laughing. He
can’t fuck me with a dick that’s shaved one
side and hairy on the other. Never!
He calms down and allows me to continue, I
ask him to stop making sexual noises and
focus on the task at hand.
I’m finally done, I clean his area and apply
gel on his skin. He’s now horny, visibly belted
with lust and unable to control his feelings.
I’m washing my hands in the bathroom and
wondering what his approach will be. He’s
never approached me for sex. Yes, judge me,
I’m always the one voluntarily opening my
legs for him.
So now the mission is to look uninterested in
doing the deed. I return to bed and pretend
to be checking my phone. He’s pulled up his
pants but the boner is still poking at his
navel.
Slowly he puts his hand over my hip and
shifts closer to me. I don’t take my eyes off
the phone. He kisses my chin and plants a
soft peck on my pursed lips.
“Thando, can I make love to you?”
My heart does something it has never done
before. It beats twice, almost ripping my
chest apart, before returning to its normal
pace and I feel a warm feeling that knots my
stomach.
He knows something just happened, it
happened to him too, his fingers are
trembling. I just kiss him, he kisses me back
and instantly takes control. Pyjamas and
pants fly off.
It’s love making, not fucking where you have
to finger and suck each other to get wet. I’m
instantly wet for him, he’s on top of me
kissing me like his life depends on it and I’m
under him with my arms tightly wrapped
around his waist.
He moves my knee and pushes it up, leaving
my nakedness exposed to him. He confirms
with his fingers; rubbing over my clit a few
times and bringing his coated fingers to my
nipple. He wipes everything off to my nipple
before sucking it.
The first thrust is raw- yes, will think about it
later. He enters me the scissor-position,
pushing the last inch of his dick inside me
and groaning like a dying patient. The
atmosphere is different, I’m looking at him
and seeing his emotions raw as the love that
he’s making to me. He’s gentle and patient,
every stroke is in a slow pace, he’s reading
me and responding to every gasp that I
make with a groan.
“Talk to me sthandwa,” he finally says.
I’m usually loud and screaming fuck-me-
harder. But today I’m just gasping and
enjoying every stroke he gives me.
“Ngiyakuthanda mina, kakhulu futhi,” he
says. (I love you, very much)
“I love you too Zibulo. Please don’t stop, just
do me like that, don’t stop!” My toes are
curling up, I’m feeling him in no rush, to his
realist capabilities and rawness.
“Cum for me baby,” today he’s really vocal.
And that’s sending me off to the waves of
pleasure. I’m losing myself to his holding
stare and love confession, this is a
meaningful love-making.
I love him, so damn hard.

CHAPTER 17
THANDO ZWANE

I wake up to a man’s arm wrapped around

me and a hand placed over my cookie. A
smile creeps out of my face when I realize
where I am and who I’m sleeping with. I
remember him waking me up, it must’ve
been around 3 am or so, but he made love to
me until I fully woke up, reached two
orgasms and went back to sleep again.
Crazy! Now he’s fast asleep, I don’t even
know how his schedule looks like.
“Babe,” I shake his shoulder. I just want to
know if he’s going to work so that I can go
and make breakfast before I leave.
He opens his eyes sluggishly, he looks
around and then at me. There’s confusion in
his eyes, so I try to put him at ease with a
seductive smile.
He flips off the blanket and looks at his lower
body. He’s moving his legs, more like kicking
them. Before I ask if he’s okay he screams;
“My legs, Thando!”
“You have your legs Zibulo, what’s wrong?”
He sits up, slaps his legs like a crazy man
and pinches himself. He looks scared, really
scared.
“Zibulo!” I’m panicking now.
He stutters, his face gaining back
composure, “I didn’t…I couldn’t feel…my
legs.”
“Can you feel them now?” This is strange.
“Yes,” he nods, he still looks shaken.
“Has this ever happened before?”
“No,” he shakes his head. I don’t understand,
neither does he. Is it me or this is just
coincidence?
“Is it us? Maybe the positions we did,” I don’t
know what to think, I’m trying to think of all
things possible.
He’s still touching his legs, his face engulfed
in confusion. He doesn’t answer to my
sketchy thoughts, it looks like I’m stressing
him even more.
I sit and pull him down to the bed, I hug him
until he heaves a sigh and loosens up. I
cradle him silently, allowing him to deal with
his feelings and settle in his own thoughts.
“I’m scared,” he says.
I can tell it took everything in him to admit
this, he’s a black man after all.
“I couldn’t feel myself from the hip to toes,”
he says.
“Let’s go to the doctor,” I suggest with a
heavy sigh.
He doesn’t say anything, so I will take his
silence as a yes. I slide away quietly and go
to run him a bath.
I’m like a nuisance mom watching him
getting in the bathtub and gawking until he
finishes and dries his body. He doesn’t
protest when I offer to lotion his back. Shoes
are a must, so I bring them to the rug he’s
standing on and hand him a towel to wrap
around his waist.
He looks okay now, but my woman instincts
won’t let him get out of my sight. He eats the
cereal and sit in front of the TV, where I
insist, then I go to take a quick shower.
A guest is the last thing we need right now.
Yes, we, this is my house too. I open the door
and the second person I see this morning is
Mercy in her skimpy dress and red stilettos.
God have mercy! You can have mercy on us
or have Mercy (kill her)
“Is Mlaba home?” she asks. I don’t know why
she’s smiling so early in the morning.
“No, he’s not, I ate him,” I roll my eyes and
walk away.
“You should be my bestie so that I can look
out for you.” She’s walking behind me,
sounding somehow amused.
I have two best friends- my sisters. I don’t
need a best friend who’s so close to my
boyfriend and full of stinking attitude. I’ll
never forget or forgive how bad she treated
me at the party.
I give Zibulo a bored look, as sick as he is,
and make my way up to get dressed.

Mercy is still here, sitting and watching TV.

There’s a laptop open in front of her and
documents spread on her lap. Can’t she work
at the office?
“You guys are going out?” she asks.
So he hasn’t told her about this morning’s
incident, I thought they were best friends.
“Yeah, we are going out?” Zibulo says.
“Great!” she says excitedly.
He gives her so much freedom. He stands up
and we leave her comfortable in the house
alone. I don’t ask him about it because he
already told me she’s a good person bla bla
bla.

We are seeing the local general practitioner,

he’s getting a physical check-up and
according to the nurse everything looks
normal. The doctor comes in as well, he asks
a few questions and checks his medical
history trying to find any link. His conclusion
is that he must’ve slept in a position that
compressed his nerves and stifled blood flow
to his legs.
It’s ruled as that, nothing life threatening.
They prescribe some meds and that’s it. Now
we are really going out for breakfast, as lied
to Mercy. He’s now at ease.
“I wonder what Mercy is doing in the house
right now,” that’s me thinking out loud,
intentionally.
“Probably working,” he says.
“Or going through my bag and saying how
cheap I am.”
He chortles, “She’s not the devil you think
she is. She’s one of those few people who
managed to have an almost-personal
friendship with me. She’s such a free soul,
sometimes her tongue is sharp like a knife
but she’s harmless.” He’s eating smoked
salmon and arugula salad. I’m having full
breakfast; eggs, sausages and bacon spread
in front of me.
“Harmless? She harmed my spirit at the
party,” I say.
“I will arrange for you two to go out for
shopping or whatever you want to do as
girls,” he says.
Shopping? I’m smiling; surely I can endure
Mercy for expensive bags and shoes.
“Do you visit your mom’s grave?” Sometimes
I’m just so random, I even shock myself.
A minute passes and he hasn’t answered me
or reacted in any way. I wait because I know
that’s the kind of a man he is; he still needs
to learn facial expressions and all those
normal things.
“I do, every year on the day she passed,” he
says.
“Where do you stay when you’re there? Are
the houses at home still standing?” I’m
pushing because I know he might not be
passionate about answering the next time.
“My mother’s house is still there,” he says.
“Who stays there?”
“No one,”
“Do you visit?”
“Visit who? My mother died.”
He’s answered enough for the day. I will keep
the rest until the next time.
^
^
^
MABHUNGU

If this is the kind of life he had, maybe he

would’ve abandoned the kingdom too. He
thinks to himself as he parks his old Hilux
single-cab in front of the gigantic double-
storey of exorbitant exterior design.
The lady in a very transparent, short dress,
not to mention tight, you’d swear it was sewn
right on her body, opens the door. She’s
everything glamor represents, from diamond
earrings to the waist-hugging blonde braids
and facial features carefully enhanced with
make-up. It’s the kind of woman him and
other village seniors always warn young boys
not to bring home and wife (they have their
reasons).
“Sawubona nkosazana,” he greets taking off
his hat and pushing his stick under the arm.
She’s staring at him, blinking like a robotic
doll. How uncomfortable it is to be stared at
by a woman who’s not your wife!
“Are you looking for Mlaba?” She’s straight to
the point, no time for formalities.
He nods, “Yes.”
“Who are you?”
A deep breath! This is going to sound
awkward when he says it.
“I’m his brother,” he says.
She frowns before nervously pulling the
edges of her dress, clearly feeling ashamed
of her unwelcoming attitude.
“I didn’t know he has a brother.” This is what
everybody has been saying from the
warehouse where they directed him to the
main office building, there was a Siyabonga
there who was also shocked to learn that his
boss has a brother.
He’s finally let inside the castle- yes Zibulo is
the one living like a king. The Dunga
ancestors must’ve looked after him very well
despite of his absence and unwillingness to
admit their blood.

The woman introduces herself as Mercy and

offers to bring him something to drink. He
just asks for water, he’s still captivated by
the inside of the house.
She walks back in. How easy she makes
walking on those tall stilettos!
She sits, crossing her legs in a rehearsed
manner.
“He went out with his girlfriend for
breakfast,” she tells him.
He’s confused because he thought she was
the girlfriend or wife.
“I’m his asset manager and personal
assistant,” she says like she was reading his
thoughts.
“Nice to meet you…” He can’t remember her
name.
She smiles, “Mercy.”
He doesn’t say it, he’s still looking at her.
Oh, typical village man, he’s not going to call
her by an English name.
“Mchunu,” she says.
“Nice to meet you MaMchunu.”
Being called like that sounds so weighty.
Mercy is a girl living her own life; making
mistakes and repeating them over and over
again. The name doesn’t give her much
domestic responsibility as being called by her
last name does. But she smiles anyway,
she’s going to sit with him until Mlaba comes
back and explain why he never revealed that
he has a brother. They don’t look alike; this
one is a Zulu man from head to toe, wearing
umqhele in Kloof with his wrists fenced by
several goat-skins. His skin is the colour of
mocha, beautiful squinty eyes and trimmed
strips of hair covering his face. He’s nothing
short of handsome, but when your eyes lock
with his you become instantly intimidated by
his solemnity.

It’s been an awkward moment of silence,

Mercy finally clears her throat and asks,
“Have you been here before?”
“No,” he says.
Only if he was a bit talkative!
“I stay in South Beach, I’m renting a flat
there, I’m originally from Engoje,” she says.
“Really?” He looks interested in her for the
first time.
She smiles, “Yeah but I haven’t lived there
after college.”
It shows that she doesn’t live there, but he
doesn’t say that loud. He went from studying
the art and culture on her face to the way
she speaks; the perfect accent and use of
body language.
“I can show you around Durban, if you’re not
with someone,” she offers politely.
He’s a bit surprised. Durban is just an old
famous town; updated but still very much
out-of-date.
“Thank you,” he’s humble, he wouldn’t
decline an offer from a woman. Well, offer of
this kind. She’s actually a very nice woman
once you’ve sat down with her.
“You should give me your card,” she says
His card? Right.
“I’m the asset manager and personal
assistant stretching to being a travel agent in
this house,” she says, she’s laughing.
He only nods, staring at her as she laughs.
“They’re here,” she says standing up.
He didn’t hear anything. How did she know?
This is a very fast life. He’s yet to understand
why an asset manager, personal assistant
stretching to a travelling agent is alone in the
house. What is the arrangement here?
^
^
^
THANDO ZWANE

We are back in the house, I was hoping we’d

get a chance to do a late morning-glory but
Mercy is still here. She’s waiting for us at the
door, I just need to accept her because she
works for him and she’s always going to be
on my face.
“Your brother is here,” she says to Zibulo.
We both stop dead on our tracks. The brother
whose birth caused Zibulo’s parents to
separate? I don’t think he’s going to take this
well.
But he’s Zibulo, he’s not going to show what
he’s feeling. He nods and walks in. I stand
next to Mercy, I don’t think it’s a good idea
for them to have audience when meeting for
the first time in such a long time.
“Makoti, you have to feed them,” Mercy says
sarcastically.
“Makoti?” I roll my eyes and follow her to the
kitchen.
I’m full, so is Zibulo, but she’s right even
though I’m not a makoti here. The brother
comes from the village two hours away, he
needs to eat.
Mercy stands against the counter, looking at
me curiously.
“Did you know about him?”
“Yeah, kind of.”
She’s shocked. I turn around and check the
refrigerator; I need to cook for the guest.
“He’s fine,” she compliments.
I look at her rolling my eyes, “I’m sure he’s
married.”
“He is, but what makes you so sure?”
I’m going to make these beef burger patties
and toast and add other breakfast fittings.
“A king can’t rule without getting married,” I
say.
She gasps and almost breaks her phone on
the floor.
“Whaaat? That’s a king?” It sounds like she
undermines him for the position. I hope she
didn’t give her thee Mercy attitude.
“What did you do?” I ask.
“I was a bit too much. Nasty at first and then
I asked to show him around Durban and he
agreed,” she says.
“Only you Mercy!” I’m not surprised at all.
“Please help me, he’s your new friend after
all.”
“Wow, so I was talking to a king? But he does
look like one, I just didn’t notice.” She’s
stressed out and it’s so good to see.
“Where am I going to take him?”
Sigh! “I don’t know Mercy, you’re the Durban
agent here, not me.”
“It has to be private, I’m sure he doesn’t
want to be seen anyhow in public, especially
if he’s married. I’m sure he doesn’t even
want me to show him around, he was just
being nice.”
“You’ve said you’re sure more than two
times but you still unsure of anything. Come
on, let’s fix him food.”
“No, I don’t cook,” she says in a very
appalled tone, like what I said is an insult.
“Why?” I ask.
“It’s not in my blood,” she says.
“Who has cooking oil, onions and spices in
her blood? Just rinse the lettuce and slice the
tomatoes.”
She drones in displeasure…
At least she’s effortless in those stilettos, we
can do this and finish in five minutes. I
haven’t met the Dunga king yet but I already
know he’s handsome and he might have to
fight temptations before heading back home.
CHAPTER 18

Zibulo walked in and sat on the couch next to

the one Mabhungu occupied. When he
looked up he didn’t show any shock,
excitement or disdain. He just looked at him-
now grown but he’s still the boy he saw at
the sperm-donor’s funeral (his so-called
father). They were never introduced to each
other, so it’s questionable why he would
show up at his house unannounced and after
so many years.
“I’m Mabhungu, Dunga is the surname. I’m
not sure if you remember me from baba’s
funeral.”
“I do,” Zibulo says, still looking at him
plainly.
“Are you good?” Mabhungu asks, this feels
so out of place.
“Yeah,” – Zibulo.
“You never came home to get cleansed,”
Mabhungu says, trying to break the ice,
however it seems like he went about it the
wrong way.
“I’m not interested in whatever you’re here
to talk about,” Zibulo says, his words firm but
face calm.
“I’m not here to fight with you. I understand
your anger and I’m not here to justify
Dunga’s actions in any way.
“Then why are you here?”
Mabhungu clears his throat, he didn’t expect
to be welcomed with warm hands but this
conversation is too cold.
“I’m the only man remaining at home. I take
it as my responsibility to advise and warm
my people…”
Zibulo interjects, “I’m not your people.”
“Right! Let me just say I have an advisor,
who sometimes deliver dreams and visions
to me regarding any thing that concerns the
Dunga family.”
“Congratulations,” – Zibulo.
A deep breath! “Madlokovu dreamed of our
father arriving home with a little baby in his
arms, standing below the kraal with anger
written all over his face,” he says.
Zibulo shrugs, “It doesn’t concern me.”
“It’s just you and me on the record, and I
don’t have kids, I never will.”
“I don’t have kids either and even if I did I
wouldn’t have cared.”
“Zibulo your umbilical cord is at the Dungas,
you cannot deny who you are and you
cannot be denied by anyone. Baba tried and
he failed.”
“Really now? I was denied by your whole
family, to this day nobody has ever
acknowledged my existence from that
family, not even you.”
“I wanted to, it’s my job as the king, but I
knew you and the queen must’ve hated me.”
“My mother and I didn’t think about you to
hate you.”
Mabhungu exhales softly, “I’m not baba, I’m
not his blood, I’m not a Dunga by blood. But
I’m there holding the reigns until you come
home. It’s not easy but I’m trying. I’m here
because I know you may not care but think
about the next generation. You have to do
right by them; give them a real identity and
don’t stir a fight between them and the
ancestors.”
“I do not have kids Mabhungu!” Is he deaf?
This whole vision thing doesn’t concern him.
Where were these dreams and visions when
he was eating pap and goat milk everyday,
with no shoes and decent clothes? Where
were these great ancestors when his own
father denied him and kicked his mother out
like a dog?
This is not going to move him or make him
fear the dead Dunga fools.
“I will leave my number, just in case one day
you want to communicate. I would love to
know you better, I apologize for the part my
existence played in destroying the queen’s
marriage. My mother is no longer around to
apologize for her part as well.”
Zibulo drags in a deep breath and faces
away, giving him nothing to hold on to. He’s
never hated Mabhungu, he was never in his
thoughts, he’s never cared. The only person
he hated and still hates is Menzi, the
deadbeat dead father.

Thando walks in with two plates, behind her

is Mercy looking overworked holding the box
of grapefruit and two glasses. Thando drops
the plates on the coffee-table and looks at
Mercy with a flushed face. A curse can be
heard faintly escaping her lips.
The tray! They’re not just serving the
ordinary Themba here, this is the king and
for Thando a possible brother-in-law too.
“Thank you,” Mabhungu says and they look
instantly relieved.
Thando is looking at Zibulo waiting for the
introductions. Mercy is stealing glances at
Mabhungu thinking about her earlier attitude
and how she could’ve been fined if she acted
that way in a Zulu village. How come he’s so
humble? And handsome?
Thando was right, he’s married, there’s a
wedding band on his finger. Mercy’s little
heart break has no explanation to it.
Thando’s expecting look causes Zibulo to
sighs and lazily introduces Mabhungu as the
Dunga king, not his brother.
“This is my girlfriend, Thandoluhle Zwane.
And that is Mercy…”
“I have already met MaMchunu,” Mabhungu
says abruptly. His eyes meet Mercy’s again
but he quickly diverts his attention to
Thando. She looks like a Dunga queen that
could carry the surname forward.
“I’m delighted to meet you,” he says
extending his hand for a shake.
Thando smiles, this couldn’t have happened
at the more accurate time. She was asking
Zibulo questions about his background just
an hour ago and now she’s standing in front
of his brother.
“How long are you staying?” she asks, more
warm and welcoming.
“Unfortunately I have to head back home
tomorrow morning, I have matters that need
my attention back home.”
She nods with understanding, he’s a leader
of the people after all.
“I didn’t know you’d be here, I didn’t think I’d
meet you so soon.” Talking too much as
usual!
“I got this side yesterday, I booked a BnB to
be able to spend two nights here while trying
to solve matters that brought me here.”
Thando glances at Zibulo and back at him
curiously, “I hope everything is well.”
“Yes, everything is good ndlovukazi,” he
says.
Zibulo doesn’t look pleased with that term.
He’s no king, he never wants to be referred
to as one, ever.
“Let us leave you,” Thando says, smiling at
him accusingly. He feels like a child being
reminded, in not so many words, to behave
in front of guests.
Mercy is awkward towards Mabhungu, which
is explainable because she’s too forward and
now she regrets even being alive.
But Mabhungu’s uneasiness around Mercy is
unexplainable. She’s just a forward Bonang-
wannabe, there’s nothing to be intimidated
of.
^
^
^
MABHUNGU
AT UMGENI PARK

He picked the call regardless of his status

and yelling instincts. A married man has no
business being shown around by strange
women. But she picked how nervous she was
when she made that follow-up call so he just
sent his location and told her she can come.
There’s something about her that makes him
want to stay as far as possible from her. But
again, there’s a human side of him that feels
like rejecting her offer would be reading too
much from it and acting pompous.

For a travelling agent that she defines herself

as, she wears too glamorous for the job.
When she walks into his BnB, Mabhungu
can’t take his eyes off her pencil-heels, only
God knows how she walks so effortless in
them. She’s changed from what she was in
the morning, he noticed that when she
walked in with Thando serving breakfast.
Even now she still looks pretentiously
humble, like a woman of few words.
He greets, trying to keep his tone and face
amiable. He’s dressed up for the road;
wherever she’s taking her.
He offers her a seat in the small lounge and
brings a glass of juice.
She looks rather shocked.
“Ummm, thanks.”
He sits, looking at her inquisitively. His
meeting with Zibulo didn’t bear the desired
fruits, hopefully whatever she’s planned for
him will cool his head.
“I tried to search for places that aren’t so
public and asked to be squeezed in at the
least busy hour at the Zulumoon Gondolas. I
hope you like boats.”
No, he doesn’t.
“I do,” he says.
She takes a sip to calm down her nerves. At
least he’s liking her ideas. Is he? She gathers
her brows.
“You don’t like boats, do you?” She’s
everything but not stupid. He must ask
Mlaba, she can read even dead facial
expressions.
“I don’t like them but I can tolerate them if
that’s what you’ve planned.”
“Or you can just say no,” she says.
“Saying no to you wouldn’t be easy.” Okay,
this is why Dunga Snr had a spokesperson,
he was avoiding stupid tongue mistakes like
this. When you’re a Dunga anything you say
can be interpreted in fifty different ways.
“It’s not,” Mercy argues.
Not the direction he wants to take! “Is there
anything else? Not that I would mind sitting
here all day and reading my copy of Imfihlo
Yomsamo Nezinkolo Zomhlaba.”
She’s never heard of such a book, but just
from hearing the title it deserves invisible
stars on Googlereads.
“Do you love aqua life?”
“No,” he says.
Frustrating!
“I have other ideas but it’s public spaces that
are usually crowded and you’re a king, I
don’t think it will work.”
“I’m a human before I’m a king, MaMchunu.”
This time she holds her breath for two
seconds and let his deep voice records at the
back of her head. He’s married- that should
record too but…
“I’m sure your wife wouldn’t understand why
you’re in Durban accompanied by a strange
woman,” she says, locking her eyes in his
despite the strange feeling that’s giving her
sweaty palms.
His eyes drop. “Yeah.”
That’s somehow disappointing.
“You look…beautiful,” he says.
This one, not disappointing.
“Thank you, I try,” she says.
He chuckles, “You’re an expert in trying; you
kill it.”
No lies detected, she always go all the way
out when it comes to looks. At least she
notices and compliments.
“I just afford it,” she brags.
“That’s good, at least you’re independent,
you don’t rely on a man to look beautiful,” he
says.
“Because I don’t have one,” she’s
comfortable with him again
“That’s a pity. But I’m sure a lucky man will
cross paths with you soon.”
“Lucky men are married now, so…” she
shrugs and takes another sip.
He’s staring at her. It’s a sin; the only woman
he needs to look at with this much
fascination is his wife, the beautiful Nolundi
Mzotho.
She lifts her eyes from the iPad she’s
browsing through, their eyes lock again,
longer this time.
He clears his throat, “I guess I’m lucky too
because I’M MARRIED.”
“Has your journey ended? Aren’t you
required to take more than one wife?”
“No, I’m not required to.” He fixes a stern
look.
“At least some villages are moving with
times.”
He doesn’t want to be cold but sometimes
one needs to make uncomfortable decisions
to avoid problems. He stands, stretching his
arms.
“I think we should just cancel this whole
thing. Thanks for the offer and effort, God
bless you.”
Wow, she says softly. Did she lose the flow of
the conversation and offend him?
Or it’s more than that? She packs her iPad
and stands.
“Bayede!” she bows before him.
It looks unnatural.
“That’s not necessary,” he says.
“You’re a king and I was raised with respect,
especially for royal people.”
“That’s…good.”
She’s looking at him. He’s trying to
intimidate her with his eyes but the pull she
has is more powerful.
“MaMchunu I’m married,” he explains in a
lowered voice, his eyes are on her lips. He’s
not the type that cheats, him and MaMzotho
have come too far. Coming to Durban was
only about meeting his brother.
“I respect that,” she says.
He nods and watches as she walks out with
her bag. He follows her behind to close the
door. Mercy turns her head back to look at
him, he stops abruptly.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“It’s okay, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
The stare! She holds it confidently.
He takes a step forward with his breath held
and pulls her hand slowly, clasping his
fingers over it and bringing it up to his
shoulder. He’s hugging her, she doesn’t
hesitate hugging him back and resting her
head on his chest.
He drops his head over her shoulder and
asks, “MaMchunu why are you here?”
“To see you,” she chooses honesty, as
uncomfortable as it is.
“It’s too late, I’m already someone’s
husband.”
“We can have one day only,” she’s begging.
Wtf is wrong with her?
“I’ve never cheated on her,” he says.
“You’re not cheating on her, your heart is
with her, you’re wearing her ring and scared
of breaking her heart.” Her soft hands are
under his T-shirt.
She looks at him, “No?”
“You’re my brother’s trusted employer.”
“That doesn’t count here, I’m not in the
workplace, unless you’re not attracted to
me.”
He inhales sharply and pulls her hips closer.
Him and MaMzotho haven’t been very active
lately, for them it’s pure experience of
pleasure as they don’t plan on having any
children. Being hugged like this and having
Mercy’s soft hands worshipping his chest
feels so good.
“Sondela,” he’s pulling her in and firmly
shutting the door. His hands run all over her
butt. His wife will never find out about this;
it’s just one sin, he’s human, not perfect.

Mercy lies on her back on the couch with her

legs open. He lies on his side between her
thighs and pulls aside her lacy panty, his
member is bursting veins and aching to feel
the wet castle. He rubs his tip over her clit
numerously before he inserts it in her
opening. She’s warm, so warm and tight. She
smells good and looks like something from
the magazine as she gasps under him.
“This feels so good!” he mumbles, burying
his head over her left shoulder and pounding
her harder. “Awwww MaMchunu! Shit.”
CHAPTER 19
MABHUNGU

He couldn’t pull out, he wasn’t told to and his

body refused to. Her body embraced him, his
member was engulfed in the warmth and
tightness of her coochie, he didn’t want to let
go of her even after he had spilled his semen
inside her. Then he felt his then-soft member
being gripped in by her juicy walls, within a
minute he was hard and pounding inside her
again. During the first round they did not
kiss, he felt it would be too romantic,
therefore sending wrong signals. But he
couldn’t stop himself the second time, he
held her face and kissed her. It wasn’t just a
kiss infatuated by aroused sexual feelings,
his tongue swirled inside her mouth, she
sucked his lips and moaned his name. It was
intense, he loved it at the time.
“Kumnandi MaMchunu, this is so good,” he
muttered, completely demented with
unbearable pleasure.
She liked it too. She moved to his rhythm,
smiled at him when his mouth hanged open
for too long as he thrusted in and out of her
warm coochie When he came inside her for
the second time- unable to pull out- she
didn’t fight him, instead they rolled down to
the floor and slept on their backs facing the
ceiling. It’s the craziest thing he’s ever done
as a king and a married man.

His palms start sweating as he pulls up in

front of the royal house. MaMzotho is home,
he thought she’d be at work. She does not
deserve what he did to her, to their
marriage. This woman eats chicken gizzards
with him, she’s always standing by his side
and making sure he doesn’t lose his decency
as the king regardless of their financial crisis.
What he earns as a king is not enough to
sustain the family needs and still look after
his village people. Eight out of ten times she
has had to be the bigger person and allow
him to put his village people first; funding
council meetings, assisting his second-love
(the local soccer team) with their needs and
distributing monthly food parcels among old
single mothers across the village. Sometimes
she even digs her own pocket to help, R3000
is all she gets every month for their
household needs.

MaMzotho steps out of the house wearing her

green apron and looks at her husband’s car
with a frown. She comes closer to see why
he’s not coming out of the car.
The door finally opens as she gets closer,
he’s holding a bunch of flowers. A smile
spreads across her face, this doesn’t happen
every year.
“Are they mine?” she asks.
“Yes,” he smiles nervously and reluctantly
hugs her before giving her the flowers.
He takes his bag and follows her inside the
house. He thought it would be easy to look at
her in the eyes after moaning another
woman’s name the previous day but it’s not.

MaMzotho waits until he’s seated before

asking about his journey. She stayed home
and reported sick at work so that she could
be here when her husband arrives and he
would find a warm meal at home. He made
his favourite bean curry and steamed bread
and added a salad of spinach.
“Did you meet him?” she asks eagerly.
“Yes, it wasn’t that hard to find him,” he
says.
She passes a bowl of warm water to him and
a dry cloth. “And what did he say?”
“He wasn’t welcoming, he doesn’t identify as
a Dunga, but I passed the message,” he
says.
“I’m sure he was still shocked. I’m very
proud of you for finally looking for him. Soon
he’s going to come home and you will have a
brother to lean on.”
“I’m not betting on it. He has everything he
needs there, literally anything you can dream
of. Unless if the dream that Madlokovu had
comes true.”
MaMzotho drops a tray of food on the table
and tilts back her head. “If he gets a child?”
“Yes, he has a girlfriend and they seem to
love each other so much.”
“That could be great, we can have a little
Dunga running around.” She beams with a
smile and goes outside to throw the water he
washed his hands in.
“I can imagine you as an uncle,” she says
walking back in.
“I’m good with kids, you and I have raised a
village,” he says, hungrily digging into his
food.
MaMzotho stretches out a feebly smile.
“Yeah, we have and we are very good.”
Mabhungu doesn’t pay much attention to her
parenthood comments. He has no reason to,
they can talk about children and even invite
a few over to play since they have a big yard,
as long as it’s not theirs. He doesn’t hate
children, he just doesn’t want any for
himself. It has everything to do with his
mother dying without revealing who his real
father was, as an African, a Zulu for that
matter, he understands how complicated
identity issues can be. He decided as soon as
he found out about Dunga not being his
biological father that he would never add
children to the mystery. That was
communicated with MaMzotho before they
even started dating, and she wasn’t going to
allow a simple thing as having children to
stand on her way of finding true love. Well,
not until everyone at work started talking
about their children, then it sank in her that
in her life she’ll never utter the words; ‘I’m
working for my children’ or have a little
human she can call her own. She will always
wake up and go to work…for her husband.
She collects the dishes after he’s done
eating, but she doesn’t wash them as per
norm, she leaves them in the basin and takes
his bag to the bedroom where she starts
unpacking everything.
Mabhungu walks in after her, he looks
uncomfortable with her emptying his bag,
which is ridiculous because surely Mercy
didn’t put anything of hers in the bag leaving
evidence of his infidelity.
MaMzotho puts aside clothes that need to be
washed and pack the clean ones inside the
wardrobe.
She turns her head and sees him standing by
the door and smiles. She loves her husband
and would do anything for him. Any sacrifice.
“You might want to close that door.” She has
a lot planned, the beans and steam bread
was just a start, she’s prepared more meals
for today.
Mabhungu just chortles and walks in without
closing the door. She walks towards him, still
smiling, she pushes the door and unties the
apron. She’s wearing a dress underneath, he
stops her before she takes it off as well.
He loves his wife, she’s the sexiest…sexy
woman he’s ever met. She’s a fit woman with
a flawless moderate brown skin and beautiful
lips. He’s a lucky man to call her his wife
but…
He kisses her cheek, “I need to rest mkami.”
“I want to welcome you home. We’ve been
caught up in our work the last couple of
weeks, I hardly showed you any affection, I
want to make up to you.”
He holds her arms, pinning them to her sides
and gives her another peck on the cheeks.
“Can we try tomorrow? I’m tired Nolundi.”
She hardly makes first moves, denying her
like this makes him feel bad. But he cannot
do it today while the events of the previous
day are still so fresh in his head.
MaMzotho looks at him with a cloud of
confusion and embarrassment. “Mabhungu
we haven’t been intimate in three weeks. I
sacrificed going to work today for you. You
know tomorrow I’ll be home at 5pm and I’ll
be tired.”
He swallows hard, guilt written all over his
face but oblivious to his innocent wife.
“I miss you,” she seals it with a whisper,
desperately looking into his eyes. Can they
at least have fun, just the two of them in
their empty house?
He opens his mouth but gags in his words
unable to protest any further. He pulls her in
his arms and helps her take off the dress. He
just needs to focus and shut out Mercy’s
face. He doesn’t need to think about her and
carry her memories with him. Nothing was
exchanged other than body fluids. He didn’t
even take her number, he doesn’t intend on
meeting her again or keeping any sort of
communication.

He adores his wife’s full breasts, sucks her

tits and rubs her soft coochie until she’s wet.
Then he pushes her to lie in bed with her legs
spread to either side of the bed.
He drops his forehead onto her and stares
into her eyes. He loves this woman so much.
More than he’s ever loved anyone in his life.
He kisses her lips affectionately, with his
eyes closed and fingers dancing on her hard
clit.
He directs his tip to the wet opening of her
coochie, like a lightening striking a silver
pole, his senses kick in and he pulls out
immediately.
His eyes are wide open, MaMzotho is looking
at him confused, she thought she was warm
and appetizing.
“Mabhungu yini?” She calls him by his birth
name freely behind bedroom doors.
“Condom Nolundi,” he says.
MaMzotho frowns, they’ve never used
condom before, she’s medically disabled to
conceive children, he knows this too.
“Why would you need a condom to sleep
with your wife?” She’s looking at him, unable
to pinpoint her feelings. Hurt or anger?
“I’m…I’m…Nolundi what if…what if a mistake
happens?” He’s still in panic.
“What mistake? I tied my tubes Mabhungu.”
He looks down at her, sighs in relief and
drops his head over her shoulder.
“I don’t understand, what makes you think of
this?” she asks.
He lifts his head and shuts her with a kiss. He
can’t go back to Durban and tell Mercy about
his fears and some life decisions he made. It
doesn’t concern her, and going back there
could lead to another round of infidelity and
force him to lie to her wife. Mercy is a
modern, career-driven woman with a sexy
body and ambitions. She wouldn’t take any
risk to ruin that for herself, especially for a
married man she doesn’t even know too well.
It’s a lot of faith he’s putting on a woman he
has no deep knowledge of, or any mutual
understanding with. He’s got no choice
though, he has to take that leap of faith and
hope his carelessness will not bear any
undesired fruit.
“It’s Madlokovu’s dream. It has been
bothering me, ngiyaxolisa mkami,” he says.
MaMzotho nods with relief and runs her
hands to the expanse of his back. He inhales
sharply and inserts his finger inside her
opening, rubbing her tenderly on her peachy
walls.
“Nothing can come between us Nolundi.
What I feel for you is something I can never
feel for any other woman. Ngiyakuthanda
ngenhliziyo yami yonke.”
MaMzotho melts, a flight of butterflies land in
her tummy, she blushes and holds on to him
tighter.
His half-erect shaft penetrates her slowly,
she presses her boobs against his chest and
nibbles on his lip until she feels him getting
harder.
“I love you too Dunga.”
^
^
^
THANDO ZWANE

I think I have a thing for fancy houses and his

full fridge. I mean it hasn’t been a day and
I’m back here with another foodie bag. Since
when does Thandoluhle care to feed the rich?
Mercy is not here, I’m eager to see her and
find out how things went between her and
the king. She was humble within a second, I
can’t imagine how she was like taking him on
the promised Durban tour. Zibulo was right
about her, she’s not that annoying when you
spend more time with her. I’d still choose
Sonto and her fruits over her though.

This man is still drinking, I knew he’d resort

to some kind of bullshit after his brother’s
visit.
I snatch the bottle of Glenlivet from his
hands and do what rich man’s girlfriend do in
anger- spill the whole thing in the sink and
throw the bottle in the bin.
He hasn’t moved an inch, he’s still looking
drowsy on the couch, wearing what I left him
in earlier today. It doesn’t look like he has
taken a shower, I doubt he even ate lunch.
“You need to get up and take a shower,” I
say.
“Thando! Thando! You’re not Nomalanga,
shut up.”
Whooah!
“Zibulo you’re alone in the house, take a
shower and go to bed,” I’m sounding like an
annoying divorced mother but he’s leaving
me with no choice.
“Fuck it, you’ve been in my life for a minute
and you’re already acting like you own me.”
Drunk or not, I don’t want to be talked to in
this manner.
“So there’s a timeline of when I should start
caring?”
“Just leave me alone.”
Phewww! I hate arguing with drunk people.
Where are his beloved workers, someone
needs to look after him and that person can’t
be me.
I turn to leave, he calls my name, sigh!
“You’re leaving me too Thando?”
“You asked me to,” I say.
“No, you’re leaving me Thando. You
promised me that you’d never hurt me.” It
sounds like he’s hurt by this, but then it’s
just alcohol speaking.
“You’re not different from Menziwokuhle,
nenza okubi bobabili, both of you do bad,”
he’s insulting me now. When and how did I
start being like his father that I don’t even
know?
“What did I do?” I ask with my arms folded.
He rests his back against the couch and
shuts his eyes. I take a step away, he hears it
and opens his eyes.
“I don’t want Mabhungu to come here again.
I’ve come too far to be taken back to that
place!”
I walk back and sit next to him with a faint
sigh. “He’s not taking you there, not unless
you agree to it. You haven’t told me why he
came.”
He scratches his head and burps. Yiks!
“I don’t know…little babies and nada nada, I
don’t have babies, his dreams don’t concern
me.”
“What babies?” It’s almost impossible to hold
a conversation with him.
“I want to sleep, don’t take away my shoes.”
“What babies Zibulo?” Men are men, he
could have babies somewhere, with a crazy
babymama.
“Mina Thando angazi lutho,” he says. (I don’t
know anything)
“Okay, what dream was that?” I’m anxious.
“Babies baby!”
Sigh!
“Come on, let’s go to the bathroom.” This
time he stands and staggers in front of me,
heading towards the bathroom.
He stops before the door and looks back at
me like he just remembered something.
“Why would he think I care though?”
Now I have to think on behalf of Mabhungu,
great!
“He just assumed,” I don’t even know what
he’s talking about.
“Uyangithanda ngempela?” he asks.
I nod, “Yes, I really love you.”
He hugs me, he looks happy for a second.
“My mother would’ve loved you. You’re
everything I never thought I’d ever need in
my life.”
I just smile, he strokes my cheek and smiles
back. Fuck, I love him even when he’s kak
drunk and annoying.
“The way you love me makes me dizzy. I love
how you touch me, you make me feel wanted
and I want more from this. I want marriage
and kids and tons of sex.”
He’s just drunk. I mean it’s too early for us to
be talking about marriage and kids. Kids?
How do they come again?
I need a minute…it’s day three and I haven’t
taken a short drive to the pharmacy.
Negligence or stupidity? This is not a risk I’m
willing to take.
I’m leaving, Durban is very big, I will find one
place that hasn’t closed yet. If that fails Coke
and what what will have to do the job.
“Thandooo!” he screams as I hurriedly take
off.
“I’m coming back baby, just take a bath and
go to bed, I’ll be here when you wake up.”
He holds onto the wall and grimaces. Then a
deep groan follows, I stop in panic and ask
what’s wrong.
“My feet...”

CHAPTER 20
THANDO ZWANE

He’s lying on the bathroom floor, I don’t

know if he’s still in pain or he’s fallen asleep.
I cannot lift him up and take him to the
bedroom, he’s a tall man with muscles.
Reality kicks in for me, this person doesn’t
have a family or relatives, there’s absolutely
nobody I can call and ask help from. He’s my
burden to carry, as I declared my love for
him and promised to always be by his side.
At this point I’m convinced that something is
wrong with his legs, but I’m no medical
doctor I cannot diagnose him with anything, I
can only pray for him.
I kneel next to him and touch his shoulder.
He opens his eyes, I can tell he just got half-
sober.
“Can you stand and take a shower?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says.
I help him up and walk with him to the
shower. I won’t lie, I’m scared, I’ve never had
a sick person as my sole responsibility. I
don’t know why this is happening when his
brother has left, maybe he would’ve came up
with something.
He’s showering, I’m nervously standing by
the door in case his legs become numb
again. There’s still a matter of life and death;
the morning-after pill. I need to take it today,
otherwise I’ll be compelled to hold my breath
the whole month praying for the stupid
periods to come. How did my life become so
complicated over a minute?

He’s able to walk himself to the bedroom, I

get his shorts and T-shirt from the closet and
throw to him. He dresses up and asks if I’ll be
coming back.
“Don’t worry I’m going to call Ntoko to get
the pill for me, I’m here with you, not going
anywhere,” I say.
“The pill?” he asks.
“We’ve been raw, I’m not on contraceptives,
I trust Jesus Christ,” I say.
His eyes widen. “What if something already
happened?”
“Then it will be cleaned away by the pill.”
“That’s murder, you could’ve just told me
you were not on birth control and I would’ve
taken precautions.” Oh so now we are
playing the blame-game?
“I’m trying to control the situation, okay?” I
take out my phone and call Ntoko. I need this
pill, I can’t imagine how it would be like to
fall pregnant for Mr Numb-Legs and his
attitude. He’s already giving rude-baby
daddy vibes.
Ntoko’s phone is answered at last, I go
straight to the point.
“Please rush to the pharmacy and get me a
morning-after pill, I forgot to use a condom.”
I know she’s going to judge, as if she hasn’t
been crying her eyes out for a thug
boyfriend.
“Thandoluhle do you need a prayer?” – that’s
Aunt Flora’s voice. Oh shit, I drop the call
instantly.
I didn’t know she’s a receptionist over there
now. I never stay on her good books for long,
something always happens. I’m the devil
child.
I try Setha’s phone and it rings straight to
voicemail.
Zibulo is glaring at me, I can tell from his
look that he’s ready to relocate and change
identity should I fail to control this situation.
“Please give me Mercy’s number.” Desperate
times call for desperate measures. I can’t
think of anyone else that I can call and ask
this kind of help from except her.
He knows her number by head, he just sings
it to me.
She must’ve had her phone close, she
answers just after two rings. First call I’m
making to her I’m asking for a favor, I’m not
that different from Sonto.
“Hey, it’s Thando, I’m here with Zi…with
Mlaba, he’s not feeling well. So I kinda need
a favor.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
He gives me a look, I know he doesn’t want
her to know.
“He’s drunk, I can’t leave him alone. I need
the pill at the pharmacy, it’s urgent.”
“What pill?”
What other pill is there stupid Mercy?
“The morning-after, I will send you the
money or refund you when you get here,”
I’m at Mercy’s mercy here.
“Haven’t you ever heard of condoms?” she
asks, the assistant of God.
“Are you going to do it or not?”
“Fine, I will do it, you owe me now.”
I drop the call feeling relieved. Well, not
thoroughly.
“Maybe we should get another opinion,” I say
to Zibulo.
“I will handle it,” he says dismissively.
“What if it happens again and you’re alone?”
I ask.
“It doesn’t last more than five minutes, I’d be
fine,” he says.
“What if… Zibulo, I care about you regardless
of how long I’ve been into your life. I will not
be okay being away from you knowing that
something might happen.”
He pulls up the covers, “I’d like to have some
sleep. I think my wallet is in the lounge on
the couch, you’ll find money for your pills.”
Jesus Christ, he’s so stubborn!

Mercy arrives, luckily she got my pill. I

mentally apologize for all the bad things I’ve
said about her. She wants to know if her boss
is okay, I convincingly tell her there’s nothing
to worry about.
“Where are you from again?” she asks.
“Stanger, Melville,” I say.
“They don’t teach you anything about
condoms and contraceptives that side?” Here
comes Judge Judy, she’s on the wrong
channel though.
“Mind your own business.” I swallow the pill
and take out the money to pay her. She
wants her petrol paid for as well. Tough life!
“How did it go with the king?” I ask.
She smiles excitedly and pulls her a chair to
sit. She’s really not that bad, Zibulo was
right.
“He’s really good. You know the passionate
kind of fucking; low moans, crying your name
and how much you’re being enjoyed…”
I cough uncontrollable. What on earth is she
on about?
“Mercy what did you do?” We are both aware
that Mabhungu is a married man, he was
wearing the ring for fuck sake.
“I was just testing him, you know the rural
type.” This is a lame excuse for sleeping with
a married man. Testing him? Now we test
men using vaginas.
“How?” I don’t know Mabhungu that well but
he looked trustworthy. I can’t believe he’s
this type. Mercy is gorgeous, sexy and all
that, but he ought to have some self control.
“He was supposed to go out but he didn’t like
the boats idea. He wanted to stay at the BnB
and I stayed a few hours with him; tasting
the royal dick.”
I can’t help but laugh. “So what was the
deal?”
“Just smashing and keeping it between us.”
“But you’re already telling people about it,
me and God knows who else.” I didn’t think
she was this type, I don’t want to be
judgmental, but wow.
“It was a few-hours stand. If he wasn’t
married I would’ve pursued something with
him, he looks like the type I want to settle
down with. The alpha male who will keep me
on a leash and call me ‘MaMchunu’,” she
imitates his deep voice.
I don’t know if I’m reading too much to this, I
don’t have a problem with women finding
their voices and making first moves on men,
but I wouldn’t encourage selling yourself
short all in the name of some wild
experiences.
“I hope you practiced it safe,” I say opening
the fridge looking for fruits we can snack on.
“No, we didn’t,” she says.
I’m the last person to judge, I have a pill in
my system cleaning off Zibulo’s sperms, but I
gasp and look at her with a look- are you
normal?
“Unlike you, I know birth control,” she says.
Rolling my eyes!
“What about diseases? You hardly know
him.”
“Ever heard of PrEP?”
“You can still get other diseases, HIV is not
the only disease transmitted by sex. What’s
hard about using a condom?”
“Look who’s asking!” she mocks.
Fair point! Let’s hope their little dirty secret
stays here and never reaches the wife’s ears.
^
^
^
NTOKO ZWANE

I haven’t been communicating with Zamani

but I know he’s out. Tusani sent me a
message letting me know. There’s a mutual
understanding between us, I think he’s more
human than his brother. He’s been
communicating and making sure I’m okay.
Aunt Flora promised that she’s leaving
tomorrow after she stayed on a long phone
call, I think she ironed things out with her
husband. I love my aunt but I can’t wait for
her to leave, it was starting to feel like I’m
living in my parent’s house all over again.

She barges into my room to tell me there’s a

car outside the gate. It’s Sunday morning,
people should be getting ready for church,
not showing up at other people’s houses
uninvited.
I have bathed but I’m not dressed up yet, I
put on my robe and drag my sleepers to the
gate.
It’s a black Toyota 86 with tinted windows.
The door opens before I can run back to the
house. I was associated with a thug, I have a
fear of unknown black cars. But it’s a tall
gentleman in a blue suit, he has a drop
gorgeous smile.
“I’m here to deliver a parcel for Ntoko
Zwane, “ he says.
I’m still hesitant. I don’t remember ordering
anything from online stores. And why is the
delivery car so creepy?
The guy takes out a money-roses box.
Everyone likes money but not countless
rolled R200s being dropped to you so early in
the morning.
“From who?” I ask the guy. The box is heavy,
I don’t know how much cash this is.
“Mr Z Mnyandu,” he says.
I should’ve known, he’s the only person who
can pull a stunt like this even after being told
to stay away.
“I cannot accept this,” I tell the guy.
He gets inside the car, “You will have to
return the parcel to him, Miss Zwane. Have a
good day ahead.”
Wow!

I walk back to the house hoping Aunt Flora

would be in the room and not witness this.
But she’s in the kitchen, she sees the box of
money and frowns.
“What kind of roses are those?” she asks
walking closer with her eyes squinted. Then
she sees clearly and gasps. “Who sent you
this?”
“Zamani,” I don’t have the energy to lie.
“Oh Nkosi, the police will be on us! Take this
money back if you don’t want to land in jail.”
“I will call him and ask him to come and fetch
it.” I thought Zamani would be grateful that I
didn’t open a case and return the favor by
honoring my wishes.

I get inside my bedroom and put the box

inside my wardrobe and unblock his number
to call him.
It rings a few times before he answers.
“Sweerie, did you receive your roses?”
Excuse me, so he’s just going to act as if
everything is normal.
“I’m not your sweerie, Zamani, I asked you to
leave me alone.”
“But I didn’t agree, I cannot stay away from
you, I love you.”
“I broke up with you!” What’s wrong with his
memory?
“You did. But I didn’t break up with you, I’m
still going to perform my boyfriend duties, as
long as I’m a free man.”
“Maybe I should’ve just let you go and rot in
prison.”
He chuckles, “I understand you’re angry.
Another thing I wanted to do was to
apologize to your family, especially
MaAuntiza.”
“You’re only realizing this now?”
“A lot of things have been in my mind. But
it’s the right thing to do, only if she can give
me a chance.”
I heave a sigh, suddenly calm and willing to
have a conversation with him.
“She’s leaving tomorrow, so it has to be
today or never.”
“Don’t worry sweerie, I will be there later
today.”
“I’m not sweerie!”
He drops the call without rectifying. Nx!

Now I don’t know how to tell Aunt Flora that

instead of telling the thug to come and take
his stupid gift, I have invited him to come
over for peace-making.
“Is he coming?” she asks.
“Yes, later today,” I say.
“Make sure that money is hidden, in case the
police swing by.” She’s exaggerating but I
promise her it’s well-hidden where it is.
“We have run out of sugar,” she says.
Sugar is an essential in any Zwane house; for
tea purposes.
“I will go the tuck-shop and get it.” I go back
to my bedroom, she will need her tea before
we go to church. There’s a branch here in
Umlazi, me and my sisters go there
occasionally to maintain our church girls
status.

I empty my purse on the bed, it looks like I

don’t have any cash. I’m not driving to the
mall just to withdraw cash for sugar. There’s
a box of money-roses here, it wouldn’t make
my anger less meaningful if I take one R200
note. I can use the change for petrol.
I pull out the money and go to the tuck-shop.
After what Zamani did to us buying sugar is
nothing but a little payback.
^
^
^
Church was greater than I expected, except
for that one moment when Aunt Flora asked
me to stand at the center and get prayed for.
We are now in the house, I’m helping her
pack her bags. I haven’t told her about the
real reason why Zamani is coming over. I’m
nervous.
There’s a new man shirt I’m instructed to fold
nicely and put in the plastic packet before
putting it in the bag.
“You bought this for Malum’ Bongani?” I ask.
“Yes, he will wear this on special occasions. It
cost me R250,” she says.
“Why? I thought you didn’t care about him
anymore.” Married women will surprise you.
“He’s my husband, I will always care about
how he looks, he represents me,” she says.
I rest my case!

I start with the pots as soon as we are done. I

have to give her a goodbye treat. My phone
rings, it’s Zamani.
He’s outside, my heart skips a beat. I took
more money from the box to fund Aunt
Flora’s trip back to Manguzi. Yeah, I’m
judging myself because I’m going to take
more before I return the box.

I didn’t think about how it was going to feel

seeing him entering my door again. He can
see the fear on my face too. He stands,
rubbing his hands together.
“You can come in,” I say.
He walks in and stands at the end of the
counter looking at me. He’s shaved his head,
he looks like a promising new man, except
that I know him now.
“Hi,” he says.
It’s awkward. I return the greeting and turn
down the heat on the stove.
“She’s watching TV,” I turn and lead the way
to the lounge.

Aunt Flora turns her head…this is going to

turn bad.
“MaAuntiza,” he says.
She looks at me, eyebrow raised. “Have you
given him his money?”
“He’s here to talk to you aunty,” I say.
“Me? About what?”
I look at him, he needs to speak immediately.
He goes down on his knees. I did not expect
this, he doesn’t look like the type that goes
overboard with apologies.
“MaZikode kaPhikela, Zwane owadlela
emkhombeni wezinyamazane. I’m here to
humble myself before you and ask for
forgiveness for the way I acted, disrespecting
you and your niece in front of you. There’s no
excuse for what I did, except owning up to
my mistakes and becoming a better man.”
“How long did you practice this?”- Aunt Flora.
“I did not, it comes from the bottom of my
heart. I lost my mother when I was still just a
young boy but that doesn’t take away what
she taught me as a child. I should respect
women and elders.”
She exhales heavily, “I’m a woman of God
and a mother, my job is to teach and nurture.
So I forgive you but next time I will
personally go to the police station if you do
any thing like that again. Do you still own a
gun?”
He shakes his head. How innocent!
“Invite Jesus into your life, my child.” She
looks at me, “Give him his money.”
Forgiving is not forgetting.
I rush to the bedroom and get the box from
my wardrobe. I need more of these money
rolls, maybe five or seven. I leave it under
my pillow and return to the lounge.
Holes are visible where the money I took
was. He smiles and takes his box back.
He clears his throat, “I would love to take you
and MaAuntiza out for dinner. Just thanking
you for not pressing charges.”
“You’re taking my forgiveness for stupidity
now,” – Aunty Flora.
“Not at all MaAuntiza. I won’t even be there, I
will just pay for everything and leave you to
enjoy.”
“Which company do you work for again?”
“I import and export goods to India and
USA,” he says.
She looks at me again. I don’t have a
problem with dinner, but I’ll do what she
wants us to do.
“You were cooking, right?” she asks.
“I was about to start, I was still defrosting the
meat,” I say.
“Let me change and get my bag, you don’t
cook like Thandoluhle anyway.”
Oh, wow!

Zamani laughs at me as soon as she

disappears. My face remains sour, I haven’t
gotten an apology on the knees yet, and this
dinner doesn’t mean we are friends.
He stands and comes to me. I stay in control
of my breathing pattern.
“I love you,” he says.
Sigh! “We talked about this Zamani.”
“Can we talk some time, maybe after dinner
or tomorrow?”
“Fine, but we are not getting back together.”
He kisses my cheek and brushes it with his
thumb. Our eyes lock and my anger
miraculously subsides. There’s no life in his
eyes, but he’s still Zamani, the smiling thug.
“Ever heard of ‘pussy-on-the-rope?”
My eyes widen. Wtf!
“I will teach you,” he says.
I can’t believe he’s talking forgiveness and
kinky sex all in one breath! What is pussy-on-
the-rope anyway?
CHAPTER 21
NTOKO ZWANE

He pulled a gun on me; now everyone in my

family just knows him as a thug. So it won’t
help when he keeps flashing expensive cars
and taking me and Aunt Flora to expensive
Japanese restaurants in Umhlanga. I’m
holding my breath, I’ve been holding it since
the white GLA pulled up to take us to the
restaurant. I mean, surely Aunt Flora is
questioning this ‘import and export’ business
he is in; how rich can one be from working
there?
But she doesn’t raise anything up. He didn’t
ride with us but he’s here just a minute after
we walked in.
He pulls me aside. He’s giving me the FNB
black card.
“Buy everything you want and make sure
MaAntiza enjoys herself.” How generous!
This is what every girl wants, for me it just
didn’t come in the package I wanted.
“You know this won’t change what you did,
right?” I ask.
His voice is lowered. “I’m trying, I just want
her to see that I’m not a bad person,” he
says.
“You can only be not a bad person by
stopping being a bad person Zamani,” I say.
He nods, “But I’ll need a chance to do that,
right?”
I just shrug, I never thought I’d be here with
him today, in my head it was over and our
paths were never going to cross again. I
don’t know how I feel; have I forgiven him or
not? Can I forget and move on?
“I will see you later,” he says.
“It is later. Which other later are you talking
about?”
He tilts his head to the side and squints his
eyes, licking his bottom lip.
“Ngiyakukhumbula sweerie, I miss you.”
He knows he’s a bad boy and somehow that
turns me on. I’m unable to hold eye contact,
my breath is uneven and he’s just looking at
me smiling.
“Nontokomalo!” Trust my aunt to yell in a
restaurant packed with white people.
“The driver will wait and take you wherever
you want. I will see you later,” he tells me.
I don’t argue, I nod and return to the table.
Aunt Flora is making her order, I don’t know
if it’s things she likes or never tasted, she’s
reciting a long list. This is Daruma, 300ml
Coke costs R24.
“California rolls…fashion sandwich…salmon
roses…and sushi.” I let out a loud gasp. Did
she just ask for Sushi on top of everything
she’s ordered? I think she likes pronouncing
these things, not that she cares to eat them.
I stop the waiter and look at her with my
eyes narrowed. “Aunty do you know what
Sushi is?”
“Fish,” she says giving me a ‘stop-
embarrassing-me’ look.
“Raw fish, vinegared rice and vegetables,” I
say.
“Oh, please cancel it and add cooked fish,”
she turns to the waiter. It looks like he’s
having a hard time containing himself from
laughing. This woman has ordered three
main meals, she hasn’t started with dessert.
“We will take some home,” I say in
embarrassment.
I place my order too; stir fried veges and
chicken. I think our bill is going to exceed
R1000 and I’m sweating as if it’s my own
money paying for it.
“Aunty I need an advice,” I put my big girl
pants on and just say it. She already knows,
she gives me a judgmental look before I even
say it.
“Do you believe in second chances?” I ask.
“Yes, but not when your life could be at risk,”
she says.
I think that answers it all, I know where she
stands, this is how everyone in my family is
going to feel if I let Zamani in my life again.
She’s busy with her appetizer, I’m disturbing
her.
“When you meet the right person you’ll know
it’s real love, you won’t ask these questions.
When are they bringing our food?”
Here goes black parents, when we start
doing things on our own they accuse of being
disrespectful and shameless. I’m asking for
guidance and she’s basically telling me – do
whatever.

The same driver takes us back home. We are

carrying food bags, you’d swear it was our
first time eating at a restaurant, thanks to
Aunt Flora’s food spree.
Zamani said he will see me later and he
hasn’t told me how. But I think it’s better if I
stay ready; dressed and beautiful.
I change to a tracksuit bottom and skinny top
and sneakers. I highlight my features with
make-up and spray myself with perfume. WE
ARE NOT BACK TOGETHER.
I tie a jacket around my waist and go to the
kitchen to be near the window facing the
gate.
Aunt Flora’s footsteps come in, I move from
the window and pretend to be busy.
“Hhayi siyoyicela ivuthiwe!” she says
grabbing something from the cupboard.
“I thought you went to bed,” I say.
“The holy spirit told me it’s not time to sleep
yet.” Oh, the holy spirit told her to wake up
and eat sweets. She fills some in her pockets
and leaves.
I sit by the window, glancing at my phone
every minute. An hour passes, my eyelids
are getting heavy. He said he misses me,
was he lying?
I’m never speaking to him again. I can’t
believe he just stood me up. Queen must’ve
come over, they’re fucking and laughing at
me, their fool.
^
^
^
THANDO ZWANE

We are at the hospital, I have dragged him

all the way here. He woke up with numb legs
again, I had to ask my girls to go to an event
without me later today. I’m scared but I trust
them not to make a mess.
He doesn’t like me very much right now, the
doctor just told him he can only discharge
him tomorrow after getting his blood results.
He insists that he’s okay now, but we all
know later today he could be experiencing
the same thing and groaning in pain.
“I cannot sleep on the single bed,” he says.
“This is a hospital Zibulo, there is no queen
bed. Do you even know what people go
through in public hospitals?”
“I know, my mother was admitted in one,” he
says.
“Then be grateful you afford this, they’re
going to take care of you.”
“Keep quiet Thando,” he’s angry. He does
have a tendency of snapping at me and I
always excuse it.
I choose to be calm as usual. “If your blood
results come back clear what is our next
step?”
“I don’t know,” he says and exhales softly. I
know he’s scared, deep down in his heart he
knows something is wrong.
“Do you believe in spiritual healers?”
He gives me a look. “No, I don’t.”
“Okay but there’s a woman who goes to my
church who has helped a lot of people.”
“I helped myself get to where I am Thando, I
don’t need anyone butting into my life now.”
He’s so stubborn, sometimes I don’t even
know what to do with him.
“But that’s not the point,” I say.
He sighs, “Just leave me alone.”
“One day you will say that and I will leave
you alone, forever.” I pick my purse and slide
my phone inside. I understand his emotions
are not in place but I’m not the one who
caused his numbness, I did not bewitch him.
“Thando!”
I turn and ignore him. He calls me again as
I’m about to walk out.
“Please stay, I’m scared,” he says.
Hearing him talk like that pierces through my
heart. I stop and turn to look at him, there’s
fear flitting across his face.
I walk back, feeling bad that I lost my
patience with a physically ill person, who is
my boyfriend for that matter.
I sit and hold his hand, he allows me to. “It’s
going to be okay baby. I just need to calm
down and accept the help given to you. I’m
only trying to help you, I’m on your side
Zibulo, not against you.”
“What if…what if I lose my ability to walk? I
want to take walks with you, to be able to do
things on my own and…” He gasps for air, I
hold his hand tighter and shake my head in
disagreement.
“That’s not going to happen,” I say.
“You don’t know that. You’re going to leave
me Thando. I mean there’d be nothing for
you to stay for. We just started dating,
leaving and forgetting about me cannot be
that hard. You will find someone with…”
“That’s not going to happen Zibulo, I fell in
love with you, not your legs. Please stop
thinking like this, I’m here with you all the
way.”
He drags in a deep breath. “I have people I
call friends and they have their own lives.
Other than them I don’t have anyone
Thando, I don’t know who’s going to bury me
if I die.”
Tears burn my eyes, I hate death talk.
“You’re not dying Zibulo, what is wrong with
you? You and I still have a lifetime together.
Just stop.”
“Please don’t cry baby, I appreciate you
being here and I’m going to do everything I
can to make sure I come back to you in one
piece, on my own legs.”
The way he talks triggers more tears. I’m
messing my make-up crying and I still have
to go to the mall and buy everything he’s
going to need over the night.
“Come here,” he pulls out his arm, I move
closer and lie in his embrace. “All along I was
scared of falling in love because I didn’t want
anyone to hurt me by leaving me. But now I
could be the one…” I lift my eyes to him and
shake my head, enough with this negative
talk.
“I’m going to bring you more shoes,” I say.
His lips lazily stretch into a smile. “Don’t let
anyone look at this beautiful face.”
“Must I wear a mask over my face?” I ask.
“Tell everyone you’re mine.” He drops his
lips on mine and smooches them
affectionately.
Someone clears the throat, “My patient,
please.”
Oh fuck, he’s not my boyfriend today, he’s
the patient.
^
^
MABHUNGU

He woke up earlier today and fixed his wife’s

lunch and ironed her dress. His day is clear,
he’s only meeting with the district mayor
tomorrow. Whenever he can, he likes
treating his wife like a queen that she is.
Royal servants are things of the past, he
serves his wife and she serves him.
By the time MaMzotho walks into the kitchen
he’s already dished her porridge and added
butter with a pinch of salt.
She smiles, “Good morning Nkosi yami.”
She says this to tease him.
“My queen, why are you glowing so early in
the morning?”
“I slept good,” he says.
He slightly pulls his eyebrows with a grin,
“Really? Who was tickling you?”
“My ancestors,” she says.
“Mmmm, I see. Please hurry and eat, I will
drive you to work.” He places a bowl in front
of her and sits next to him to appreciate her
beauty.
She may not have what other woman have in
their marriages because theirs is unique and
it suits their own dreams. But she was
blessed with a wonderful husband, a man
who doesn’t let his position dominate in his
marriage. He’s not scared of stigmas, he
doesn’t follow the masses, he does anything
to make his wife’s life as easy as possible.
“What do you want for dinner?” she asks.
“I want you,” he says.
She rolls her eyes and smiles. “Beside me?”
“I love anything you cook MaMzotho, you
know that.”
“Okay, please defrost the lamb chops for me,
I will make your favourite creamy samp and
lamb chops.”
He smiles, “Can I marry you twice?”
“Take me to work Mabhungu,” she says.
He links his arms around her waist and pulls
her for a long passionate kiss.
His body usually understands the routine.
Because she works weekdays they don’t
engage in sexual activities, unless if one of
them really wants to. She comes home tired,
at night she has to sleep and be fresh for the
next day. It’s only on weekends where they
get enough time to themselves.
His big man down there got a bit excited
when they kissed, he’s going to deal with it
man to man. For now his wife has to be early
for work.
He carries her bag and they walk towards the
car chatting softly.
Mabhungu steps on something and pulls his
shoe hastily.
It’s a rare white snake. It doesn’t move
admist MaMzotho’s loud screams. It’s big
around the stomach, it looks like it swallowed
a frog or chick.
The Dungas always communicate in strange
ways, but this is the most confusing one.
He’s sweating a storm…why didn’t they send
this snake to Zibulo? Why is it lying in front
of his car, looking so weird?
CHAPTER 22
NTOKO ZWANE

Coming home to an empty house is not

exciting as I thought it would be.
Surprisingly, I miss Aunt Flora. Maybe I
should invite Setha for a sleep-over, Zibulo
was hospitalized, Thando is obviously dealing
with that. But if I invite Setha over I’d have to
cook and I’m no Thando, I don’t get bored by
the kitchen. As it stands I will eat bread and
peanut butter and sleep.
My phone rings; it’s a foreign number, United
Kingdom code. Did I win an international
lottery or something?
I activate my best English and answer;
“Nontokomalo Zwane speaking, hello.”
“Sweerie, it’s me.”
What on earth?!
“Zamani?” I’m angry at him. He stood me up
yesterday, now he has the nerve to call me
from the UK and just say ‘sweerie’. When did
he even get to the UK?
“Yes it’s me, I’m coming to your crib, what
must I bring you?”
What?! “But you’re calling me with a United
Kingdom number?”
“It’s on conference,” he says.
What have I gotten myself into? I drop the
call and throw the phone away. Zamani
thinks I’m his switch, he can just switch me
on and off as he wishes.

Only a few minutes pass, I hear a knock at

the door. My eyes widen because I always
lock the gate, this is a township, amaphara
are everywhere. When I check through the
keyhole it’s the bustard, I unlock the door
and open with a yawn and my hands on the
hips. He’s carrying a dog cage and one
Woolworth shopping bag. He’s smiling
obviously, I don’t know any thug that smiles
as much as he does. You’d swear he’s some
sort of an angel, but this is just wearing a
sheep cloth.
I move my head to the side before his lips
land on my cheek.
“Sweerie what’s wrong?” In his head
everything is okay, we are back together
without talking about it and addressing him
standing me up last night.
“Yesterday I waited for you,” I say.
He smiles, “Really?”
“Yes really, you said you were going to
come.”
“But I said later,” he says, amused and
walking behind me.
“Is it later today?” Gosh, I’m acting like a
mad girlfriend, not an ex who no longer
cares.
“Okay, I’m sorry. Look what I got you.” He
puts the bag on the kitchen counter and
takes out different slabs of chocolate, a
packaged slice of carrot cake and packets of
chips and cheese crackers.
He looks at me, I’m standing with my eyes
cold and arms folded, he expects me to be
happy. To jump up and down like a kid,
because women can be easily bought off
with a plastic of goodies.
His smile disappears, the dog cage is on my
floor and it doesn’t sound like the dog inside
is happy. He doesn’t own a dog, that I know
and I’m sure of.
“Yini? What’s wrong?” Worry flitters across
his face, he tries to touch my hand but I pull
it back. Now he’s really worried, exactly what
I wanted from him- to be serious for once.
“Whose dog is this?” I ask.
“Do you like dogs?”
I live alone, maybe I’d love a dog, I just never
thought about it. I open the cage and take it
out. It’s a beautiful brown puppy, very clean
and charming. I let it run on the floor, it’s
kind of cute.
“It’s yours,” he says.
My eyes widen. Pets are expensive to buy
and to keep, in my life I’ve never been gifted
a pet. “Seriously?”
“Yes, it’s yours,” he says.
Yaaas! I want to smile but I need to keep my
angry face on otherwise he’ll always fuck up
and show up the next day with a dog.
“What did I do?” He still doesn’t understand
why I’m upset with him.
“Zamani you pulled a gun on me and stood
me up yesterday.”
“But I’m here trying to make up for my
mistakes.”
“You’re acting as if everything is normal.
How did you go through my gate because I
locked it?”
He looks away. I don’t even want to know
anymore, I turn and leave him in the kitchen
with his puppy. He keeps giving me reasons
not to trust him.
His footsteps are behind me, so is the puppy
running next to my legs.
I furiously stop and look at him. “Where did
you buy this puppy?”
He stammers, “From…umh…a puppy store.”
“The truth Zamani!”
“Fine, I took it from someone.”
“By force?” I raise my eyebrow.
“No…I mean, I was going to return it once
him and I settle out our bullshit.”
“How? You’ve already given me the puppy as
a gift.”
“Every man has a price, I’m going to pay him
for the dog.”
So basically he fought or argued with
someone and then left with his dog for
whatever reasons, and when he got here he
told me the dog is my gift, he bought it.
I really don’t know anymore. The most
complicated part is that he doesn’t even see
anything wrong in all this.
“Zaman if you want to be with me then you
have to come correct. Do normal things and
keep your promises,” I say.
“I do want to be with you. More than
anything I’ve ever wanted in life.”
I release a deep sigh and keep walking until
we get in the lounge. I sit, he stands behind
the couch.
“Ntoko can I ask you a question?”
I shrug my shoulders, turning the TV on, I
keep the volume low.
“You don’t see that I love you?” he asks.
“Love has to come with respect Zamani,” I
say.
“Okay, I hear. Can I ask for a favor?”
I thought that was our line, the girls and
asking favors.
“Please help me become the man you want,”
he says.
I turn my head and look at him. He’s not
playful, his eyes are full of desperation, he
wants me and maybe he loves me the way
he says he does, we just need to set certain
boundaries.
“I don’t want a man who comes to me
carrying a gun,” I say.
“That, I swear, will never happen again. I
swear on my mother’s grave, I will never do
anything to threaten or hurt you,” he says.
“No cheating,” I say.
He chuckles, I narrow my eyes.
“I’m not going to cheat,” he says.
“Who are you swearing on?” He’s the king of
swearing in people’s grave.
“On my brother’s grave,” he says.
My eyes widen. “You have a late brother?”
“No, Tusani.”
His childishness is what we are talking about
next. How can he swear on an alive person’s
grave?
“So you’re going to cheat?” I ask.
“No, I love you, there’d be no reason for me
to look anywhere else if I’m getting love from
you,” he says.
“My family hate you.”
He exhales faintly and nods. I don’t know if I
said that to warn him or to intentionally hurt
him.
“But I love you, and when they see a good
side of you that I know of, they’ll love you as
well,” I say.
He’s staring at me, softly, evident of deep
love. How can he be so imperfect yet so
alluring to love and hold? Our stare is broken
by the puppy. On second thought, I don’t
really love pets.
“I will put her back inside the cage, I want to
get fucked,” he says and picks the puppy
and walks away. Of course I have another
complaint to express, he can’t say things like
that, we just got back together.

He comes back unbuckling his belt and

undoing the jean button.
He smiles at my wide gaze, “MaAntiza left,
right?”
“Yeah but it doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep
with you.”
He sits next to me, very close.
“Have you been getting the vitamin
somewhere else?”
What an offensive question!
“No,” I say sternly.
“Then vula ngibone amalahle.”
Wow! I stand and fold my arms.
He pushes his jean to his knees and grins.
Does he take anything that’s not faking
jewelry seriously?
“I miss you sweerie, I haven’t been touched
since your birthday, the tank is full,” he says.
Oh Lord! “Zamani that’s not romantic.”
He chuckles, “I’m going to be romantic once
I’m buried inside you, woza phela.”
Ntoko stop!
I ignore the stupid voice of righteousness and
stand in front of him. He wraps his arms
around my legs and looks up at me. The
humor subsides, he’s not a sex beast
anymore, he’s suddenly looking serious.
“I meant it, please teach me how to love you,
I want to hold your hand and follow behind
you,” he says.
“I only need you to respect me and my
space.”
He nods, “I can do that.”
Then he presses his teeth over his lower lip
and softens his stare. I know he’s back at
being the man I tolerate but love very much.
Okay, he can take off that jean, and boxers
too. I’m in!
^
^
^
ZIBULO

His blood test came back and they couldn’t

find anything. He’s spending another night
away from his bed. He doesn’t want to sound
like a brat, Thando always has her ‘dying
people in public hospitals’ speeches ready.
He cannot keep complaining because he’s in
one of the best private hospitals in the
province and getting first-class treatment.
His phone rings as he attempts to close his
eyes for an afternoon nap. There’s nothing
one does in the hospital except sleeping.
He doesn’t know the number, he answers.
“It’s Mabhungu,” the caller says.
“Mabhungu who?” He’s being rude, he knows
very well this is his so-ca brother.
“Mabhungu Dunga. Have you done anything
about what I came to Durban to tell you
about?”
“I don’t remember what you told me about. I
just found you in my house and the only
thing I remember is you eating my food and
leaving with your van.”
“I don’t have time to argue with you Zibulo.
There was a white snake here with bump, it
must’ve swallowed a frog or something. But
that was another message.”
Zibulo blows out a sigh. “How is that any of
my business?”
“You have a girlfriend, I’m telling you to be
damn careful!”
Is this man shouting at him? He’s not one of
his village people who bow to him.
“I’m not your friend, don’t talk to me like
that. I have a girlfriend but that doesn’t
mean we have anything to do with
pregnancies. You also have a wife, why are
you making this about me?”
“MaMzotho tied her tubes, she can’t
conceive,” Mabhungu says calmer.
“Then why are you so worried? If this is
about me then let it be, I’m in the hospital, I
don’t have time to think about messages
your ancestors send.”
“What are you doing at the hospital?”
Mabhungu asks with worry.
“Obviously I’m not a doctor or any sort of
health worker, your father didn’t want me to
make it in life. I’m a patient,” he says.
“What’s wrong?” – Mabhungu.
“Nothing for you to worry about, I’ll be out
soon.”
“I’m coming tomorrow,” Mabhungu says,
now he sounds extremely worried.
“There’s no need, you have a wife at home
and…”
“I’m coming Zibulo,” with that said
Mabhungu ends the call.
^
^
^
MABHUNGU

MaMzotho comes home from work to find her

husband packing a bag. She wasn’t aware of
any trip, this is kind of surprising.
Mabhungu exhales as he lifts his head to her
walking in. He didn’t even get the chance to
defrost the meat for her.
“How was work?” he asks.
“It was okay. Why are you packing?”
“Zibulo in the hospital, I don’t know what’s
wrong, he refused to tell me.”
This is sad news. MaMzotho drops her bag
and helps him pack the toiletries.
“I hope it’s nothing hectic, you know medical
aid people can sleep at the hospital for
stomachache,” she says.
Mabhungu chuckles, “I doubt any man would
leave the comfort of his bed and woman and
go stay at the hospital for nothing.”
“I’m not saying he’s not sick, I’m just hoping
that’s the case,” she says.
“We’ll know tomorrow,” he says closing the
bag.
“How long do you think you’re going to
stay?”
“Maybe just two nights, depending on his
condition.”
So that’s two nights of her alone in the
house? Phewww.
“You’ll book into a BnB?” she asks.
He raises his eyes, “Yes, why do you ask?”
“Nothing Dunga, I know you will take care of
yourself.”
He swallows hard. She trusts him so much.
Way too much than he deserves.
“Of course I will take care of myself mkami,”
he says and pulls her in for a hug. He
embraces her tightly before passionately
kissing her lips.
She smiles, “You’ll find me home waiting for
you.”
His heart beats slowly. His hand trembles as
he lifts it to her cheek and caresses it
tenderly. “Are you tired today?”
“Ah, you know you go on for hours and leave
me tired.”
“I can be fast, I just don’t want to leave home
as a sexually-starved man.”
“Why? Is there any temptations in Durban?”
“No, no, not at all. I’m just…I want to have
you before I go, I miss you.”
She’s weak in the knees, when he looks at
her like this everything in her melts.
“Okay, let me bath and cook dinner first,”
she says.

CHAPTER 23
MABHUNGU

He’s here, he doesn’t expect Zibulo to accept

him or to be friendly. There’s a lot to talk
about, lot of issues to be ironed out and
reconciliation to be made in due time. He’s
here on his own, not as the king or Dunga’s
son. He’s shown Zibulo’s room and makes his
way there. He still doesn’t know what’s
wrong, Zibulo refused to tell him over the
phone.
When he walks in he’s sitting on the bed and
reading a book.
This is a fancy way of being sick. He’s at
ease when he sees that he’s not that sick. It
was probably an allergy or one of those fancy
sicknesses rich people get.
“Hey,” he says.
Zibulo doesn’t lift his face. He’s his father’s
son, whether he likes it or not, the level of
his stubbornness proves it.
“I came as soon as I could. What’s wrong?”
Mabhungu is four months younger but he’d
like to think he’s older than Zibulo. He wants
to take a senior role, after all he’s now the
leader of the Dunga royal family.
“You didn’t have to come, you’re not a
doctor or medical expert,” Zibulo says.
Mabhungu just looks at him.
“Do I need to ask the doctors?” Mabhungu
asks, calmly.
“Sometimes I don’t feel my legs, they just go
numb, so my girlfriend brought me here.
They’re still running other tests, they cannot
detect what’s wrong for now.”
What was hard about saying this all this
time?
“That’s strange. Do you think it’s more than
just a medical problem?”
“I don’t know Mabhungu, all I know is that I
want to go home to my bed, I cannot sleep
on this thing,” – Zibulo.
“Well, this thing is better than what people in
public hospitals sleep on.”
“That doesn’t invalidate the fact that I want
to go home.”
Mabhungu inhales sharply and pulls a chair
and sits. There’s a lot he’d like to talk to him
about, even giving him advice, but they’re
not there yet.
“Do you believe in traditional healers?” he
asks.
“No, I don’t. The same way I don’t believe in
kings, like yourself.”
“Well, if you did I would’ve suggested that
you consider them if the doctors fail to see
what’s wrong. A snake visited at home, it had
swallowed a frog or mouse, that
complemented with the dream that was
delivered to me.”
Zibulo closes the book and puts it on the
bedside cabinet and lies on his back.
“You’re married, right?”
Mabhungu nods, “Yeah.”
“Then what makes you so sure that you’re
not the one who’s going to have a baby? I
have told you my girlfriend is not pregnant,
she took the pill after we did unprotected
sex,” Zibulo asks.
“I told you my wife had her tubes tied. We
agreed before marriage that we are not
going to have kids,” he says.
“Maybe she changed her mind and untied
them. Every woman wants to be a mother,
just like every man wants to be a father.
You’re the odd one.”
“My wife is not pregnant, we hardly…” He
stops, TMI.
Zibulo chuckles, “You’re really strange.”
“My life doesn’t revolve around sex, I have
things to do.” He’s offended, there’s a lot
going on in his life with his wife, they hardly
get time to entertain their bodies.
“That’s why you have no glow,” Zibulo says.
Okay, there’s this annoying side of him.
“Cut it, I’m here to check on you patient, not
to talk about my private life.”
In the midst of that argument someone walks
in. She’s carrying a foodie bag for Zibulo,
when her eyes land on Mabhungu she stops.
Mabhungu looks up and his heart skips a
beat. This is a woman he planned to never
see again.
Yes, it’s Mercy Mchunu, she’s beautiful more
than ever. Her assets are hugged by a knee-
length black dress that she matched up with
nude heels and long curly wig.
“Sanibonani,” she says walking in.
Zibulo responds, Mabhungu doesn’t, his eyes
have dropped.
Thando walks in after her, there’s Siyabonga
behind her. Now it’s a full house, Mabhungu
suddenly feels out of place.
Mercy stands next to him, it takes a lot for
him not to lift his eyes to her. He doesn’t
want to look at her direction; he owes his
wife that much.
“Bayede!” Mercy says with a little bow.
Thando and the man she just walked in with
greet him the same way.
“I’m not a king here, I’m his brother,” he
says.
Siyabonga looks at him and Zibulo curiously.
“How come I never knew anything about you
until now?”
Zibulo gives him a look, “Are you here to see
me or him?”
There’s something in his tone. He still
doesn’t want to be acknowledged in the
same breath as Mabhungu, which furtherly
pushes him in the strange corner.
Mabhungu stands, “I have to make a phone
call.”
He’s running away from Mercy more than
he’s running away from the awkwardness of
feeling out of place when everyone have
things in common to talk about. They cannot
embrace him while his own brother doesn’t.

He’s calling MaMzotho to tell her that she can

relax, Zibulo’s sickness is nothing deadly, for
now.
“Mkami, am I disturbing you?”
“No Dunga, we can talk.”
Hearing his wife’s voice puts him at ease.
“I have seen him, he’s okay, it’s his legs
bothering him.”
“Oh, that’s good news in a way. Does he
think of coming home? Maybe it’s something
to do with the ancestors, remember what
was said the last time we invited Madlokovu
here, the ancestors are looking for his
mother’s grave. She was married before
them, no matter what had happened she
should’ve been buried here.”
Mabhungu exhales heavily, “I know mkami,
but it’s too soon for me to tell him those
things, we just got to know each other.”
“I know Dunga, I’m just glad you are there,”
she says.
“I will come home tomorrow, I already miss
you.”
There’s a soft chuckle. “You will find me
where you left me, just take care of yourself
there.”
“I will,” he says.
There are footsteps behind him. Suddenly his
shoulders feel heavy, he tenses up and turns
his head. Mercy stands just a foot away and
stares at him.
He’s still on the phone with MaMzotho.
“We will talk later, work well,” his voice is
unstable but not too obvious for MaMzotho to
pick up.
His hand drops from the ears, he slides his
phone back in the pocket.
“Hi Bayede,” – Mercy.
Deep breath…
“MaMchunu, how are you?”
“I’m okay,” her tone softens.
They stare at one another for a minute
without saying anything. He still wishes he
didn’t bump into her, not because he hates
her, she’s a lot to handle. Or hard not to
handle?
Then Mercy clears her throat,
“Same BnB?”
“No, MaMchunu!”
She smiles, there’s something irresistible
about that face.
“What? I don’t bite, I just want to keep you
company. Your brother is sick, I’m sure that’s
weighing heavily on you,” she says.
“MaMchunu, I’m married,” he says and
regrets it as soon as he sees the
disappointment flitting across her face. He
exhales softly, “Listen, I enjoyed your
company the last time, I just don’t want to
put my marriage at risk.”
“Okay, I understand, I’m sorry,” she says and
turns around to walk away. She’s not really
sorry, she’s angry but she knows she has no
right to be.
“Yes, same BnB,” he says behind her.
She turns and looks at him.
“Is that an invite?”
His stomach rumbles, he nods.
^
^
^
He’s been restless since he came from the
hospital. He has to make a call to his wife
before Mercy comes and he doesn’t trust his
own voice. He knows this is wrong because
that woman has stuck out for him, in every
way possible. But Mercy has a thing that’s so
irresistible. She knows it too, that’s why she
keeps throwing herself at him. He knows that
there’s a big chance that he’s just being used
in a slayqueen game. Mercy does not like
him, first impressions are always the realest
and Mercy wasn’t drawn to him upon
opening the door that day when they first
met. It was only after she found out who he
was and saw the ring on his finger. She
knows that he has responsibilities, a lot of
them. Maybe what she wants is a dick
without commitment. Whatever the case
may be, Mabhungu has partook in it and
betrayed his wife. Not once, but twice after
today.

He finally find the guts to call MaMzotho.

They talk but not too much she just got back
to work, she’s tired and she has to cook.
“I love you Nolundi, please always remember
that. I can marry you over and over again,”
he assures her before ending the call.
“I love you too Dunga,” she says.
He’s never doubted her love. He ends the
call feeling a bit lighter.
He leaves the door slightly open and goes to
lie in bed.
Shortly, his phone rings. It’s Mercy, she’s
here. Now it’s going to be harder because
she has his private cellphone number, they
exchanged numbers when they left the
hospital.
She’s wearing a long brown coat and thigh-
boots.
“Hello, I come with pizza!” she says walking
in with so much ecstasy and free spirit.
Mabhungu follows behind her.
She puts the box of pizza on the counter and
turns to face him.
“What’s wrong?” His face is just long and
depressed.
“Nothing, I was in bed when you called.”
“Okay, Mr Grumpy. Do you want to go back
to bed?”
“No, we can hang out,” he says.
She grabs two plates and looks for a drink in
the fridge, only to find 2L of Coke and bottles
of water. Coke will be fine with pizza, she
tells him to get two glasses and they go to
the couch.
“You love BnBs, why don’t you crash in at
your brother’s place wherever you are here?”
she asks.
“Ngizofeba kanjani uma sengisendlini
yakhe?” (how am I going to cheat in his
house)
Mercy laughs, but he doesn’t, it wasn’t
meant to be a joke.
“So you take this as cheating?” she asks.
“What is it? I have a wife at home and I’m
here entertaining you.”
Her eyes widen. “Entertaining?”
“Whenever I’m in Durban and you want to
fuck, I’m your man.”
She stops eating. “I can leave.”
A deep breath…
“I’m not angry at you, I hate myself for
continuously failing to say no to you. My wife
means a lot to me MaMchunu, that woman
has come through for me consistently, what
I’m doing to her is wrong. Very wrong!”
“As I said Mabhungu, I can leave, just say the
word,” she says.
“You know I cannot say leave,” he says.
“You can, you have a mouth.” She’s a little
feisty now.
He drops his eyes and exhales.
She dumps the plate of her pizza and stands
up.
She’s walking away, leaving.
Mabhungu stands and runs after her, at the
door he grabs her arm.
“MaMchunu,” he says softly, begging.
“What?” She’s angry.
“I’m sorry if what I said bruised you. I’m not
angry with you, I have nothing against you, I
do want to spend today with you.”
“You want to spend today with me?”
He nods, “I do, I’m just scared because I’m a
married man.”
“I respect that, that’s why I don’t bother you
when I’m not seeing you. I just want…I want
to sleep with a man who respects me like
you do. I don’t feel taken advantage of, I love
how you see me as a woman. It’s been
consistent, even that day after we had sex,
you didn’t treat me some type of way.”
“Do you want me to tell you what I like about
spending time with you?”
This is unexpected, she’s smiling.
“Yeah, tell me,” she says.
“You push me off the cliff, you cut the box
and take me out, you’re everything I’m afraid
of in a woman,” he says.
“Afraid?”
“Yeah, afraid.”
“Is it a good thing to scare a king?”
He chuckles, “My people would be mad. My
father would’ve been disappointed if he was
still alive because he always told me,
‘Mabhungu always stay in control.’”
“I will let you take all the control today,” she
says.
“Meaning?”
“You will tie me up and take control as a
king.”
^
^
^
He’s holding her legs, Mercy is lying on her
stomach with her hands tied on her back,
she’s going to be submissive the whole night.
He’s never done anything like this before,
she’s letting him do anything and spread her
legs anyway he wants.
He pulls them to either sides of his waist, in a
wheelbarrow position.
He enters her from behind in one long push
and moans in pleasure.
“Yes, fuck me baby!” – Mercy.
He slides out and goes in deeper. She cries
out, making a lot of noise. He grabs her
throat and pounds into her harder.
“Shhh!” He doesn’t really want her to be
quiet. He wants her to be loud, to scream his
name and beg for more. It turns him on.
“Sthandwa sami,”
Yes, that’s what she is now- sthandwa. “Cum
for me, I want you to spill on my dick,” he
says.
He unties her hands and puts her on her
back with her legs up. He wants to see her
face when she explodes. He presses her clit
with his finger and slides his dick in, he’s still
hard like he was in the first two rounds. He
cannot get enough of her.
“Touch me MaMchunu. I want your hands all
over me,” he says lying on her chest and
moving his waist gently in circles. Her hands
are running on his back and arms. He wants
her to have more freedom.
“Ngibambe yonke indawo MaMchunu,” he
whispers.
Mercy drops her hands to his butt, she
squeezes his buttocks as he pounds inside
her. He’s groaning like a bull.
“Please don’t stop, I’m cuming baby,” Mercy
moans and holds him tighter, buckling up her
hips to let him into the depths of her core.
“Faster baby,” she begs.
“Wait for me, I’m almost there.” He nibbles
on her lower lip and shuts his eyes tightly,
his strokes becoming more tense. “Come on
MaMchunu, let it all out on your man. Make
my dick wet, baby.”
Mercy’s body shakes violently. She wraps her
hands around his neck and grips tightly while
muttering inaudible words. Mabhungu feels
her fluids exploding on his dick and pulls out.
He does something he’s never done before,
licking a woman’s cum like a thirsty puppy.
He’s making licking sounds and moaning
while at it.
Then he stands next to her face and strokes
his dick with his hands.
Mercy opens her mouth, he shoots his spill
inside her and she swallows.
He lies next to her and brings her closer, he
turns her face and locks his salty lips on hers.
The kiss is passionate and deep, there’s
more to it than fantasy sex gratitude.

CHAPTER 24
NTOKO ZWANE

I’m about to knock off, I don’t have anything

planned except going home and going
through my fridge looking for leftovers
because I’m lazy to cook. I get a call from the
reception saying there’s someone for me
there. I will be out in 5 minutes, who could
that be? It may be an emergency from home
or something, so I leave everything behind
and rush to the reception area.
There’s a man in a firefighter uniform
standing with a bunch of flowers. When I see
his face my jaws drop. He’s not a firefighter,
WTF?
“Zamani,” I say in a low whisper, stepping
closer.
“Hey sweerie, you look so beautiful. I hope
nobody looked at my assets, I don’t trust
these nincompoops you call colleagues,” he
says loud enough for Zee on the desk to
hear.
“Let me get my bag and come back. I was
about to knock off,” I say.
“Take your flowers,” he says.
He wants me to show him off, I don’t know
why he feels like my male colleagues are a
threat. If I wanted them I would’ve dated
them before him.
But I don’t want to let him down in front of
Zee and her squad, so I take the bunch of
flowers and go back to my office with stares
accompanying me.
I get my bags and Zee’s documents and
leave the office. My hands are occupied, this
is the first time I have a man picking me up
from work with a bunch of flowers. But I don’t
even have time to digest it and enjoy the
moment because my mind is on when he’s
going to fuck up again.
I get in the car, there are Louis Vuitton
shopping bags on the seat at the back. I
don’t ask questions, I sit with my flowers on
the lap.
“Are you a firefighter now?” I ask.
“No, I was standing in for Mbongeni,” he
says.
“That happens vele, you can just wear the
uniform and go stand in for someone else
without experience?” I ask.
“I do have experience, I was working with
them for 2 years,” he says.
Maybe I’m too judgmental. Who can blame
me? He gifted me a stolen puppy.
“At some point you need to open your heart
and let me in,” he says.
“I did open my heart,” I know, deep down in
my heart, that this is not true. He’s right, I
love him but I haven’t opened my heart for
him yet.
“We are going to eat out, Tusani is joining
us,” he says.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? What if I
don’t have an outfit?”
“I got you covered sweerie,” he says.
“How do you know my sizes? And what did
you buy me?” I’m not into big brands but
having a man buying me my first Louis
Vuitton kinda leaves me feeling like Beyonce.
“I go through miles for you sweerie. And
before you ask, no I did not break into a
Louis Vuitton shop and steal them,” he says.
“I wasn’t gonna say that, I know you make a
fortune out of fake jewelry,” I say.
He laughs, “Wait, there’s a but.”
My eyes widen.
“I called your sister, Thando, and said you
put her number as an alternative on the
competition and you’ve won some clothes so
I need your sizes.”
I cannot deal with this man. I can’t help but
laugh out my ass out. He really does go
through my miles for me, even though he
takes short-cuts sometimes.

I’m looking forward to fitting my new clothes.

There’s a dress, two pairs of boots and a
purse. We all know expensive brands make
ugly clothes, just looking at the dress I know I
won’t wear it unless I want to show off to
someone. It’s going to be my beautiful asset
in the wardrobe, a legacy for my children.
I pick another dress and match it with flat
sandals. I was wearing high heels at home,
I’m tired, I need my legs to rest. I only take
my LV purse, I’d be carrying to work
tomorrow as well.
He frowns when I walk out of the room.
“Didn’t you look the clothes I bought you?”
“I did, they’re for special occasions,” I say.
He sighs, “Next time I will give you money
and you’ll buy yourself, clearly you don’t like
my style.”
“No babe, I love the clothes.” I go over him
and give him a kiss.
Beside them being ugly, their price is too
expensive for me to wear at an ordinary
dinner with his brother.
He wraps his hand around my neck and
deepens the kiss.
I pull back, if I don’t he will take things too
far.
“Later, right?” he asks.
I laugh, “What’s happening later?”
“You’ll give me some ass?”
“Maybe,” I pull his hand. “Let’s go, I’m
hungry.”
^
^
^
We are dining at the 9th Avenue Waterside.
Tusani is not here yet, but we have gotten
our table and ordered. We are having braised
lamb shoulder and veggies. He ordered a
beef fillet for his brother.
“Tomorrow I want you to meet someone
special,” he says.
“Alright. Is it another girlfriend?” I ask.
He laughs, “You want to come with a loaded
gun? No, I don’t have another girlfriend, only
crazy ex’s I have dealt with. I want you to
meet my father’s friend, he’s the only person
I look up to now and hold up to a parent
standard. He’s been there for me and Tusani
since the death of our father. He’s always
encouraged us to find love, and I have found
you, so he has to meet you.”
You can hear that he loves this man, he
speaks about him with so much passion and
respect. It’s still early for such introductions,
I don’t know where this is going yet, but I
want to meet someone who’s known him
from childhood, maybe he’ll shed some light
regarding certain things.
“Do I have to dress up like a future wife?” I
ask.
“No, be the girl I fell in love with, the
stubborn Nontokomalo who forgive people
after 10 years,” he says.
“Was that a shade?”
“Yes, I’m savage.”
We don’t see Tusani coming in, he appears
behind his brother with a sigh.
“Okay, who’s savage?”
He gives me a little shoulder hug before
sitting down.
“Why did I invite this boy here again?” –
Zamani.
Tusani laughs, “Tough! I’m already here,
what do I have here? Beef fillet. Why is it so
small, I’m a Zulu man.”
“Eat and be grateful,” Zamani says.
I take a sip of my drink. They’re still fooling
around as siblings.
“I almost came with someone,” Tusani says.
“To my dinner to eat my money?”
“She’s my girlfriend,” Tusani.
“Take her to KFC and spoil her with
streetwise-two.”
I take another sip. They’re laughing.
Tusani looks at me, only now they remember
that this is not a brothers dinner.
“Sisi, how have you been?” he asks.
“I’ve been good Tusani, thank you.” One
thing about Tusani, he’s always genuine, you
cannot question what he says because he
doesn’t fool around like his brother. I swear
they swapped roles, he took my man’s
maturity.
“Is it official again?” He looks at Zamani.
Zamani looks at me before he answers,
“Yes, she’s my girlfriend, for good this time.”
“For good if he doesn’t mess up,” I say.
Tusani nods, “I hope he doesn’t, you need to
be around.”
I don’t know what he means by me needing
to be around but I have to tell this man one
thing I’m sure he hasn’t heard from me
lately.
“I love you Zamani,” I say.
There’s something in his eyes, something
very touchy and genuine.
“Thank you,” he says and pulls my hand and
plants a kiss on it. “I love you too sweerie,
more than you think and more than I know
how to handle. What I know is, I want this to
work. This is my family; you and this fool
chowing my money. I want this to be a
foundation structure for a vision that I have
to take us forward and to help me become a
man you can proud of sweerie.”
“What is the vision?” I ask.
“I’m going to venture into the hospitality
industry. I have already spoken to some
people, I know where to start and who to
contact, I just need time to tie some loose
ends,” he says.
“Wow, okay. I’m here for you guys, whenever
you think you need my help, just call.” I’m
proud of them. They had this vision before I
came into their lives, I’m just a motivation for
him to step up sooner.
We leave the restaurant and take Tusani to
his place since he came with an Uber. I didn’t
bring anything, I wasn’t told about a sleep-
over, but he says everything will be sorted
and he will drive me to work in the morning.
Today has been good, I’m hoping for no
Queen drama, I just want to spend time with
my boyfriend. I’m all in, willing to give it
another try. I know my family will be mad but
they’ll have to deal with it, nobody is perfect.
I’m drinking water, standing in front of the
fridge thinking about the future, it looks
promising for now. His hands sneak around
my waist, his front leans onto me, then he
drops his head to the side of my neck and
kisses me.
I love neck kisses, they give me skin bubbles.
“You promised me something girl,” he says.
I laugh at him calling me ‘girl’, it’s so
awkward.
“Really?” I ask.
“Yes,” he grabs my butt. “This, you said
you’d give me later, which is now.”
“Can’t we have a drink and cuddle before
you fuck me?”
“No, I won’t fuck you, I will make love to you.
Like this,” he presses his front on my butt
and moves his hips, dry-humping me.
I turn around and kiss him.
“Drinks first, making love later,” I say wiping
his lip with my thumb.
“Yes, mam, your pussy, your rules. Go and
relax on the couch, I will come with the
drinks. Do you want us to do bottoms-up?”
He always talks about things I have no
knowledge of.
“What is that?” I ask.
“You don’t know bottoms-up? Fuck, I forget
that you’re a church-girl.”
I walk away before I talk back.

Whoooah! What’s that bottle? I was talking

about wine, not something that will get me
drunk and hung-over at work.
“Baby, you’ll get me drunk!”
He chuckles, “And your Christian ass doesn’t
want to get drunk? Come on sweerie, there’s
nothing wrong in having fun with your
boyfriend.”
“So you’re calling me a Christan ass? Okay,
bring it on.” I’m definitely using my ass to
think right now, not my brains.
“We are going to lick, then bottoms-up, and
suck.”
I don’t know what that means, I look at him.
He pours a pinch of salt in his left hand, I do
the same.
“When I say bottoms-up, you drink
everything in your glass and then suck your
lemon slice,” he says.
I need to do push-ups for this.
“Okay, I’m ready,” I say.
He picks his glass, I pick mine.
“Bottoms up!”
Oh God, my body trembles, I feel my chest
burn.
“Suck,” he says.
I reach for a slice of lemon and suck it.
Okay, this is fun.
“Another round,” I say.
He laughs, “Are you sure?”
“Let’s go my Chun-Lee!”
He pours again. We lick salt off our left
hands, pick our glasses and bottoms up, and
suck. We are doing round after round, I’ve
never had so much illegal fun in my life.
---

We ran out of something, I don’t remember

what it was, it could’ve dash or lemon, it was
something stupid though.
I remember us getting in the car and driving
off, we were kak-drunk.
CHAPTER 25
THANDO ZWANE

Zibulo is still at the hospital but with his

brother around, even though it’s said he’s
leaving later today, I don’t feel like I’m alone.
I just got out of the shower, I’m getting ready
to go drop some stuff at the hospital. My
phone rings, I pick it up, I don’t recognize
this number.
“Thando, it’s me,” that’s my sister’s voice.
“Ntoko? Is everything okay?”
“No, I was arrested last night with Zamani.”
Not this Zamani person again!
“Arrested for what?” I’m in disbelief, what in
the fuckin’ hell?!
“We were on the road drunk, I don’t know
what else happened but we were not
involved in any accident, the car is fine, so
are we.”
“Drunk Ntoko?” Yes, we do sip wine and get
tipsy. But getting drunk and driving with a
man who’s also drunk? That’s very low of
her.
“I’m at Point, but Zamani has talked to his
lawyer, we will get out before 10am. I just
need one favor from you; report me at work,”
she says.
“I hope this experience will make you sit
down and think about your life, who you
want to associate yourself with, before you
lose everything that you have.” I drop the
call after giving her a lecture. I’m not a great
role model but I’m disappointed in Ntoko,
she’s better than this. Next she will be
arrested for drugs, this is just a tip of the
iceberg. But I will call her work and say
whatever lie to save her job.
^
^
^

I call Setha on my way to the hospital, we

need to come up with Operation-Gudluz’
uZamani, before we lose our sister.
“Hey Thando, have you heard from Ntoko?”
“She’s in prison,” I exaggerate, she’s just in a
holding cell or chilling with corrupt police
officers having coffee and bribe while waiting
for Zamani’s lawyer.
“Prison?” she asks.
“She’s at the police station in Point, her and
Zamani were drinking and driving at night
and they were caught. I spoke to her thirty
minutes ago and they were waiting for the
lawyer,” I say.
“That’s fucked up. Since when does she
drinks uncontrollable like that?”
“Well, since Zamani came into his life,” I say.
“This guy doesn’t stop. What’s even more
weird is that she keeps allowing him to put
her in difficult situations like this. Do we tell
mom and dad?”
“No, we can sort this out on our own.” I’m
everything but not a snitch.
“How? What makes you think we can make
her leave him, she stayed with him after he
pointed a gun on her?”
“I don’t know but we have to do something,”
I say with a faint sigh.
“Okay, let’s talk about it later. How’s
Zibulo?”
“Still at the hospital, the doctors haven’t
found anything.”
“Has he ever thought of consulting spiritual
or traditional healers?”
“You have no idea how hard his head is, even
his brother failed to get through him. I don’t
know what the outcome of this is going to be,
I’m just praying for the best.”
“He’s in my prayers as well, tell him so that
he can pay me once he’s okay.”
This idiot! I’m laughing in this sour morning.

Okay, I have a problem. It has two legs, and

a very sexy body, it’s very beautiful, but my
thing with it is that it comes here to tell
Zibulo about work while he’s hospitalized. I
don’t know what email she’s reading out loud
for him but the doctor said he must rest.
“Mercy, seriously?” I’m walking in.
“Oh, hey babe, you look nice.”
“Thanks. Why are you bringing work here?”
“It’s just an email, nothing stressful.”
“Still, this person needs to rest,” I pull a chair
and sit.
I look at him, he’s staring right back at me. I
know he hates being here, it’s been a couple
of days and there’s still nothing the doctors
find in the several blood tests they have
taken.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Like crap,” he says.
“Did you sleep well?”
“No,” he says.
I don’t think being in the hospital, a private
one for that matter, is horrible as he makes it
to be.
“When is your brother leaving?”
“He said later today.”
They don’t have the best brotherhood, he’s
not opening up or welcoming towards
Mabhungu. I don’t know, maybe he’s still
punishing him for their father’s sins.
Mabhungu is a good man, you can tell that
he doesn’t fear much in life, even rejection. I
know they’ll be okay one day, they’ll look
back at these days and laugh about it.
“Let me leave you two to kiss,” Mercy says
standing up.
I notice some bruises around her wrists but I
don’t ask because her and I are still not
besties, even though we talk frequently now
and get along.
Out of the blue Mercy loses balance and
almost falls. I dash towards her and help her
sit down.
“What’s wrong babe?” I’m in panic. Not a
visitor turning into a patient!
“I feel nauseous,” she says.
“Let’s go to the bathrooms,” I help her off
the chair.
We go to the bathroom, she holds onto the
toilet seat and throws up. Fuck, she’s really
sick. I rush out and get her a bottle of water.
“Did you eat something that upset your
stomach?” I ask.
She’s washing her face, she looks very pale.
“Eggs,” she says.
“Are you pregnant?” That’s the first thing
that comes to my mind. I mean, most people
I know who’ve been pregnant threw up after
eating eggs.
“What? No.” She looks rather shocked than
convincing.
“Then what’s happening?” I ask.
“Fuck! I don’t know,” she grabs water and
gulps it down. Then her hand drops to her
stomach, she’s silently asking herself the
same question I just asked her.
“I’m on contraceptives,” she says.
“And you use protection, right?”
Her face tells me no, wtf!
“Mercy!” We were talking about this when I
took a pill, she was very confident in herself,
and now we are here.
“No Thando, it can’t be. I think I have an
allergy or something. No, never!”
I put my hands up in surrender. Fine, you’re
having an allergy.
“Please get my bag, I have to go,” she says.
I fetch her bag and bring it back to her. She
looks nervous, her hand keeps going to her
stomach.
“What happened to your wrists?” I ask out of
curiosity.
She looks at them, exhales heavily and
leaves.
Zibulo is worried about her. I don’t think
she’s really sick, it’s probably what I suspect
it is. But I cannot speak about it to her boss
yet.
“I miss you baby,” I say to bring some light
into the conversation.
“They’re keeping me here nje,” he’s fed up.
“Let’s give them another day, then we’ll seek
else where if this fails.”
“Seek elsewhere?” He raises his eyebrow.
“Well, if the problem persists,” I say.
He doesn’t respond. It’s going to be a job and
a half to get this man to agree to help
himself. I’m facing a very strange and
difficult situation here.
“Mabhungu still thinks you’re pregnant,” he
says.
The king mustn’t play like that. I don’t want
to be a second Mercy.
“But I’m not,” I say.
“I told him but he doesn’t believe me. He’s
convinced that it’s me because he had his
wife tie her tubes before they got married, so
in his head the dream is directed to me,” he
says.
See, this here makes me doubt myself.
“But I would know if I’m pregnant, right? And
I took the morning-after pill, we haven’t done
anything since then,” I say.
He opens his hand, I place mine on it.
“I love you Thando,” he says.
“I love you too baby, that’s why I want you to
get help. Maybe we can make babies, who
knows.” Things we say to impress men!
“I just want you, I miss being home.”
“Soon baby, I will be giving you anything you
want, however you want it.”
“Really baby?” He’s biting his lip.
“Yeah, really, yonke into emnandi
nefudumele.”
Someone clears his throat…
It’s the doctor. I pull my hand and sit up
straight.
“I’m sorry to disturb, I need to see how my
patient is doing.”
Can I scream?
^
^
^
MERCY

Maybe she went too far. No, not maybe, she

went too fuckin’ far. There’s a lot racing
through her mind as she drives towards St
Augustine in Marks Rd. This is one of the
most anxious drives she’s ever taken; she
doesn’t know what this appointment holds
for her. She pulled a few strings and got her
appointment before 12pm. Yes, she’s here to
see a gynecologist who will put her at ease
about what Thando assumed.
She has to know today and take swift
actions. One thing she’s sure of is that she’s
not ready to be a single mother to a baby
she made with an unwilling married man.
Growing up she always told herself she didn’t
need a man to validate her feelings or
anything because a superhero that her
mother was had done everything on her own
without any help of a man. That’s why she’s
never believed in any man, until a stupid
thing, being addressed as MaMchunu for the
first time after her father did on his
deathbed, made her want Mabhungu for
herself for a few hours. That was one time
she felt something that was close to a father
love, unfortunately he was no more a few
hours after that. Her father had left their
mother to fend for herself and her children
alone for years. He only came back as a sick
man, Mercy was already done with high
school and starting college. She hated her
father, that’s what she’s always known. But a
part of her wanted to know more of a man,
there’s something significant that was
planted by those few minutes she stayed
with him on his deathbed, watching him
struggle to breathe and calling her
MaMchunu.
Mabhungu is a responsible man, that you can
tell from a distance. She wanted to feel how
it’s like to be cared for deeply and respected
by a man. In wanting to feel that she didn’t
want it to come with responsibilities, hence it
was okay with her for him to be a married
man.
They didn’t use protection the first time, she
didn’t worry about it that much because
she’s on the pill, even though it’s not
consistent. She cannot be a mother, that’s
not something she’d even consider under
any circumstances.

The fact that she’s even sitting here

explaining to the gynecologist why she’s a
pregnancy suspect and sweating is crazy.
“I’ve been feeling unwell in the mornings but
I dismissed it as fatigue from work, until
today when I vomited,” she says.
“Okay, we will run the tests. First, urine
testing, to put you on a safer side we will do
blood tests as well, which will be available
after 24 hours. Then we can take it from
there.”
Taking it from there means staying away
from unprotected sex or abortion, if there’s
something. She goes to the bathroom to
urinate and comes back silently praying hard
like a spiritual possessed woman. This is the
scariest thing she’s ever done.
She watches in silence, rubbing her sweaty
hands and trying to control her hard breaths.
“What do we have here?” the doctor passes
the test tube to her and says, “Two lines.”
Breathe in, and out!
“Is that positive?” Her L.O teacher would be
disappointed in this question.
“Yes, it shows that you are pregnant.”
“Where can I do abortion?”
The doctor looks surprised. What? Did she
think she’ll be over the moon? No, she’s
getting rid of it.
“We have to be sure you’re pregnant,” she
says.
Mercy exhales, “I don’t have 24 hours to wait
for blood test results, the thing will grow.”
“It’s still a safe stage. But we can do a pelvic
scan.”
“Fine, let’s do that and get the abortion
process started.”
She takes her panties off and lies on the bed
with her knees up. The doctor places a probe
in her vagina. Right now she doesn’t care
about anything else except getting this done
and over with.
“Am I pregnant or not?” She’s running out of
patience.
“It shows that you are. Wait a second, there’s
something I can’t see clearly. The fetus is
still about 4 inches from the top of the head
to the rump. There seems to be more than
one heartbeat but I can only see one foetus.”
“Whaaat?” She sits up.
“Please relax and lie down.”
“No, did you just say more than one
heartbeat? What does that mean?”
“It means there are two more fetuses, I just
can’t locate them.”
“Two more? What are you talking about?”
She gets on her feet and pulls down her
dress.
“I detected three heartbeats and one fetus, it
could be that two others are located
somewhere else and hiding, I can only locate
them after a certain period of time.”
“Three heartbeats? Three babies?” – Mercy.
Is abortion even possible? One fetus, she
could’ve terminated. But three, God is
testing her!
“Let’s go back to the office and have a chat.
Multifetal pregnancy presents higher risks
than normal pregnancy. This is a high-order
multifetal pregnancy, you need counseling
first and then we can explore options like
reduction and so forth.”
“I need water and to pee,” she says.
CHAPTER 26
MABHUNGU

He’s heading back home this afternoon. He’s

now paying the last visit to Zibulo at the
hospital. He’s already packed and checked
out at the BnB.
Zibulo probably won’t even eat these but he
brought him fruits from the street market.
It’s what everyone does when they’re visiting
someone at the hospital.
He’s alone this time, his girlfriend and
employees are not around.
“How are you feeling?” Mabhungu asks
placing the black plastic bag with fruits on
top of the cabinet next to his bed.
“I’m okay, what is that?” – Zibulo.
“Fruits,” Mabhungu says.
“From where? Why is the bag black and
shady?”
“I bought them from a woman on the streets,
she was clean.”
“Okay, thank you.”
That was unexpected, he complains almost
about everything that’s not luxurious.
“I have to go back home, my wife is
expecting me today, but we’ll communicate
over the phones,” Mabhungu says.
Zibulo exhales softly and stares at the
ceiling.
“I need to get out of here, Mercy is sick,
things will fall apart. But Thando wants me to
stay one more day,” he says.
“What’s wrong with MaMchunu?”
Zibulo looks at him weirdly, “I don’t know,
she almost fainted here in the morning, she
was vomiting and all.”
“That’s strange,” – Mabhungu.
Zibulo raises his eyebrow, “Strange? People
get sick all the time.”
“No, I’m just saying she was okay yesterday
and now she’s sick.” This visibly disturbs
Mabhungu, he cannot hide the distress in his
voice.
“She will be okay, she went to see the
doctor,” Zibulo says.
“Mmmm,” he’s zoned out.
Zibulo stares at him, noticing something
strange.
“Mercy is beautiful but you are a married
man,” he says.
Mabhungu looks at him, “What?”
“Yesterday when she came you walked out,
then she followed you and you both walked
back in after some time,” Zibulo says.
“Maybe you should let them check your eyes
too, there was no such.”
“Okay Bayede.”
^
^
^
He’s still parked outside the hospital trying to
get hold of Mercy. He cannot go home not
knowing what’s going on. They are not lovers
but a part of him cares deeply for her. They
were together last night, which is probably
the best night he’s had in ages, what went
wrong? She was okay when she left this
morning.
He sends messages and leaves voice notes
begging her to answer his calls or send him a
text saying she’s fine. But she doesn’t, he’s
about to lose his mind.
He leaves one last voice note;
*I really hope you’re okay MaMchunu,
I’m worried about you but I understand
if you don’t want to talk to me about it.
I will follow up through Zibulo, take care
of yourself.*
Last night was crazy, he’s tired but he has to
drive and get home before his wife goes to
bed. He bought her a couple of decorations
from Durban station that he’s sure she’s
going to love. It’s part of guilt that pushed
him to it. After last night he cannot even call
it a mistake anymore. Mercy wanted to leave
but he stopped her. There wasn’t a time at
night when he thought of his wife who was
sleeping alone in their bed throughout the
night.

He gets home feeling more tired than he

was. If it was up to him he would just go
straight to bed, but MaMzotho has a dish of
warm beans and steamed bread waiting for
him. There’s a case he needs to hold a
hearing meeting for tomorrow with two
families, she wants them to discuss that.
“You look tired Dunga,” she points out.
“I am tired, it’s been a long drive.”
“Okay, continue eating, I’ll go and prepare
water for you.”
“Thank you mkami.”
MaMzotho walks out to get water from the
tap outside. He uses the minute to check his
texts, Mercy still hasn’t responded. Maybe he
should call Zibulo before he sleeps and ask if
there’s any news. But no, that would confirm
Zibulo’s suspicions.
MaMzotho walks back in, he slides his phone
into the pocket and yawns. He’s only eaten
quarter of his food, he’s not that hungry.
“You’re full already?” she asks, she was tired
when she cooked but she put so much effort
making this meal.
“I will keep it in the fridge and eat in the
morning,” he says guiltily.
MaMzotho collects the plate and puts it in the
fridge before proceeding to plug water for his
bath. He’s falling asleep on the table.
“Hhayi no Dunga, you have to take a bath,”
MaMzotho exclaims.
He lifts his head up and stands. He goes to
the bedroom to undress and comes back to
his water ready.
Five minutes later he’s done bathing, he’s in
his shorts and climbing on the bed.
“Let me give you a back massage,”
MaMzotho says, joining him in her nightie
with massage oil that she uses for her feet.
“Mmm, please mama.” He turns and lies on
his stomach.
MaMzotho drops oil on his palm and gently
applies it on his shoulders.
“Just relax,” she says in a low whisper rolling
her fists down the expanse of his back.
“You have bruises, what scratched you
here?”
Mercy’s long nails, damn!
“I don’t know,” he says, as calm as he could
be.
“Do you want me to kiss your scars like they
do in the movies?” Before he can say no he
feels her soft lips on his back, kissing the
scratches. She wants sex, she just won’t say
it.
But guilt grabs Mabhungu by balls. His whole
body tenses up, he shifts and turns on his
back. He looks shaken.
“Let’s sleep sthandwa sami,” he says.
MaMzotho raises her eyebrows. “You don’t
like my massage?”
“I do, I just want us to sleep.”
She’s staring at him for a second, then she
asks, “What scratched your back
Mabhungu?”
Fear flutters across his face.
“Maybe I sat against something, I don’t
know,” he says.
“You sat against something? Okay.”
He takes a deep breath and pulls her into his
arms.
“I missed you,” he says.
“Yet you haven’t given me even a kiss.”
“I’m sorry mkami, I’m tired,” he tries to pull
her face but she turns it to the side.
“Are you angry with me?”
“No, I’m not.” She releases a low sigh and
lies on his chest.
“Ngiyakuthanda Nolundi,” he says.
“I know, I’m just…I was hoping we’d do
something before we sleep. I know I don’t
take care of you as I should, I’ve been
thinking about quitting work and trying a
business I can run from home, that way I can
have time for you whenever you need me.”
“I’m not complaining about anything, I’m
satisfied,” he says.
“Are you?” She raises her eyebrow.
“I am, you make me happy and you satisfy
me.”
“Okay, maybe in the morning?”
He smiles and leans down for a kiss.
“Yeah, in the morning,” he says.
^
^
^
MaMzotho wakes up to a man staring at her.
Not affectionately, it looks like he’s in deep
thoughts. As soon as he realizes that she’s
awake he takes his eyes off.
“Is everything alright?” MaMzotho asks.
“Yes, everything is alright. You are beautiful
when you’re asleep.”
“And ugly when I’m not?”
He chuckles, “No, you are more beautiful
when you’re awake.”
“Thank you, you’re handsome as well. It’s a
Durban glow.”
Deep breath…
He gets back under covers and pulls her
closer. His hand sneaks under her nightie, he
captures her lips in an intimate kiss and
brushes her mound.
“How has she been?” he asks, separating her
folds with his finger.
“Cold,” MaMzotho says shyly.
“Cold? Isn’t she always warm under the
panties. Unless if you took them off.” He
doesn’t mean this in a bad way, it’s not an
accusation. But MaMzotho receives it as one.
“I didn’t take my panties off for anyone,” she
says.
“I’m just kidding sthandwa, I know you didn’t
anything like that, uxolo.”
She nods, “Forgiven.”
“You don’t want to take my shorts off?”
“You need help?” She smiles and pushes
down his shorts. There’s no underwear, her
hand grabs his erect shaft and strokes it.
“When did you shave the hair?”
His heart almost stops.
“Before I left for Durban, the area was itchy.”
“We made love before you left,” she says not
believing him.
“After that, when I was taking a bath.”
“Okay, I’m the only one with a bush now.”
Okay, she’s not angry.
Relief! He rubs her clit and locks eyes with
her.
“I like it this way; hairy and fat,” he says.
MaMzotho blushes and puts more pressure
stroking his shaft.
“Were you missing me?” he asks breathing
heavily.
“Way too much,” she says.
“Did you play with yourself?”
She chuckles, “No, I was waiting for you.”
“The wait is over, my love.”
He flips over her and pulls the covers over
them. He spreads her legs to the sides and
dips his shaft in, she wet and ready. He
captures her lips in another steamy kiss,
they’re both moaning in each other’s mouth,
he’s sliding into her inch by inch.
“Oh Dunga, I missed you,” she cries out.
He pushes in until he’s fitted the whole shaft
inside her, then he drops his head onto hers
and calls her name softly.
“Mama wakwami,” he whispers.
“Yes, sthandwa?”
“You’re my home, my shelter, my
everything.”
“Oh Dunga! Aw, yeah, yeah!”
“Yeah, mama!”
He peels off the covers and brings her legs
up to his shoulders.
“Hold your tits,” he sounds like a different
person.
MaMzotho does with no hesitation, sex
makes people do and say crazy things.
“I’m fucking you,” he says, pounding harder.
MaMzotho’s mouth is loosely open, he’s in
too deep.
“Slow down baba,” she begs.
“Okay mama, please give from behind so
that I’ll cum quick.”
“Huh?”
“Dunusa Nolundi.”
He pulls out and moves to the side.
MaMzotho hesitantly turns and lies on her
stomach.
“Bring your ass up a little,” he pulls her and
positions her with her chest pressed on the
bed.
“Yoh, ngeke!” MaMzotho exclaims.
He takes a pillow and inserts it under her
tummy.
She’s now comfortable, he spreads her thick
buttocks and slides in gently. He knows he
won’t last long from this position, he tries not
to put intense pressure on his strokes.
Regardless of his control, he falls apart and
split inside her within the next few minutes.
MaMzotho hasn’t reached her end-point yet.
He pushes her down on her back again and
pushes her knees up.
She’s dripping with his sperms and looks a
bit swollen.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks wiping her gently
with a towel.
“Just a little,” she says.
“Can I kiss it better?”
She smiles, “Yeah.”
He pushes his head between her thighs and
licks her from the opening to her clit and
then sucks her big clit smoothly. He spits on
it and sucks again, and licks the sides of her
folds and down to her opening again. He
inserts his finger and rotates it inside her,
she sprays out some juices, he slurps on
them like a thirst puppy.
“Baba! This is too much, hhayi!” She’s
breathless.
She’s closing her and opening her legs.
There’s a soothing hot feeling taking over her
coochie, she’s out of control.
“Oh nkosi yami, babaaa!”
Mabhungu moans with her clit caught
between his lips. He lifts his eyes to her, the
face he sees gives him satisfaction.
He inserts two fingers and pulls them out and
rubs her juices on her clit and sucks it with a
deep moan. MaMzotho screams on top of her
voice and explodes on his face.
He spanks her coochie and laughs, she’s still
shaking. He rubs her clit again, harder this
time, she lets the water out.
“Mabhungu, no!” she holds back.
He slaps her mound and rubs her clit again.
She’s in a position of weakness, with no
control.
She waters the bed wet, this man is not
helping her gets her brakes back, he’s
rubbing her clit and telling her to give him
more. For a minute she’s out of it, completely
zoned away to the cloud of pleasure.
He’s staring at her face, finally she opens her
eyes and looks at him.
“Hello,” he says with a grin.
“That was not fair, I pissed on the bed,” she
says.
He leans over and kisses her lips
passionately.
“It’s our bed, you have every right to squirt
on it. You looked so damn sexy, I want to eat
you up,” he’s licking his lips, his eyes are
filled with so much lust.
“It was embarrassing but I liked it. Who knew
there was such a naughty side in you? What
did I do to deserve that?”
“You woke up next to me,” he says.
She smiles, “I want to take a little nap but
I’m already late.”
“Maybe you were right about quitting work. It
will give us more time together, I don’t want
anything to get in between us. I’m not
perfect but I love you Nolundi. I cannot
imagine my life without you.”
“You want me to cry,” she flutters her eyes
and looks away.
He smiles and kisses her lips.
“I will prepare your water and lunchbox.”
^
^
^
He drove his wife to work and came back to
prepare for the hearing. This morning was
pure bliss, he got out of his shell and took
care of his wife’s coochie. Her clit should
tweak everytime she thinks of him. They’re
yet to conclude about her quitting work but
it’s a good idea. They will have more time
together and she won’t be always tired. But
they still need to come up with home
business ideas.
He needs to call induna, his phone is in the
bedroom. He fetches it and sits on the couch.
There’s an icon indicating that he received a
few messages.
One is from Mercy, his finger trembles as he
clicks on it.
*I’m okay, it was flu, you don’t need to
worry.*
CHAPTER 27
NTOKO ZWANE

My sisters are coming over for dinner. I know

this is not a friendly sister visit, they’re
coming to give me a lecture. I got drunk the
other day and ended up being arrested with
Zamani. I think that would go down as the
craziest day of my life. If it was up to Thando
I’d be praying and asking God for forgiveness
and dumping Zamani who’s a bad influence
in my life. An old Ntoko would’ve done all
that, but I’m like fuck it. So what if I got
drunk and arrested? I love Zamani, he’s
crazy and he’s the complete opposite of what
Ntoko is all about. I’m a career woman with
her own things and deacon father. I’m the
first one in my family to ever spend a night
at the police station. When we were released
in the morning I was dying from hang-over,
we went back to his house, drank ciders and
fucked and slept the whole day.
He went to Empangeni today, he’s meeting
up with some people to discuss his business.
He’s the type that put action into his words. I
don’t have any doubt because he wants to
change, I didn’t force him to.
There’s a car driving in, I embrace myself for
a sermon.
Thando walks in first. Setha follows, still in
her work uniform, Thando is on some village
wife look. I’m sitting with a glass of red wine,
they’re judging it before they even sit.
“You’re drinking again?” – Setha.
“If I was you I wouldn’t have touched alcohol
for a year or two,” Thando adds.
“Luckily neither of you are me,” I say.
Sighs.
They sit.
“Where’s Zamani?” Thando asks.
Setha giggles, “The gangleader.”
“He’s at Empangeni for business.”
They share a look.
“Business?” Setha.
“Yeah, he wants to venture into the
hospitality industry.” Right now I’m not
desperate for anyone to like him because I
know he’s not an easy person to like. They
might like him one day, maybe in a couple of
years to come.
“Why do you want to be a part of his life?
There’s no order there, you’ve witnessed
that,” Thando is a big sister throwing all the
hard questions.
“I love him, the same way you love Zibulo
with his multiple personalities.”
“Why are you fighting? Zibulo never pointed
a gun on me and got me drunk and
arrested,” she says.
“And Zamani has never stalked me.”
Setha just had to jump in.
“You’re being defensive for no reason. He’s a
thug, this is not going to be the only time you
go to jail, it’s just a beginning,” she says.
“Here’s the thing Sethabile, I wanted to
drink, I got my glass bottom up and sucked
lemons. I had fun, I was free, I was happy. It
was unfortunate that we ended up at the
wrong side of the law and it wasn’t his fault.”
“Wow!”
Wow at them too.
“I’m not going to break up with him,” I tell
them.
“Even if we tell mom?” – Thando.
“You can tell her, I don’t care, I’m old enough
to make my own mistakes and learn from
them. Do you want wine?”
“I’m going to the hospital,” she says
gathering her purse and standing up.
I look at Setha, she shakes her head.
“I just got back from work.”
“Suit yourselves darlings!” I say.
They’re angry. Soon they’ll be fine.
^
^
^

THANDO

I’m not angry, I’m scared. I’m scared for my

sister because I don’t know what shit is next,
what is he going to put her through the next
time. I’ve never been a sister who hates on
her younger sister’s boyfriends but this one, I
want him gone before I lose my sister. They
could’ve been involved in a car accident and
died.
Getting to the hospital and finding out that
Zibulo has discharged himself just adds to
my frustrations. Money is not a problem, he
can stay a month here while the doctors try
to figure out what’s wrong with him.
But he’s already signed the papers, he’s now
waiting for the medicine prescribed by the
doctor and he’s leaving. He wasn’t going to
inform me, I’m just a cartoon in his life.
I don’t know why I’m still standing here, he
doesn’t need me.
“Thando,” he calls my name.
I look at him, I’m at the door.
“Mercy asked for a few days off, without me
and her at work it’s going to be a mess.
She’s sick, I don’t know what’s wrong but
she’s not in Durban at the moment. I had to
ask for an immediate discharge letter.”
“Zibulo let’s not pretend you cannot snap
your fingers and get a temporary assistant.
You just don’t want to get help.”
“How? I’ve lied on this bed for a week.”
“When were you going to tell me?”
“Once I get home, I’m sorry about that.”
I take a deep breath and collect myself.
“How were you getting home?”
“Someone is coming to pick me up.”
He planned this and he was only going to tell
me once he gets home.
“Okay, I will go home too,” I say.
He brushes his face and exhales softly.
“I’m not going to see you today?”
“Do you need to see me?”
“Of course baby, I miss waking up next to
you.”
My anger slowly subsides, I mumble a low
grunt.
“Fine, I will come Mr Secrets,” I say.
“I was going to tell you baby. I just knew how
you’d react if I told you while I’m here,” he
says.
“How was I going to react?”
“Like this,” he says.
I give him a look. I’m relaxed, not reacting
any way.
I leave first and drive to my place. I’m here
to pack my bags and go over his house for a
sleep-over. It’s almost like I’m cohabiting
now, even before he was hospitalized, I was
hardly in my place. I’ve slept a few nights
there this week while he was at the hospital.
I have missed him, I just hope we don’t get
another numb-legs episode because I don’t
know I’d do next. The hospital has failed, to
say without sounding disrespectful. They
cannot even say what’s wrong with him.

I get a call from my father saying he wants

us to come home next weekend. He
convinces me everyone is okay, we just need
to have a family meeting and discuss family
matters. I don’t know anything that might be
a crucial matter. To confirm I call my mother,
indeed she’s fine as well. My nerves settle a
bit, I text my sisters and pass the message.
^
^
^

I’m ready to utilize my best girlfriend skills

and cook a storm to welcome this hospital-
escapee back. But I find a white petite girl in
the kitchen with things laid out on the table
and about three pots cooking. She’s wearing
a white apron and hat that chefs wear. Okay,
he got a chef.
I greet the lady and walk past with my bags.
I go to the bedroom and leave my bags on
the bed. I don’t see where this man is, this is
a big house I have no inclination to search for
him, I call his phone. It rings somewhere in
the room, great!
I change into my flat sandals and walk out.
“Baby?” His voice calls from his study.
I walk back and push the door open.
He’s on his laptop, working.
“That’s why you wanted to come back?”
He smiles, “You’ll never forgive me for this.”
“Your ugly legs better not get numb again
because I’ll be on your neck.”
“Kissing my neck?”
“More like strangling it.”
He moves everything to the side, he wants
me to sit on the desk.
“Are you not busy?” I ask climbing on to sit.
“Money is not everything, I can do this in the
morning.”
“Money is everything, trust me,” I say.
“No, it’s not,” he argues.
Only when people get monied they start
using lines like that, money is everything for
me, I’d have zero problems if I had money.
“So you hired a professional chef to come
and cook dinner?” My African womanhood is
bruised.
I should be in that kitchen, I’m also a good
cook.
“Ah, please don’t tell me you’re offended,”
he looks at me deeply in the eyes.
I give him a cold shrug.
“You’re tired, this week has been the worse
for both of us,” he says.
“You could’ve talked to me about it first. But
it’s your house, your money. I’m just happy
to be squeezed in,” I say.
He exhales softly and asks, “How’s
business?”
“I don’t get business every week. There’s
someone who asked for my quotations for a
wedding two days ago, I don’t know if she’d
pursue me or not.”
“Do you need money?” he asks.
“Yes, I do,” I say.
He chuckles, “Okay, I’ll send you some.”
“Thank you,” I lower my face to his and
capture his lips in a long passionate kiss.
His hands slide up to my skirt and massage
my thighs.
The kiss get deeper, I’m connected to this
man like I’m connected to the core of my
soul. He pulls back, our eyes lock in a stare,
then we kiss again.
He moves back the chair, I get off the desk
and sit on him. My skirt is up on my waist, his
hands are all over my butt, there’s a baby
arm poking my thighs.
“I missed you baby,” he says unbuttoning his
shirt.
I take my vest off and leave only the bra.
He pulls it down and grabs my boobs.
“Why are they getting bigger?”
“Really?” If that was the case my God would
be good’o. I like big boobs.
“Yes, they’re bigger. What else grew in my
absence?”
“I don’t know,” I say with a giggle.
“Let me see,” he says.
I stand and turn around with my skirt up and
boobs out of my bra.
“Your ass is still small,” he say.
“Whaaat?” I turn with my eyes widen. I don’t
have a small ass.
He’s laughing. “Well, I can’t see clearly.
Maybe if you can shake it a bit.”
“You want me to twerk?”
“Yes,” he says.
Gosh, what’s wrong with him? I turn around
and hold onto the desk and twerk for him.
I’m half way with my twerking, then I feel
him standing closely behind me.
“Continue,” he says.
I stop and look at him nervously.
“You are not going to fuck me dry, right?”
“What’s wrong with that? You always fuck
me when I least expect.”
“So you want revenge?”
He laughs and turns me around. He lifts me
and puts me on the desk and stands between
my legs. We kiss again, I hold his neck and
kiss him for all the days I couldn’t kiss him. I
want to welcome him back home properly
but we still have a white chef in the kitchen.
So this is going to be a warm-up sex for the
actual sex that’s going to happen later.
^
^
^
Dinner is good, I take nothing away from the
chef. I don’t usually have someone cooking
for me, I cook for people. It’s a good treat,
the dinner is set up romantically. I got
flowers and a little gift bag I haven’t opened
yet. He’s appreciating me for being there for
him during this time more than he’s
celebrating being back home.
“Have you talked to Mabhungu?” I ask.
“Yeah, we talked, seemingly he’s been very
worried about Mercy.”
“About Mercy? Oh lord, I hope there’s
nothing between them.”
“Why do you say that?” he asks.
“I kinda fell like she has a crush on him. You
know how men are when they know a girl
has a crush on them,” I say.
“That would be weird because Mercy is my
employee and he’s a married man.” Only if
he knew that they already smashed.
“Married men cheat all the time,” I say.
“But Mercy isn’t that type. I know she looks
like a slayqueen of some sort but she’s a
genuine person, she wouldn’t wreck
someone’s marriage.”
“If you say so,” I pick my drink and sip.
“Let me take these to the kitchen,” I stand
and gather the plates.
“We can just leave it here, someone will
clean up in the morning.”
“Maybe one day I’ll get used to the rich life,
for now let me clean up.”
He doesn’t argue, I clear the table and leave
the dishes inside the sink.
When I walk back to the lounge to get the
bowls he’s balancing by the table and trying
to stand up. It doesn’t look like he’s winning.
My heart starts beating fast. Not again!
I rush over and help him sit on the chair.
“Is it the legs again?”
“I cannot walk,” I cannot miss the fear in his
voice.
I need to take a deep breath and be a
stronger one here.
“Can I call the ambulance?”
“They cannot help me, I was there for a
week.”
He’s right, it’s been fruitless. They ran
several blood tests and still found nothing.
“What do I do now?” I’m hopeless, I don’t
where to turn, who to ask for help. How can I
sit here and not help him?
“Can I call your brother?”
“No,” he says.
“Then what do I do Zibulo?”
He doesn’t answer. He’s tying my hands as
well, I cannot call people and ask for help if
he’s not going to cooperate. We sit in silence
for almost ten minutes, I hear him dragging
in a deep breath, then he attempts to stand
again. He stands and takes a few steps,
seemingly he’s able to walk again. He takes
a few more steps in circles and looks at me
with a relieved face.
“Let’s go to bed,” he says.
I stand and follow him. He’s walking, he’s
fine, for now.
I don’t know when his legs are going to stop
and never work again. I feel like there’s more
to come and he’s not even bothered to find
out the root of this.
He sits on the bed and takes his shoes off. He
still doesn’t allow his feet to touch the floor.
Maybe I undermined the baggage that comes
with him. Not that I mind, but his
stubbornness makes everything difficult.
“Are you going to try other alternatives?” I
ask.
He doesn’t answer. I take my clothes off and
get in bed.
^
^
^
I wake up with a sour mouth. What did I eat?
I can’t even breathe properly. I quietly slide
off bed and go to the bathroom to brush my
teeth. My stomach turns, I feel something
rising to my throat and rush to the toilet
seat. I’m throwing up, what is going on in
Durban? Everyone is vomiting. Well, not
everyone, me and Mercy. I have to ask
myself the same question I asked her; am I
pregnant? It can’t be, I think there’s an
allergy doing rounds in the air.
When I walk back to the bedroom he’s up.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’m throwing up, I don’t know what’s
wrong.”
“Everyone is throwing up when they’re next
to me. First it was Mercy at the hospital now
you,” he says.
“You think you’re the one upsetting our
stomachs?”
“Maybe,” he shrugs.
I get in bed, he pulls me closer and puts his
arms around me.
“I need someone to stand in for Mercy,” he
says tapping his fingers on my arm.
“She hasn’t told you when she’s coming
back?”
“No,” he heaves a heavy sigh.
“Maybe I can help if you tell me what to do.”
“Really baby?”
“Yeah, I don’t have business this week.”
“Okay, what is your fee?”
“I don’t know, whatever assistants get.”
“Know your worth and tell me your daily
fee.”
“I don’t know, I only know cooking fees.”
He chuckles, “Okay, I will have Siyabonga
contacting you.”
“Okay, boss.”
He pulls my face up and pecks my lips. Our
eyes lock for a minute, I can see the sadness
behind the mask he’s wearing. I lie on his
chest and release a deep breath.
Maybe he was right, money is not
everything. He has all the money in the
world, he can pay doctors to treat whatever
it is that’s attacking his feet, but money
cannot buy him a diagnosis. Money has failed
to help him at this point.
“Have you ever thought of confronting your
past?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like going back home, your grandmother’s
house. I mean, your grandfather left you a
fortune, you can visit his grave once and
show him gratitude.”
“I never had a relationship with those people,
they hated me from birth. Why do I have to
pretend now because they’re dead?”
“So you’re just going to live here and
pretend like you did not come from
anywhere?” I ask.
“Are you bored Thando?”
“I’m not bored, I’m worried. When you love
someone you worry about him. It’s me who
watches helplessly when you get sick. It
doesn’t just affect you. I don’t think you’re
putting yourself in my shoes.”
“What do you want me to do?” He’s not
losing his calm but I can hear anger in that
tone.
“Go to church, listen to your brother’s
advice, he’s been trying to be there for you.
It’s not his fault that your father was a jerk,
he was a child too. Why are you punishing
everyone?”
“I love your voice but sometimes you need to
shut up. Don’t even start defending my
father while you grew up with both parents
getting everything you want and all the love.
Don’t give me advice, I don’t ask for it.”
Take a deep breath Thando, don’t allow this
to spoil your morning.
I get off bed and pick my pyjamas on the
floor. I need to take a bath and go to my
place. He can look for another assistant.

CHAPTER 28
MERCY

Running away from Durban wasn’t going to

help. Days are turning into weeks and soon
she will be going back for another
ultrasound, they’ll try to locate other fetuses.
She couldn’t go on with the abortion, three
heartbeats are a lot to terminate. But the
question still remains, what is the future of
these three heartbeats? Can she raise three
kids without a father? Maybe it’s a
conversation she needs to have with
Mabhungu. She doesn’t even know how she
will start because he told her from day one
that he was married.
He hasn’t called after she sent that text,
which furtherly confirms how less significant
she is in his life. She’s been at her sister’s
place in Richard’s Bay for almost a week
now. This is where she comes whenever life
throws her in the flames. Her sister knows,
whenever she comes here it’s because shit
happened and she’s not brave enough to
face it. She’s always been the weakest one
with a brave face.
She’s in the bathroom, throwing up again.
Nomuzi walks in with a glass of water.
“Drink here,” she gives her the glass.
Mercy takes the glass and slides down to the
floor and sits. It’s 9am and she’s still in her
pyjamas, eyebrows aren’t drawn, her weave
was shoved in a drawer, she walks around in
cornrows. Anyone who knows Mercy can tell
that stress has grabbed her by tits.
“So you are pregnant?”- Nomuzi.
“Yeah,” she responds with a low sigh.
“Are you and the father together?”
“No,”
Nomuzi cannot judge, she’s in the process of
divorce because men are shit.
“Does he know?” she asks.
Mercy shakes her head.
Now she’s going to judge.
“Do you know who the father is?”
“Wow Nomuzi, I know who I slept with.”
“Why haven’t you told him?”
“Because…he’s married.”
Gasp!
“Whaaat?”
“Yeah, so now you understand. I cannot tell
him, I thought I’d terminate it but then,” she
heaves a deep sigh and throws her hands up.
.
“Then what?” Nomuzi frowns.
“I went to see a gynecologist and we did a
pelvic ultrasound. One fetus was located,
there were two more heartbeats whose
fetuses are yet to be located. It’s a multifetal
pregnancy, I cannot be a killer of triplets,
that would make me a serial-killer,” she says.
“Triplets?” It’s the same reaction she had.
“Yeah, I feel like this is a punishment rather
than a blessing. I have slept with several
men before him. Maybe God is punishing me
for making a married man cheat, a village
king for that matter.”
Nomuzi’s face might never return to its
normal shape after this frown.
“A village king? What were you thinking?
How did you even meet that person?”
“He’s Mlaba’s brother,” she says.
Nomuzi claps her hands and walks away.

Mercy drags herself out of the bathroom and

climbs on the bed with her phone. With each
day that passes the fetuses grow, sooner
than later she has to make a plan and know
what is a way forward.
She sends a text first; that’s what you do
when you’re dealing with a married man.
Mabhungu texts back after a minute saying
she can call. The wife must be at work.
For a few minutes she’s exercising her
breaths with her finger on the call button.
Then she takes a huge breath and calls.
He picks up after two rings like he was
waiting on the phone the whole time.
“MaMchunu,” he says.
Breathe…
“Bayede!”
“Are you okay?”
She takes another deep breath, “Yeah.”
“It doesn’t sound like it.”
“We need to talk,” she says.
“We are talking MaMchunu, aren’t we?”
“No, I need to see you as soon as possible.”
“I don’t know when I will come back to
Durban. I have a lot of responsibilities, my
schedule is busy this side,” he says.
“I don’t have time, it’s urgent.”
There’s a deep sigh…
“Is this how we do things now?” He sounds
like a married man who’s done enjoying a
side pussy. .
“It’s not about us,” Mercy says.
“There’s an ‘us’?” Married man, fully
activated!
“I’m pregnant Bayede,” she just puts it out
like that.
“You are what?” In her whole life she’s never
heard that question in such a stern tone.
She swallows back hard and says, “I cannot
have an abortion, they said I have more than
one fetus.”
“Mercy are you out of your mind?” This is the
first time he’s ever addressed her by her
birth name. It sounds hateful and offensive.
“That’s what the doctor told me, I don’t know
what to do.”
“I don’t have children with my wife because I
don’t want to have children. I don’t want to
be a father, I’ve never wanted to. I cannot do
this.” The line dies.
Tears won’t help but right now they bring
temporary relief from pain.
She expected him to be angry but to find out
he’s never wanted to have children hurts to
the core. Because there’s no way he’s going
to be a father to her children whereas he’s
never dreamed of becoming a father even
after getting married to his wife.
^
^
^
MABHUNGU

He’s sweating. He knew nothing stays in the

dark forever but this is the worst
punishment. So all those dreams were about
him? That snake came in front of his car
because it’s him who’s going to have a baby.
No, babies. Why would God bless him with
that out of everything he prayed for? Why
babies and not wealth? He doesn’t want
babies, what surname are they going to
carry? He’s not a Dunga, his mother never
told him his real surname. He’s a man with
no true identity, whatever he begets will
carry this surname that Dunga borrowed
him.
Another thing, his wife tied her tubes to
qualify for this marriage. She made that huge
sacrifice, because it wasn’t always her dream
not to become a mother. How does he then
tell her that he made her tie her tubes and
went to make babies elsewhere?

She’s back from work, she’s walking in with

two shopping bags and a smile on her face.
The pots are empty, dishes are piled up in a
basin, he’s been glued on the couch the
whole day thinking about the mess he’s put
himself in.
“Dunga are you okay?” MaMzotho asks with
a bit of panic.
He cannot even look at her in the eyes.
“I’m okay mkami, how was work?”
“It was good,” she puts the shopping bags on
the table and comes to hug her husband.
“You look stressed. What happened?”
“The council meeting didn’t go well,” he lies.
“Oh, what went wrong?”
“Just disagreements about the Zuma and
Mthiyane land.” It’s an existing issue in the
village, there are two clans who haven’t been
getting along, Mabhungu and other village
elders keep making an intervention to
prevent a civil war from breaking.
“I will call for another meeting with both
family representatives,” he says.
MaMzotho nods and looks around at the
mess that awaits her. “Let me change and
start cooking,” she says.
“We can eat bread and sleep.”
“What? No husband of mine will eat bread for
dinner.” She walks away taking her jacket
off. She takes care of him, in every way
possible. She’s exactly what he wanted
growing up; a wife who will stand by his side
and love him unconditionally. But two trips to
Durban have ruined that. Him taking the first
step and looking for his brother has put his
marriage at risk. Looking at this with a sound
mind he knows there are slim chances of
being forgiven. If it was him in her shoes he
wouldn’t have forgiven too. This is betrayal
at its worst.
He follows her in the bedroom and stands by
the door and watches her changing into a
dress and putting an apron over.
“Nolundi, I want us to talk,” he says.
She turns her head with a slight frown.
“Now?” she asks.
“Yes, now.” He walks in and lowers himself to
the bed with his hands sweating.
MaMzotho ties her head with a scarf and then
sits.
“What’s going on?”
“We are still young,” he says.
She nods, still frowning.
“It’s not too late for us to change some of the
decisions we made before getting into this
marriage.” He takes a deep breath and lifts
his eyes to her, “Can they untie your tubes?”
“Huh?” She’s shocked.
He clears his throat, “Would you want to go
back to that particular decision and change
it?”
“You want to have babies?” She’s shocked
more than anything. She tied her tubes
because of him, her love for him was greater
than the love of having babies, she chose
him.
He nods, there’s fear in his eyes.
“You want to have babies to which
surname?”
The truth of the matter is, he doesn’t want
babies.
“I will change back to my mother’s
surname,” he says.
“You can’t be a Dunga king with a Buthelezi
surname.”
He takes a deep sigh, “I know, I can’t.”
“So you will abandon your people?”
“It’s Zibulo’s people, I have hold the reigns
for him. I’m not going to lose my marriage
over a throne,” he says.
Confusion dwells on MaMzotho’s face.
“What makes you say that? We don’t need to
have babies, remember we have a whole
village to be mother and father to,” she says.
He shakes his head, “No, I’ve thought about
it. Can they reverse the process at the
clinic?”
“Yeah, they can,” she nods.
“Are you willing to do it?”
“There’s so much to lose Dunga.”
“I don’t care Nolundi, as long as I don’t lose
you.”
“Okay, I will think about it. Can I go cook
now?”
He stands up, “I will help you.”
She smiles, he’s a great husband through
and through. But it makes her wonder about
the sudden change of mind. She has no
problem with his request but now it starts to
feel like this marriage dances to whichever
tune he sings. If he doesn’t want babies,
nobody is allowed to have babies. Now he
wants them and she should run to the clinic
and untie her tubes. She loves submitting to
him, not feeling like his toy.
^
^
^
MERCY
Crying is all she’s been doing for the last two
days. Nomuzi has offered to go with him to
her next ultrasound scan and suggested that
she gets counseling as well. No amount of
counseling session will make her make peace
and be happy that she’s pregnant for a man
who hates babies. She’s come to realize that
she fell attracted to the physical appearance
and outer persona, she has no idea who this
Mabhungu man is. Why does he hates
babies? He just said he cannot do this and
that was the last time she heard from him. At
times she wants to call his phone and ask
questions, but she’s never been a desperate
whore.
Nomuzi yells from the kitchen, “Phone!”
She gets out of bed, she’s always sleeping.
“It’s Mlaba,” Nomuzi says meeting her at the
passage with a ringing phone.
She takes it and answers going back to bed.
“Hello,”
“Mercy when are you coming back to work?”
“Next week,” she says.
“No, I need you here tomorrow. Things are
falling apart, I cannot hire someone else,
Thando abandoned me.” He’s always been
scared to let people in his space.
Mercy exhales heavily, “Can I call Thando
and talk to her?”
“And say what? She hasn’t been talking to
me, what makes you think she will want to
come and work for me?”
“Let me talk to her, she’s my friend.”
“Oh, let me wait for you to talk to your
friend. If she says no, tomorrow I need you to
report at work,” he says.
“Okay,” she sighs.
The last thing she needs right now is work
stress over this one she’s battling with.

She calls Thando, who takes her sweet time

before answering.
“Mercy what do you want?” That’s a sweet
response.
“I was talking to your boyfriend and he’s
telling me he’s without an assistant and
you’re not helping him,” Mercy says.
“I don’t work with stubborn people, come
back to your job. Where are you anyway?”
“I’m in Bay, I’m sick.”
“Which hospital in Bay?”
How annoying!
“Thando just go and help him out, I’ll be back
next week. You know he gets uncomfortable
with strangers, you want him to hire a
stranger.”
“I really don’t care Mercy, he knows what he
did for me to hate him. I also tested positive,
I’m not in the mood.”
“You’re HIV positive?” – Mercy.
“Pregnant, the pill didn’t work, I don’t know
what he’s going to say when he finds out. I
don’t think he wanted to have a baby now.”
“At least he’s not married,” Mercy says.
“What do you mean?” Thando asks.
“Never mind, I have to start packing, I hope
you never need help from me because I hate
you for this,” she says and drops the call.
CHAPTER 29
THANDO ZWANE

I haven’t talked to Zibulo in a week. I ignored

his calls and messages and spent less time in
my place, just in case he chose to drive by.
Yesterday I finally took the pregnancy test
after experiencing pregnancy symptoms
consistently for a week and it came out
positive. I’m not happy in my relationship,
not because there’s no love, he loves me but
he’s too stubborn. I hate being in a
relationship where I feel like my voice is not
heard, where I cannot give advice because
I’m not an orphan. But I have to tell him that
I’m pregnant, I don’t expect a good reaction.
I put on my tracksuit pant and sweater and
sneakers and drive to Kloof. He’s back from
work, it’s close to 7pm.
Business is not doing well, mom needs
money, she wants to build her mother’s
house so that Setha can have umemulo and
perform other ceremonies for her late
mother. That’s what the family meeting was
about. So I need money, I don’t want to
touch my savings, but I’d rather sell fruits
than to work for Zibulo.
I call him outside the gate and tell him to
open. I hate that I’m back here without being
fetched, circumstances brought me back
without him begging.
But I’m not sleeping over, I’m telling him
about the pregnancy and going back home. I
still need to disappoint my parents and get
judged by my sisters.
He opens the door with a smile,
“Sthandwa sami solahleko.”
I walk in, not smiling.
“You haven’t been taking my calls,” he’s
walking behind me.
“Really?”
“I apologized Thando, I get frustrated when
someone talk about that man.”
He thinks my problem with him is only that?
“So you talk to me anyhow when you’re
frustrated?” I ask.
“I’m sorry,” he says with a faint grin.
“Well, I have news for you.”
“Okay,”
I fold my arms, “I’ve been throwing up a lot
and getting sick in the mornings. Yesterday I
took a test and I’m pregnant.”
His smile disappears, he’s giving me a stern
look. I embraced myself for this reaction, I’m
not going to sweat about it.
“What about the pill that you took?” he asks.
“Clearly it didn’t work, I’m sorry.”
He releases a deep breath and goes to the
kitchen. He comes back with a glass of
alcohol and sits with his jaws clenched.
“You think I’m trying to trap you with a
baby?”
He looks at me, he still looks annoyed.
“Did I say that?”
“No, but it looks that way.”
“I don’t think that, I’m just thinking why I
didn’t use a condom.”
That hurts a little bit, but I thought about it
too.
He drinks everything in his glass and stands
up.
“Come,” he pulls me up and opens his arms.
He hugs me. I didn’t expect it.
“We will figure it out,” he says.
“I know you are not ready, I’m really sorry I
wasn’t careful and most of the times I threw
myself to you.” I do feel bad and if I was him
I would’ve thought I was being trapped too.
“You didn’t throw yourself to me. You are
always comfortable around me and I
appreciate that. Don’t beat yourself about
this, a baby is not a curse, I’m going to be a
good father to him or her, and you, the
mother.”
Mother? That sounds scary.
“So Mabhungu was right, you’re pregnant
and it was dreamed of at the Dunga village
before we even knew it.”
“You’re royal,” I say.
He clicks his tongue, “I don’t fuck with that. I
fuck with you.”
His hands drop to my butt, he lowers his face
and captures my lips in a steamy kiss. Then
he touches my boobs and looks at me
affectionately.
“Do they even know that you’re dating at
home?”
“No, it will be a surprise disappointment.”
He chuckles, “I’m going to step up, don’t
worry.”
I don’t know what that means, what I know is
that I’m sleeping over. I love my boyfriend,
nothing is going to get in between us, not
even his hard head.
^
^
^
NTOKO ZWANE

We are in the Arizona guest house, Zamani is

meeting up with another prominent
Ladysmith businessman man who has
property all over Durban. He tagged me
along because I haven’t rested this week and
my sisters have been stressing me. I just
needed a break from everything and some
privacy with my man.
He walks in wearing a frown, his eyes are on
the phone in his hand.
“I just got a message from Thando,” he says.
“Okay, what is she saying?” I’m sure it’s not
something good.
“You’re not answering your phone, what
have I done to you?”
I roll my eyes, “It’s charging, she’s
dramatic.”
“Maybe you should call her back before she
sends the police here.”
Well, I wouldn’t put it past Thando.
I use his phone to call her, she answers after
a few rings.
“Hey, I’m fine, why are you harassing
Zamani?”
“Thank God, why aren’t you answering your
phone? What do you want me think? I need
to see you, when are you coming back?”
“Tomorrow evening, what’s the tea?” I ask.
“You’ll sip it once you’re done riding his
dick.”
I laugh, she doesn’t like Zamani, funnily
they’ve never set down and talked. They only
met that one time when she came to rescue
me with the police.
“Okay, bye,” I drop the call.
He takes his phone and slides it inside his
pocket. I know him when he’s sad, I’ve told
him not to pay attention to my family, they’ll
come around.
“When are you going to sit down with them?”
I ask.
He gives me a flat look, he’s not interested.
“I know Thando is a hater, but if she gets to
know you she will see the good side that I
see in you,” I tell him.
“I don’t know sweerie, it’s hard to prove
yourself to someone who’s already made a
decision not to like you.” He’s right, but I
know Thando can change her mind, it’s just
that we haven’t have to deal with each
other’s boyfriends before. He’s here longer
than they thought and he’s not what anyone
wanted for me.
“Woza la,” I say with dominance.
His eyebrows crease, then he smiles and
steps closer.
I wrap my arms around his shoulders and
jump onto his waist.
“How do you want me to get you ready for
your meeting?”
He smiles, “By giving me some ass.”
“I hate that you say that, but you’re
ungovernable anyway.” I capture his lips in a
kiss, passionately and deeply. He throws me
down on the bed and takes the upper
position smooching my lips
My body is getting warm, between my legs
it’s moist. His shaft wastes no time poking
out of his pants, he pulls back and takes his
shirt off.
“Let’s get naked, kudlale ushafu,” he says
with a wide grin.
I get up and strip my clothes off, leaving no
piece of cloth, only the earrings and my new
watch. He’s butt-naked too, he lifts me up
and kisses me while his boner grows against
my navel.
“This is our first time being away together,”
he says dropping me on the bed on my back.
“Yeah, it is.”
“Umuhle, futhi ngiyakuthanda.”
I’m blushing. He kisses my forehead and
brushes my lip with his thumb.
“I want to record this moment for us,” he
says.
I laugh, I’m not sure about recording.
“Even when you’re not with me I can just
look back at this and be warm.”
“A sex tape, you mean?” I ask.
“No, love-making memory installation.”
“Okay, Mr Fancy. How tight is your phone
security?”
“Don’t worry, I have things worse than love-
making memory installation, things that
could end my life, so you don’t have to
worry.” He chuckles and looks at me with
squinted eyes, “I love you, I’d never hurt you
or do anything to embarrass you.”
“I know baby, I trust you.”
We kiss again.
He gets his phone, I set up a stand where it
can be positioned opposite the bed. I have
never thought I’d do this, it’s risky but what
do I have to lose? I’m no longer scared, he’s
crazy but I know he’d go through miles for
me.
I lied in bed with my legs up, he presses the
record button and comes back. I’m trying not
to be camera conscious but my eyes keep
going there as he sticks his finger in my
cookie and kissing me like his life depends on
it.
“I love you, okay?” He assures me before
turning me around and brushing my clit from
behind.
He pushes in, I let out a moan and press my
chest down and push my ass up. I hear him
gulp behind me.
“Oh yes, baby!” He thrusts in and out with
his hands grabbing my buttocks.
Sex is always great with him. He knows how
to hit it the way I want, our connection is
great too.
“Can I cum inside baby?”
“No, on my boobs,” I say.
He’s breathing heavily, pounding me
mercilessly.
Then he stands with his hands on his head.
I reverse and twerk on him.
“Ah, dlala sweerie!” he spanks my butt.
I’m not a professional, two minutes later I’m
tired.
He holds my hands and links them together
behind and then pounds on me like a crazy
man. I’m screaming his name and confessing
my love for him a million times.
Then he pulls out and comes in front of me.
He wants me to suck it.
It doesn’t take long before he pulls out of my
mouth and spills on my boobs.
He’s sweating, he leans over and kisses me
hastily before lying down.
“Sit on my face,” he instructs.
I’m dripping wet, my clit is still hard. I sit and
rub myself all over his face, he’s sticking his
tongue into my opening and sucking my clit.
I explode all over his face and tremble.

He moves to the side and wipes his face and

comes back with my G-string. He sticks his
fingers inside me and rubs me. I haven’t
recovered from my first orgasm but he’s
already working on getting my clit throbbing
again.
“Kneel baby,” he says in a husky voice.
I sit up and kneel, he separate my legs and
fingers me directly to the camera.
I’m crying like a rained puppy.
“Sweerie,”
I gasp at him inserting the second finger.
“Ngeke ngidlale ngawe, uyezwa?”
“Yeah baby,” I’m not sure what he said, his
fingers are in too deep.
He takes them out and holds my G-string,
stretches it and slides it parallel to my
coochie. He moves it sideways, there’s
mixture of pain and pleasure. Clit can be
sensitive, he’s pulling it sideways with a
stretched lace.
“Must I stop?” he asks.
“No,” I don’t know why I want this because
my clit is on fire, in as much as my body
craves for another orgasm.
“Free your clit baby, chama,” he says.
I shut my eyes, he puts more pressure on the
stretched G-string.
I let out a shrill cry, he stops and goes to the
phone. He takes it and comes back, still
recording. He’s hard again, he gives me the
phone to record him getting his face between
my legs.
His tongue soothes my burning clit, I start
moaning in pleasure again.
CHAPTER 30
MABHUNGU

MaMzotho arrives home, she left work early

and went to the clinic to find out what is the
process of tubal ligation reversal. It can be
done but she won’t fall pregnant
immediately, they gave her a time-frame of
one to two years, depending on their fertility.
Things are no longer the same in the house.
Mabhungu is no longer the husband she
knew but she always dismisses as him being
stressed by two clans who are still fighting
over the land. Now it has escalated to
witchcraft accusations.
He’s lost a few kilos within the last few days.
Today he cooked, it’s been some time since
she last came home to fill pots and clean
kitchen. She didn’t say anything because
she’s a wife here, not him, when he cooks it’s
just a favor.
She goes to the bedroom to change and
comes back. He’s watching TV. No, the TV is
watching him, he’s just sitting there like he’s
lost his mind.
“Have you eaten?” MaMzotho asks.
“No, I was waiting for you,” he says.
She smiles and goes to the kitchen to dish
up. He made chicken stew and rice, he
doesn’t even like rice, he cooked it for her.
MaMzotho prepares two cups of tea and
returns back to the lounge with their food on
the tray.
“How did it go at the clinic?” he asks.
“Everything went well, they said they can
reverse the process.”
He exhales in relief, “How soon?”
“I will go Monday,” she says.
“Thank you mkami. I think you should quit
work sooner so that our business can be up
and running by the time the baby comes.”
She coughs and puts down her cup.
“There’s more,” she says.
He looks at her, confused.
“They said it might take me a year or two to
conceive.”
He dumps his plate on the tray, enraged.
“I don’t have a year Nolundi,” he snaps.
She’s confused. Is there something she
doesn’t know? This baby is being demanded,
not asked.
“You don’t have a year?” she asks.
He brushes his face and exhales.
“I just want us to have our own baby,” he
says.
“We will, what’s the rush?”
“There’s no rush mkami, I’m sorry I
snapped.”
She gives him a look and picks her cup and
sips.
^
^
^
He helps her wash the dishes and goes to
bed with her. They don’t do anything, he just
cuddles her until she drifts to sleep and
snores softly in his arms. Then he quietly
pushes her to the side and gets out of bed
with his phone.
He hasn’t talked to Mercy since that day she
told him she’s pregnant. She doesn’t know
how much stress she’s put him through. His
marriage is about to fall apart, all because of
her. A part of him feels like she knew exactly
what she wanted, it wasn’t just lust, she
wanted to break him.
He stands in the dark outside and calls her
phone. It rings a couple of times before she
answers in a sleepy voice.
“It’s me, we need to talk,” he says.
“Okay,” she sounds hopeful, her voice comes
alive.
“You destroyed my life Mercy. Everything I
built with my wife, you destroyed it. You
imposed your own dreams of being fucked by
a married man and bearing kids for him on
me, without asking me how I felt about it.”
“Bayede…”
“No, don’t call me that. You wanted this, I
don’t know what you think you’re going to
get out of it.”
“I did not sleep with you by force, you invited
me to your BnB and helped me take my
clothes off,” she’s bruised.
“No man will ever say no to free pussy. You
flaunted it on my face, if I knew you’re this
kind of person I wouldn’t have been kind to
you. Impene yakho ibhidliza umshado wami,”
he says.
She starts crying. “No, I didn’t want this. I
was ready to abort but I can’t do it if there’s
more than one fetus.”
“You can cry all you want but nothing is
going to make look at you with respect, ever
again. I don’t know what I’m going to say to
my wife, just know that you destroyed
someone’s marriage and live with it.” He
drops the call, his heart is beating fast. He
was never the cheating type, even as a teen
he never slept around, he only had one
girlfriend until his early twenties.

He stands in the cold, leaning by the kraal

and shaking like a leaf. His phone vibrates in
the pocket, he ignores it. It rings again, he
takes it out with frozen hands and answers.
“Hello,” his voice is shaky.
“This is Zibulo, I’m calling you with Thando’s
phone. Are you okay?”
This is the first time he’s ever received a call
from his brother.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” his voice argues what he’s
saying. It’s shaking and breaking, he keeps
fighting back tears, because why would he
be the one crying?
“I just wanted to let you know that you were
right, I am having a baby.”
“Oh,” he says.
“Alright, cool.”
“Sharp,” Mabhungu says.
Zibulo drops the call, there’s nothing further
to discuss, energy doesn’t lie.
^
^
^
MaMzotho opened her eyes in a dark room,
there was no one next to her, she turned the
lights on and sat up. She’s been sitting for
the last twenty minutes, clearly there’s
something wrong. It’s bigger than her, this
man is going through something.
Finally, she hears the door open.
Footsteps stop outside the bedroom door, he
can see that the lights are on.
MaMzotho walks to the door and opens it.
He’s standing half-naked, it’s freezing cold
outside.
She pulls him to bed and gets an extra
blanket and lays it over him. She doesn’t ask
what’s wrong, because if he was ready to let
her know he would’ve done so by now. She
wraps her arms around his cold body and
kisses his cheek.
“Sleep Dunga.”
He looks at her, he’s scared. Without her he’s
nothing.

MaMzotho wakes up earlier than usual and

cooks porridge. She’s making mahewu,
they’ll help him gain back his weight. People
will assume she’s not taking care of her
husband if he suddenly gets skinny.
By the time Mabhungu wakes up she’s
already set up his breakfast. She brings his
porridge to the bedroom and sits, looking at
him with worry.
“Are you not going to be late for work?” he
asks.
“No, I still have time,” she says.
He takes a deep breath and looks at her with
gratitude.
“Ngiyabonga,”
“Baba what is happening? Last night you left
the bedroom and came back shivering.
Where were you?”
“I was on the call outside,” he says.
“Was it bad news?” – MaMzotho.
“No, Zibulo is having a baby.”
Now it makes sense, not so much of it but
she’s getting a clue as to why he wants to
have a baby out of nowhere. It could be that
he’s feeling the pressure of having his young
brother having a baby while he doesn’t. He’s
never been a man that envy others, but
people change.
^
^
^
MERCY

Nomuzi drove to Durban early in the morning

after she received a call from her sister
wailing in the middle of the night. She knew
it had something to do with the married man
she smashed and got pregnant.
When she gets to her flat Mercy is getting
ready for work. She didn’t expect it, she
thought she’d be lying in bed crying her eyes
out.
“I came as soon as I can, are you okay?” She
drops her bags on the floor and opens her
arms to hug her.
“I’m not okay,” Mercy says.
“Did something happen between you and
him?”
Mercy sits and grabs her phone. She
recorded the call, she plays the record to
Nomuzi. It’s nothing out of ordinary, just a
married man backing out when shit hits the
fan.
“It’s okay, if he doesn’t want to a part of it let
him be, there are many babies growing up
without their fathers, you’ll live,” Nomuzi
says.
“Like us, right?” – Mercy.
Nomuzi drops her eyes and sighs.
“I know things would’ve been different if I
had my father around. I didn’t want the circle
to continue with my kids,” Mercy says.
“But you’re not in love with him, you’re
scared of men Mercy. He’s a married man, I
know you went for him because you knew he
wouldn’t expect you to step up as a woman
in a relationship. You went for him because
you knew that you cannot get him. You just
forgot one thing, to have safe sex. And now
you want him to be responsible. It’s not
going to happen that way.”
“Is that wrong? This is a high-risk pregnancy,
I’m scared.”
“But he doesn’t want to have kids,”- Nomuzi.
“Do I want to have kids?” she poses back the
question.
Nomuzi sighs, “What’s a way forward?”
“I don’t know, I will let him be and focus on
having a healthy pregnancy.”
“Don’t you think it’s better if you move in
with me? Working and staying here alone will
cause you nothing but stress that you don’t
need right now.”
“Working will keep my mind busy,” she says.
Nomuzi decides to drive her to work, she’s
protective of her little sister, they only have
each other now. She can put everything
that’s happening in her life and focus on
taking care of her sister.
There was a three of them growing up, their
only brother died shortly after their mother.
A lot was going on in the family, their useless
father had left a piece of land behind and the
Mchunus wanted it from their mother
because after their father left she moved out
with her kids and was rumored to be having
a sexual relationship with another man. They
have come too far since 2014, her lobola was
taken by greedy uncles who never
contributed a cent towards the wedding. She
was happy to change her surname from
Mchunu to Ngobese, that was her
breakthrough. Mercy was out of college and
working, nothing was tying them back to
Engoje.
It was good for years, she was happily
married, then he started drinking, she
couldn’t stand him. He has nothing now, they
were married in the community of property,
he wants half of everything she has.
Mercy had her life in order, she just wasn’t
careful enough in her search for pleasure
without commitment. Sadly she didn’t get
temporary consequences, babies will always
remind her of that little mishap.
She parks outside the Mlabalaba Properties
offices and looks at Mercy who’s been staring
outside the window absent-mindedly.
“We are here,” she says.
Mercy turns her face, she’s crying again.

CHAPTER 31
THANDO

I’m driving Zibulo’s Range Rover going to

Ntoko’s house where we agreed to have
dinner. She’s coming from Ladysmith, I’m
sure she’s tired, fucking and dodging bullets
all night. I ordered food from an Italian
restaurant in town, she only needs to provide
the drinks.
Setha is outside as I drive in, she’s
screaming. Only if it was my car.
“Can I test-drive?” she asks.
“Test-drive? You’re funny. Come and help
me.”
She carries other foodie-bags and walks
behind me asking if Zibulo can lend her the
car to go to her Tinder date. Setha is that
one girl in the family who believes in being
rich, she says she’s building a legacy but she
spends her salary every month on clothes.
“Why am I the only not getting a rich man?
You’re driving a Range Rover, Ntoko has
Louis Vuitton boots and purse,” she says.
“She won those in a competition,” I tell her.
“No, Zamani surprised her with them.”
Wait, what? So it was him asking me Ntoko’s
sizes with a Russian accent. This guy is
unbelievable, in fact he’s creepy. I get the
plates, only Setha is helping me set the
table, Ntoko is on the phone laughing
nonstop.
“Can we have our sister?” I yell.
She turns and gives me a look. Then she
says something to him and drops the call.
I’m official a mean sister.
“That was mean,” she says taking a seat.
“What is mean is you telling us you cannot
come to my place, we must come to you,
only to talk to your boyfriend the whole
time.”
“I was on the phone for only 5 minutes,” she
says defensively.
“There’s a Range Rover outside,” Setha says.
“Does it belong to her stalker?” – Ntoko.
I roll my eyes and pour myself juice. Setha
said it’s a wine evening, her jail-bird sister is
obviously joining her. Wine is what you prefer
over juice if you’ve been to arrested for
being drunk.
“Why are we here? Did he propose?” Setha
asks.
“No, he did the worst,” I say.
She gasps, “He got you pregnant?”
“Yeah, I’m pregnant, you guys are aunts-to-
be.”
They’re stunned. Beside not being married,
I’m at the right age to start a family.
Ntoko looks at Setha, “Tell me what do you
prefer getting knocked up and having a gun
pointed at you?”
“Point a gun at me and kill me, just don’t get
me pregnant.”
Now there’s a gang-up.
“So you let a man nut inside you?” – Setha.
“Is there any other way of doing it?” I’m
almost done with my food and they’re not
even half way.
“So you’ve never heard of condoms? When
are you going to tell Mr and Mrs?” Ntoko
asks.
“I don’t know but I will tell them,” I say.
“When is he paying for the damages?”
“I don’t know Ntoko, I’m only 6 weeks
pregnant.”
“He’s monied, he can wake up and pay
tomorrow.”
“Things don’t work like that, he will pay when
he’s ready. Now moving on to you, what
were you doing in Ladysmith?”
She’s blushing. I want to ask about the Louis
Vuitton competition, this Zamani guy doesn’t
see me, why didn’t he ask his girlfriend the
sizes instead of bothering me?
“I was accompanying him to a meeting, he
wanted to spend time with me as well, away
from the mean girl association,” she says.
Wow, so we are an association now, that’s
what they call us when they’re polishing
guns.
“Was it nice being away from the mean girls
association?” I ask.
“Nice? I wanted to stay there with him and
never come back. We made a love-making
memory installation,” she says.
I frown and look at Setha, she looks clueless
as well.
“What is that?” I ask.
“A sex-tape,” she says.
Why am I pregnant? I need a strong drink.
What on earth?
“Did you hide your face?” Setha is still asking
the idiot sane questions.
“No,” she says.
“Whaaat?!”
I wash my hands with dettol and sunlight.
Just when I thought they had their last
scandal!
“Wow!” Setha claps her hands and picks her
glass and sips.
“Why do you trust him so much? What if you
break up and he leaks it?”
“We won’t break up,” she says.
Okay, my sister is a gone-girl, she’s in love
and there’s nothing we can say to make her
see beyond love.
^
^
^
Zibulo calls me in the morning asking me to
go out for breakfast with Mercy. He doesn’t
tell me why but he goes as far as transferring
R1500 to sponsor the breakfast.
Maybe there’s something I need to know,
Mercy and I haven’t been talking much but I
greet if I find her online on Whatsapp.
I’m still driving the Range Rover, so driving
around is not a problem. I drive to their
offices and pick a sour-looking Mercy. I know
it’s wrong to comment on people’s weight,
but damn she was eating wherever she was.
“Why are we going out for breakfast?” I ask.
She frowns, “You’re not taking me out?”
Why is Zibulo playing games with me?
“I am, I just didn’t think you’d agree,” I lie.
“No, I need to go out and breathe. Are we
going to McDonald’s?”
McDonald’s could actually save me a lot of
money.
“Yeah, let’s go and get burgers,” I say.
Now I feel like I know what’s going on; she’s
not okay and Zibulo wants me to find out
what’s going on.

When we climb out of the car she puts big

sunglasses on to hide the bags under her
eyes. She tells me to get her a BigMac and
something to drink. I place our orders and
pay and join her on the table.
“Are you okay babe?”
“No,” she says.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m pregnant,” she says.
I don’t know why I’m relieved, at least I’m
not alone on this journey.
“Is that what stressing you?” I ask.
“Yes, it’s a high-risk pregnancy and the
father doesn’t want to have children, he
wants nothing to do with them,” she says.
I frown, “Them?”
“Three heartbeats.”
Is it okay if I faint here?
“Three?” I need to be sure before I fall.
“Yeah, three,” she nods.
“Wow, what kind of sperm is that?”
She laughs, “Thando please, you don’t even
want to know who the sperm belongs to.”
Oh, I forgot to ask the big question.
“Who is the father?” I ask.
“Your brother-in-law.”
Wait, what?
Now I understand why she’s depressed.
“He’s married, he had his wife tie her tubes
because he doesn’t want to have kids,” I say.
“Yeah, I know now and it’s too late,” she says
with a low sigh.
Our food is here, I’m still in shock. I knew she
smashed him but to get pregnant for him
knowing very well that he’s married, I didn’t
see that one coming. I thought she was
clever.
^
^
^
I drop her off back at the office. Zibulo comes
out to get feedback. I’m not sure it’s my
place to tell him the real truth. I mean,
Mabhungu is his brother and he hasn’t said
anything, and Mercy is his long-time
favourite employee. If they wanted him to
know they would’ve told him by now.
But again, I’m in a difficult position, it will
look like I just chowed R1500 for nothing; I
failed to do the job.
He kisses my cheek and hugs me. His hand
rests on my tummy, which gives me
butterflies, he’s slowly getting in the ‘father’
mode.
“How was your breakfast?”
“It went well,” I say.
“Both of you enjoyed yourselves?”
“Yes, we had burgers,” I say.
“Did she tell you what’s bothering her these
days.”
I take a deep breath and glance around us.
There’s no one in sight, I hope these cars
parked here don’t have ears.
“Are you good at keeping secrets?” I ask.
He raises his eyebrows, “What is it?”
“Swear you’re not going to tell anyone and
you’re not going to ask either parts
involved,” I say.
“Alright, I swear I won’t.”
“She’s pregnant, it’s not just one baby, it’s
triplets.”
“All at once?”
I laugh, “Yes.”
“I’m fucked, she’s going to take a tripled
maternity leave.”
Gosh, he’s only worried about work.
“There’s more,” I say.
“Yeah, woza nazo.” Are we gossip partners
now?
“Your brother is the father,” I say.
“Mabhungu?” He’s not pleased anymore, I
can see the rage in his eyes.
“Yeah and as you know, he doesn’t want to
have babies,” I say.
“Oh, that’s why he couldn’t talk when I called
him telling him that you’re pregnant. I
thought I was disturbing him or something,
he’s in deep shit!”
“Call him, maybe he’s going to open up,” I
say.
He gives me a look, “We are not friends.”
“But he’s at his weakest right now, he needs
a shoulder to cry on.”
“Hhayi Thando, uthanda izindaba wena.” He
complains taking out his phone and scrolling
down on his contacts.
“Loudspeaker,” I say.
He gives me a judgmental look but put the
call on loudspeaker. God don’t let me cough
or make a sound.
He picks up in a sluggish voice,
“Zibulo,”
You can tell he’s going through the
consequences of ubufebe.
“I just want to find out if you’re okay, I wasn’t
at ease after our last call, you didn’t sound
okay.” My sexy liar.
“I’m okay, I’m just going through things,” –
Mabhungu.
“I know you and I are not friends or close, but
you can tell me if you need help.”
“You cannot help me Zibulo,” he says.
Why is this one quiet? I give him a stern look.
“You’d never know unless I try,” he says.
“Marriage problems,” Mabhungu says.
I signal for this one to keep talking.
“I can advice, you don’t sound okay,” he
says.
I’m proud of him.
“We want to have a baby but they say she
might fall pregnant after a year or two after
untying her tubes.”
My eyes widen.
“A year is not a long time to wait,” Zibulo
says.
“It’s not but I don’t have time.” So he’s trying
to get his wife pregnant as well.
Does he think the betrayal will look better if
they’re both pregnant. It will make the wife
even angry that she was impregnated as a
compensation.
“Eish, that’s tough, but I hope everything
works out,” Zibulo says, he’s not of any help
indeed.
“Thanks for calling, I appreciate it.”
Now I feel bad for him, he sounds really
broken.
I only speak once the call has been
disconnected.
“So the wife doesn’t know, she thinks he just
wants a baby?”
He exhales, “Yeah, it’s awful on both sides.”
“Both sides?” I ask.
“Mercy as well, they enjoyed sex together
and now she’s the only one suffering the
consequences,” he says.
“Just like me,” I say.
His gaze softens, he smiles.
“No, we are both pregnant. When are we
going to the doctor to hear the heartbeat?”
“When I’m 14 weeks, we’ll see the head as
well.”
“I can’t wait to see that head, I hope she or
he comes out looking like you.”
“The beauty of this relationship, right?”
He chuckles, “Yeah, the face!”

I drive home thinking about Mercy and her

situation. You know shit is happening once a
slayqueen wears black pumps in public. I’m
still trying to think back to my Biology
classes; what kind of sperm gives three
babies? How is she going to take care of
them alone. I know her sister lives in
Richard’s Bay, she’s married. They don’t
have parents, the grandmother would’ve
helped out. Maybe it’s better if you already
have a child, you’re a bit experienced in
motherhood. First time mom, boom triplets!
I check my Whatsapp messages after
parking, I need clients to raise the money my
mother needs. There’s nothing except my
mother forwarding me Bible scriptures.
Ntoko has updated her profile picture, I click
on the picture and zoom it in. It’s a picture of
her wearing almost nothing in the backyard I
don’t recognize. Ntoko has lost her mind, I
have no doubt that Zamani put her up to
this. Next thing she will be crying because
people commented on her cellulite. She’s
never been confident about her thighs and
butt because of it. I feel like Zamani is
setting her up.
I send her a text; Are you the Kim
Kardashian of the family now?
My mother would die if she knew how much
her daughter has changed.

CHAPTER 32
NTOKO ZWANE

Thando is having chest pains because I

posted a picture of myself having a
photoshoot at the back of Tusani’s house. I
know where she’s coming from, I’ve never
been comfortable being publicly naked, she’s
scared I will get hurt when people start
commenting. But when you are in a
relationship with a man who fakes jewelry
and ships them overseas, cellulite is the last
thing you worry about. He didn’t even know
that cellulite is a bad thing until I told him so,
and he still wanted us to take pictures. The
pictures were meant for his eyes only, just
like the love-making memory installation. But
I looked at them and loved them, and I
thought why not put a new profile picture?
I have dressed up by the way, nobody can
tell I was naked at the backyard about an
hour ago. Tusani has arrived as well, I’m in
the kitchen getting dinner ready. Today I’m
going to meet Bab’ Mathe. I’ve been told a
lot of things about him but I’m not sure if he
knows the kind of life they live. Or should I
say they’ve been living since they’re now
venturing into legit businesses?
I want to ask Thando for the recipes but I
have no desire to explain myself, so I’ll just
cook what I’m best at; beef curry and rice
and some salads to make it look fancy.
Tusani walks in to put glasses in the sink.
“It smells good here,” he says.
“I hope it tastes good too, I’m not a good
cook.”
“Is your sister not in the cooking business?”
he asks like it’s a genetic skill.
“She is but I’ve never taken lessons from
her,” I say.
“Don’t worry, I will hype you up even if it’s
tastes bad,” he says and walks away.
I laugh and continue with my peeling.

I’m almost done.

There are voices coming in.
I expected one person; an old friendly man.
But there are two girls walking in, followed
by a man I suspect is Mathe and a woman I
assume is his wife. Why didn’t anyone tell
me I’m cooking for the whole village?
They greet and pass, the man flashes a smile
at me.
I wait until they disappear to the lounge
before grabbing my phone and opening my
UberEats app. Yes, I’m ordering. I cannot
cook another rice now, it’s too late. The food
I cooked here is only enough for four people.
Zamani comes to the kitchen after a
moment, he can see that I’m frustrated right
now. “Are you okay?”
“I have ordered more food. Why the hell
didn’t you tell me he’s coming with his whole
family?” I ask.
“I didn’t know, are you managing alone
here?”
“Yes, I’m managing, don’t tell anyone to
come to my space. I have enough disorder
alone,” I say.
He kisses my cheek, “Okay sweerie, Tusani
will help you set up the table.”
“Thank you, keep them busy and give them
drinks while I wait for the food to be
delivered,” I say.
^
^
^
Food delivery delayed, I’m the worst host of
a girlfriend to ever live. But we finally had
things together and the table set and called
everyone to sit. The man has been staring
me the whole time, you know when someone
stares at you to the point of thinking maybe
there’s something wrong with you.
Zamani introduces everyone, the daughters
are Snothando and Nana. Then Mrs Mathe
and her husband. They look like those
couples who’ve been together for a very long
time that they ended up looking the same.
You get confused whether they’re married or
they’re siblings.
“So you’re the one who’s going to rebuild
Gedeza’s house?”
I just smile, Zamani answers with a very sure
yes. They start grilling me with questions;
what do I do for a living, where I’m from and
if I have kids.
“You look familiar,” I think this is Nana.
“Really?” I don’t get comfortable when
people say that because they usually bring
up your past skeletons.
“Yeah, I feel like I’ve seen you before,” she
says.
“Maybe you’ve seen me on Facebook.” Can
she shut up already?
“Yeah, maybe. You’re beautiful by the way.”
“Thank you.”
Phewww! I need to breathe.
“Have you and Zamani made any plans for
the future?” – the Mrs.
I look at Zamani, he’s letting me answer this
one.
“We haven’t, but we will make them when
the time comes,” I say.
Nana chuckles, “So it’s just vibes for now?”
“Yes, and building a strong foundation for our
relationship so that we don’t collapse in the
future,” I say.
Mathe smiles, “I like you.”
Zamani looks pleased by that. He wanted
him to like me, I know it means a lot to him.
“But you need to help them build a place to
call home, they’re black men.”
This responsibility is shoved to me by force.
I fake a smile; why am I being put on the
spot like this?

By the time dinner comes to an end I’ve

already yawned ten times and spotted who
has a crush on my man between the girls. It
looks like they’re both in their early twenties,
a perfect age to go out and find their own
boyfriends. The mother was a bit offish as
well, maybe she was going to arrange
marriage for her daughter. Bab’ Mathe is the
only one I can say he genuinely likes and
supports this relationship. And I think Zamani
is content with that; it’s his approval he
wanted after all.
“MaZwane,” his voice calls just as he departs
my head.
I look up, he’s smiling.
“Yebo baba,”
“You’re a good cook, if I stayed around here I
would’ve asked Zamani for a room, just so I
can come everyday.”
He’s kind, that wasn’t the best curry but I
tried.
“Thank you,” I say laughing.
“Let me hope I will be called to visit your
family soon.”
Lobola talk already? I pretend to be liking the
topic.
“Please be patient with him,” he says.
I nod, there’s something genuine and caring
in his voice.
“He had a tough time growing up, it had to
happen too quick because he had to look
after his brother and abandon his own life,”
he says.
“Yeah, I know baba. But he can be very
unpredictable and uncontrollable.” I won’t
mention the gun incident because I don’t
know the dynamics of their relationship.
“Teach him to stop the nonsense, men are
weak to the women they love,” he says.
“I try,” I say.
“If he gives you problems tell Tusani, if
Tusani fails he will bring it to me and that’s
where umphelandaba is,” he says.
Zamani appears behind him, “Where is
umphelandaba?”
“At the wedding venue,” – Mathe.
He smiles and looks at me.
“Did you hear that?”
I turn back to the sink and rinse the glasses.
Mathe laughs and bids us goodbye.
Zamani and Tusani walk them out, I stay in
the kitchen.

Only Tusani comes back, he offers to help me

clean up but I say no.
Time passes, Zamani hasn’t come back from
walking the Mathes to their car outside.
My instincts tell me to go outside and check
what’s keeping him.
The car has left. I look around and spot him
standing with someone next to Tusani’s car.
They are standing very close to one another,
I make my way there, his back is turned to
me. As I walk closer I notice that it’s
Snothando, the one who was quiet.
She sees me first and takes one step back.
Then Zamani turns and looks at me, there’s
guilt all over his face.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“She’s waiting for an Uber to come and pick
her up.”
“Oh,” I stand with my arms folded.
Her phone rings, I don’t know if it’s her ride
or she’s running away, but she leaves
immediately, before she even answers the
call.
“It’s not what you think,” Zamani says.
“What am I thinking?” I ask
“I don’t know sweerie, you look angry.”
“Why were you standing on her face?”
“Come on Ntoko, it’s not a sin to stand close
when you’re talking to someone. I wouldn’t
disrespect you like that.”
He did it once, what could stop him this
time?
“Mfethu awukahle, why are you like this? I
thought you trust me.” He sounds even more
guilty trying to paint me like a jealous
girlfriend.
“We can call her, she’ll tell you there’s
nothing between us. I see her as a little
sister, I know her since she was a baby,” he’s
explaining all this and I only asked why he
was standing close to her face.

I go back inside the house and carry on

cleaning the kitchen. It’s their house, both of
them, but he prefers the flat than to live
here. We are sleeping here today, I don’t
know how I’m going to do that, sharing a bed
with him, while I know that he’s hiding
something from me. The wife clearly didn’t
like me for the mutual reason with her
daughters. There’s something there, I was
being a fool serving them with a smile on my
face.
After cleaning the kitchen I say goodnight to
Tusani and get in the shower. I’m out within
five minutes and putting my nightie on,
that’s when he comes in.
He stands next to the bed, I don’t look at
him, I lotion my face and get in bed.
“Ntoko,” he says.
I keep quiet under the covers.
“Ngiyaxolisa” he says.
“For what?” I ask.
“For not being truthful. But it’s still not what
you think, I never had a thing with
Snothando,” he says.
“Then what is the truth Zamani?”
“Before I met you I was going to have a thing
with Nana. It was part of an old arrangement
between the elders but I wasn’t ready for
marriage and she was still young. So I
backed out, we talked about it with Mathe.”
“Then what were you discussing with her
sister?” I ask.
“I was a mess, I slipped and ended up having
sex with her. But it wasn’t part of any deal,
we didn’t have the connection. So I was just
explaining to Snothando and asking that she
talks to her for me, I saw that she wasn’t
okay at the table.”
“That’s very observant of you,” I say, I’m
angry.
“I didn’t know they were coming,
ngiyaxolisa.”
“It’s okay. Where are you going to sleep?”
“What do you mean? Are we not sleeping
together?”
“No Zamani, we are not, I’m here because
it’s too late for me to go back to my house. I
hate being fooled, especially in front of
people. You were outside for over ten
minutes just asking that girl to talk her sister
that you fucked.”
“Ngiyaxolisa, I see what I did wrong, I
understand why you’re not happy. I don’t
have a good reputation, we are still building
the trust…”
“That’s not going to fix anything. If you sleep
here I will ask Tusani for another room or
sleep on the couch.” I mean it.
“Can we talk about this?”
“No, Zamani.”
“What picture are we painting to Tusani?”
Wow, he cares more about his brother than
the actual problem.
“Zamani don’t make me request an Uber to
take me home!”
“There’s nothing going on, you can take my
phone and go through everything. I’m not
lying to you.” He’s still here?
“I don’t care Zamani, just leave me alone.”
He heaves a deep sigh and walks out.

CHAPTER 33
MABHUNGU
He’s told Madlokovu about the situation he’s
facing, as well as Zibulo. Nobody has a
solution for him. Madlokovu told him to
confess to his wife but he knows that would
be the end of his marriage. He’s going to try
having a baby with her, miracles can happen
in less than a year. He wants her to know
about Mercy when she’s at least carrying a
baby too.
He drinks his booster and goes to the
bedroom. MaMzotho is already in bed, it’s
one of those days where she just wants to
sleep; she’s tired. They untied her tunes
successfully, now there’s no time to sleep
without trying for a baby. He believes if
they’re consistent she will catch and
conceive.
He touches her waist and asks, “Are you
sleeping?”
“Mmmm,” MaMzotho replies in her sleep.
He lifts her nightie up and pushes his hand
into her underwear. She moves
uncomfortably and asks what time it is.
“It’s 9:44, let’s make one round before we
sleep.”
“I’m tired Dunga, “ she yawns.
“How are you going to conceive if you don’t
let me in?”
“But they said after a year or two, nothing is
going to happen now.”
“Let’s try, they’re not God,” he says.
MaMzotho exhales and pulls down her
nightie.
“Nolundi?”
“Yini Dunga? I’m tired.”
“Is it okay if I stroke myself with a hand and
only spill inside you?”
Heavy sigh! She’s not interested in doing this
because it sounds less of a passion and more
like a forced situation. But she agrees, she
said she’d support his dreams.

He lifts her nightie up and peels off the

blanket and lies on his back with his other
hand touching her butt. He shuts his eyes
and does what no married man ever do in
bed with his wife. He touches himself. He’s
getting flashbacks of the best night he’s had,
memories are helping him get stimulated.
A moan escapes his mouth, he tries to be
calm and not make noise. There’s a voice
ringing in his head telling him to go deeper,
he goes deeper in his hand. He’s trying to
moan softly but his hand is getting the better
of him. His other hand grabs MaMzotho’s
buttocks tighter.
“Please open, I’m close,” he says getting on
his feet with his hand wrapped around his
hard shaft.
MaMzotho turns and lies on her back with her
knees up.
He pushes her panties to the side and rubs
her clit’s moisture to her opening. He’s
stroking himself for another minute before he
slides into her in one long push and spills his
sperms inside her.
He pulls out and wipes himself and lies next
to her.
“Why are you not wiping me?” – MaMzotho.
“No, don’t wipe anything.” He pulls down her
nightie and kisses her cheek and pulls up the
blankets. “Thank you.”
^
^
^
Mabhungu wakes up earlier than his wife and
prepares her lunchbox and plugs water for
her bath. There’s a bucket of mahewu she
made for him to drink so that he can gain
back his weight. They haven’t helped her
yet, instead he’s losing more weight,
seemingly by each day that passes.
He checks the time and goes back to the
bedroom to wake her up. It’s 15 minutes
earlier than her usual time of waking up, he
wants them to spend some time in bed
before she takes a bath.
He wakes her up with face kisses.
MaMzotho grunts lazily and opens her eyes.
“What time is it?”
“Don’t worry, you still have time, I have
gotten your dress and lunchbox ready.”
“Oh, thank you Dunga.”
He smiles and plants a kiss on her shoulder.
“I woke you up early so that we can have
some time before you take a bath,” he tells
her.
“But I’m going to work Dunga.”
He exhales heavily, he didn’t think she’d be
so difficult, she agreed to give him a baby.
“Do you want me to do it the way we did last
night?”
“Yeah,” she says with a deep sigh.
He takes her panties off and takes a chair.
He sits in front of the bed and asks her to
open her legs. Having the view of the
coochie helps him get his shaft hard quicker.
He strokes it with his hand until he’s close
and then stands and goes over the bed. He
rubs her opening to make it moist and then
pushes his shaft in. After a few thrusts he
nuts inside her.
He pulls out, “Don’t put your knees down.”
He stands and holds her legs up for two
minutes or so.
Then he kisses her and tells her she can go
and take a bath.

Today he decides to drive her to work since

he doesn’t have much planned for the day.
On his way back home he calls Mercy, he
needs to know how things are going. Their
last phone call was nasty, he’s still angry but
today he wants to talk calmly.
She answers on the second attempt in a very
depressed voice.
“How are you?” he asks.
“Why are you calling me?”
“To ask how are you,” he says.
“I didn’t kill myself, I’m still breathing the
same air you’re breathing. I hope that
answers your question Bayede,” she’s not in
the mood.
“When is your ultrasound scan
appointment?”
“Next week,” she says without biting his
head off.
“Tell me the date, I have to be there and see
it for myself.”
“See what?” she asks.
“That you’re not lying.”
“Lying about what?”
“The ultrasound can tell when you conceived,
right?”
She’s stunned. “So now you want to say
you’re not the father?”
“I’m not saying that but I need to know,
because I don’t know who else you were
sleeping with,” he says.
“You don’t want kids, right? Leave me alone,
I will figure it out just like everything else.
You don’t have to do anything.”
“I didn’t want to have kids but if I have them
I don’t need to abandon them. I might lose e
everything that I have because of this, while
you have nothing to lose Mercy.”
“I don’t care, don’t call me to whine about
your precious life that’s falling apart. I’m
carrying three babies, I’m not your
therapist.”
“The date Mercy?”
She clicks her tongue.
Call disconnected.
^
^
^
NTOKO ZWANE

I almost feel sorry for him when I walk past

him sleeping on the couch, but then I
remember what he did and walk past like I
didn’t even see him. Tusani is in the kitchen.
God, I have to explain.
“Morning sisi,” he says, he’s drinking coffee.
“Hey Tusani, how did you sleep?”
“Good, but it looks like I was the only one
sleeping good.”
“Not really, I slept good too,” I say.
“Can I make you a cup of coffee?” Isn’t he
sweet?
“Please, can I have it in my room?”
“Room service, yes.”
I laugh and leave him boiling water. This one
is now sitting up and staring at me thinking
I’ll feel sorry for him. I don’t say anything to
him, I go back inside the bedroom and leave
the door slightly open.
I make the bed and take my phone from the
charger.
There’s a knock…
How fast does Tusani make coffee?
“Come in,” I yell.
Somebody kill me now.
“I thought it was Tusani with my coffee.”
“No, it’s me,” he says.
I almost roll my eyes, I drop my eyes back to
my phone.
He clears his throat. It’s still early bathong!
“I just wanted to show Bab’ Mathe that I’m in
good hands,” he says.
“Which hands? Mine or Nana’s?” I ask.
“Yours. If I knew this is where last night’s
dinner would leave us I wouldn’t have
bothered. I love you more than I love myself,
why can’t you see that?”
“Because you don’t show it Zamani, you do
shit after shit and expect me to forgive you
every week. What kind of a relationship is
that?”
“The bottom line is that I love you, no one
else,” he says.
This is going nowhere, I drop my eyes back
to the phone.
He steps closer and grabs it. He puts it away
and stares at me.
“What do you want me to do to prove that
I’m telling you the truth? Surely you’re not
sulking about the sex I made before I even
knew you existed.”
“I am,” I say.
He sighs, “I cannot unfuck her.”
“Maybe fuck yourself then.”
“Nontoko…” There’s Tusani at the door.
He glances back, takes a deep breath and
sits on the bed.
“Come in Tusani,” I say.
He walks in, leaves my coffee on the bedside
table and walks out as quick as he can.
“I will fuck myself, only if you tell me you
believe me,”-Zamani.
“Well, I don’t,” I say.
“Okay, cool. Can we at least stop fighting?”
“You’re the only one fighting, I’m not.”
He heaves a deep sigh, “I missed you last
night.”
“Well, I didn’t miss you,” I say.
I turn my eyes and look at him. He’s looking
at me. I don’t know why I’m laughing
because he joins in too, and now it looks like
we are cool.
“You really let me sleep on the couch?” he
asks.
“I said you can have the bed and I’ll go sleep
there.”
“Tusani would’ve killed me if I did that. He
loves you more than he loves the person he
shared a womb with,” he says.
I laugh, “Ask for my witchdoctor’s contact
details.”
“I’d rather ask for a head, it’s cold.”
I pick my coffee and show it to him. “This is
what people drink when they’re cold, they
don’t get their dicks suck,” I say.
“I’m not people, I’m your man.”
“That’s a good one, but nope, I’m still angry
at you.”
“You’re angry at me, ipipi lona lenzeni?”
(what did my dick do)
I laugh and almost choke on the coffee. I love
this idiot. I’m not sure if I overreacted about
last night’s incident but one thing I know is
that I’ll always sleep with one eye open.

CHAPTER 34
MERCY

She sent him the date of her doctor’s

appointment and he responded with a simple
thank you. He hasn’t communicated and
today is the day, she’s not sure if he’s going
to come or not, so she’s with Nomuzi just in
case. They’re here 15 minutes before her
appointment and waiting.
“Do you think he’s coming?” – Nomuzi.
“I don’t know, if he comes he comes,” Mercy
shrugs.
She keeps looking at her phone for the time
and breathing heavily. Him saying he doesn’t
want to have kids is one thing, but to want to
deny paternity! She felt insulted, which she
may have deserved because it’s her who
went after him. But that doesn’t mean she
was sleeping around. Today she prays that
he comes, not because she misses his
company or hope things will change, she
wants him to ask the doctor all the questions
he might have, including calculating her
weeks and linking them back to the day they
were together.

They’re about to go inside, when she lifts her

eyes they land on him making his way
towards them. He’s wearing a brown leather
jacket, fitted jeans and a black hat. Today he
does look like a young village king.
Nomuzi looks at her with raised eyebrows.
He greets without looking directly at Mercy.
They both greet him back, Nomuzi thought
she’d give him some drama but he’s a bit
intimidating. So they make their way inside
the doctor’s office without any argument.

He’s on his phone when Mercy exchanges

greetings with the doctor and explains how
the past weeks have been like. He only looks
up when she talks about DNA test.
The doctor tells them it’s risky to conduct a
test during pregnancy.
Nomuzi jumps in, “DNA can be done when
the babies are born, insecurities are not
important than their lives. Their father can
make his calculations and make peace with it
for now.”
“I’m not insecure, she knows why I need
confirmation,” Mabhungu says, he’s calm.
“Because I was sleeping around?” – Mercy.
The doctor clears her throat, “Let’s go to the
ultrasound room and check how they are.”
Mercy doesn’t need these arguments, she
doesn’t need more stress from her family,
they should be supporting her.
Mercy’s tummy has grown, she’s stressed
but still gaining weight. While Mabhungu
almost looks like a skeleton; he’s not the
man who tied her hands and fucked her
throughout the night two months ago.
His heart almost stops when he hears the
sound of the heatbeat.
“Here, we have the first one. It looks like the
other two have showed themselves as well,”
she’s pointing at the screen. Mabhungu
would be lying if he says he sees anything
but he can hear their heartbeats.
“Everything looks good…see this one, here’s
the head…” Mercy is in tears. Yes, she didn’t
want them too and she doesn’t know what
the future holds. But seeing their shadows
and hearing their heartbeats brings her to
the brink of motherhood. She has to protect
these buy-one-get-two-free, they’re hers
even if they’re hers alone.
Nomuzi is holding her hand, she’s teary too.
“Is it the same gender?” she asks.
Mercy shakes her head, “No, don’t reveal
that information Doc. I don’t want to know.”
“Why?” – Nomuzi.
“I want to see them when they come.”
Nomuzi looks at the doctor, “What is the
maximum number of weeks she can carry?”
“32 weeks, I’ll have to watch closely to her.
Also, she doesn’t need any type of stress or
trigger. If there are any issues within the
family I ask her to be distanced from them
and supported as much as possible. This is a
high-risk pregnancy, she needs love, not
fights.”
Mabhungu drops his eyes. The number of
weeks and estimated day of conceiving
points at him as a father. He doesn’t have
anything for a woman like Mercy to trap him
with babies. Seeing her cry breaks his heart,
as much as he blames her for everything he
knows he played a huge part in making this
trio she’s now carrying alone. He hasn’t
thought about them arriving, what they’d
look like or if they’ll be of the same gender.
He hasn’t thought of himself as a father,
without MaMzotho in his life. He’s not looking
forward to the future but he wants to be a
present person in their life.
Nomuzi leaves first, she’s giving them some
privacy. He walks behind her carrying her
medication. Now he’s depressed more than
ever. At times he finds himself struggling to
breathe and having anxiety attacks.
They don’t talk until they’re next to her car.
Nomuzi is sitting inside watching them.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to come to your
next appointment,” he says to her.
Mercy just nods, she wasn’t betting on it.
“But I will try to be supportive as much as I
can. Things are not good on my side, I don’t
know if they’ll ever be okay,” he heaves a
low sigh. “Send me your account details, I’ll
send the money on the 7th.”
“”Okay, thanks,” she’s not looking at him.
Seeing him looking like this just proves how
much he didn’t want these babies.
He gives her the brown bag of medication
and looks at his car. He needs to be home
before his wife comes back from work.
“We will talk,” he says.
She nods and watches him walk away. He
didn’t even ask to keep some of the
ultrasound pictures; he doesn’t want this.
^
^
THANDO ZWANE
At last, I’ve been booked. I need more
business before my stomach grows and I
struggle to stand on the stove. I’m
communicating with the girls and the bride
who’s getting married. It’s kind of short
notice, three weeks. But as my CV says, I
work well even under pressure.
There’s a call coming in, my babe.
I answer cheerfully, “Sthandwa sami.”
“Hey, do you mind coming over?”
“Your house?” I thought he’d be home late,
he was at the warehouse today.
“Yes,” he says.
“Are you okay?” With him you never know.
“Yeah, I just need some help.”
“Okay, I’m coming.” I use any chance to
drive my Range Rover. Well, his.
I change my clothes and grab my car keys
and purse and leave.
I’m in his house in no time. As I make my
way to the door my phone rings.
“I’m at the back,” he says.
Okay, I’ve watched enough movies I know
how romantic men pull surprises at the back
of their houses. I could walk to a candle-lit
dinner and a pianist playing a sweet tune for
me.
Cancel the pianist, there’s only him here and
he’s sitting on the ground flat on his ass.
There’s no candle-lit dinner either. It looks
like he fell, I don’t know, I’m rushing over
him in panic.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“No, please get my pills in the kitchen
drawer.”
“Zibulo you called me instead of an
ambulance or anyone closer. How long have
you been sitting here?” Is he well upstairs?
“I called you,” he says, he doesn’t care what
could’ve happened if I didn’t drive here
quickly.
There’s no time for bickering, I rush inside
the house and look for his medication. I grab
a bottle of water and rush back to where he
is.
He drinks the pills, but they don’t work
instantly. I have to sit with him until he’s
strong enough to stand than I can help him
walk inside. I don’t even want to suggest
people he can call, who’d come immediately
and be strong enough to carry him in. I know
what his answer will be; an obvious no.
“Maybe you should get a wheelchair,” I say.
“You’re exaggerating,” he says and attempts
to stand.
It doesn’t happen right away, he holds my
hand and keeps trying until his feet allow him
to. We make baby-steps inside the house and
go straight to the bedroom.
I take his shoes off and sit next to him.
“Thank you baby. Are you driving back?”
“You know I can’t leave you alone here.
You’re stressing me out Zibulo, you need to
know that,” I tell him.
“I’m sorry to be a burden,” he says.
“Don’t twist it, you’re refusing to contact
people who can help you. You don’t want to
go to your grandfather’s house and regard
your people.”
He closes his eyes and pretends to be falling
asleep.
“Can I have your phone?” I ask.
He opens his eyes, “Why?”
“I want to call your brother.”
“Thando don’t start me,” he says.
I’m not going to be told what to do and
what’s not by a sick person. I take it from his
pocket by force and ask him the password.
“Don’t make me a subject of that
conversation,” he warns before unlocking the
phone.
I look for Mabhungu’s number and call him.
Did he say he doesn’t want to become a
subject of this phone call?
“Hello, it’s Thando, your brother is not well,”
I say when Mabhungu answers the call and
earn myself a cold glare.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Is it bad?”
“No, but it might escalate because he
doesn’t want to get help.”
“Can I talk to him?”
I put the call on loudspeaker.
“Zibulo are you there?”
He gives me another mean glare before he
responds.
“Yeah, I’m here,” he says.
“Please come to the village, you’re not
coming to me, I want to take you to someone
who can help you traditionally,” – Mabhungu.
“When bhuti?” I ask before he says whatever
nonsense he wants to say.
“Thursday, if possible.”
I look at him, I know deep down he wishes
we never met.
“I don’t want to drink bitter concoctions,” he
sound like a spoilt three-year old.
“You won’t,” Mabhungu is always patient
with him, I need his heart.
I thank him and end the call.
“See, now I love you,” I kiss his lips.
He’s not kissing me back; hectic.
^
^
^
Thursday arrives, I’ve prepared everything
for the road. The driver will be here in 10
minutes, I know he’s not okay with this whole
trip. One thing he hates more than not
wearing shoes is the Dunga village, and I’m
taking him back there.
He’s standing in front of the mirror staring at
his reflection.
“You look good,” I say standing behind him
and folding the collar of his shirt.
He breathes heavily and says nothing.
“You have to be okay for our baby. I wasn’t
raised to like traditional healers but I know in
situations like this they help. And for you I’d
be put everything on the line, even my
beliefs,” I say with my hands placed on his
shoulders.
He pulls me to the front, he doesn’t say
anything, he just hugs me. I know one day he
will be at peace with his past and he will
reflect back to this day and understand why
we had to do this.

CHAPTER 35
MABHUNGU
Thando calls and says they’re driving past
the Tugela Bridge. He gives them directions
to Madlokovu’s homestead and tells
MaMzotho who’s taken a day off work. She’s
preparing food just in case they decide to
pop in before they drive back to Durban.
Over the past weeks she’s seen her
husband’s affection decline, together with his
weight. She hasn’t been kissed and touched
the right way in a long time. The only time he
touches her is when he’s getting her panties
off to fill her with his cum. Yes, she’s not a
willing participant in the baby-making
process, which she initially agreed to make.
She allows him to make her his sperm-dish, it
happens every night before they sleep and
every morning when they wake up. It always
leaves her feeling dirty, like she’s nothing
more than a dish for his sperms. She hasn’t
been reaching her target at work. The
problem is, she doesn’t even know what’s
going on. Why is she getting this treatment?
He doesn’t even look at her face when he
does his thing; he either stares at her private
part or close his eyes. Maybe she’s no longer
attractive, he met someone else in Durban
during those trips to his brother. That’s when
things started getting strange.
He comes to the kitchen after brushing his
teeth and hugs her from behind.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
She nods, “Yeah.”
“Why don’t you take a chair and sit? You will
get tired and later you’ll be wanting to
sleep,” he says.
Making a baby is all he cares about.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be okay,” she says.
“No Nolundi, I’m tired of having sex with my
hand, I married you, not my hand.”
“Okay baba, I hear you,” she says with a low
sigh.
“You have to be active as well, how are you
going to get pregnant if you’re always lying
like a slaughtered chicken?”
“I will be active,” she says.
He hugs her again and kisses her cheek.
“Thank you, we will talk when I come back.”
He takes his hat and walks out.
MaMzotho takes the chair as she was
instructed and sits. She waits until she hears
the car driving out before letting tears flood
her face. She cannot badmouth her husband,
but this is slowly killing her inside. He doesn’t
care anymore, he doesn’t love her, the only
thing he wants is a baby. When he looks at
her he doesn’t see the love of his life but the
incubator that’s going to carry his sperm by
force.
Now her biggest worry is what’s going to
happen when he realizes that she’s not
getting pregnant, the doctors weren’t crazy
when they said she won’t get pregnant right
away.
^
^
^
THANDO ZWANE

We are in the south of the village, there are

more forests than houses. We are bumping
into cattle more than human beings. We had
to leave the car on top of the hill and
continue by foot. Mabhungu is with us, he’s
leading the way. Zibulo has been awfully
quiet since we got here. I think he’s
overwhelmed by the bad memories he has of
this place.
Oh, the sun is doing a number one on us.
“Bhuti can I borrow your hat?” I’m not sure if
a commoner is allowed to borrow a king’s hat
but the sun is about to turn me into a
vetkoek.
He gladly takes it off and gives it to me. Isn’t
he such a lovely king?
“Thank you,” I say.
“You’re welcome MaZwane.”
I’m walking behind them, a snake slithers
right in front of me and disappears in the
hedge of grass at the side of the road. I
scream my lungs out, Zibulo almost trips and
fall as he turns and runs to me.
“A snake!” I’m shaking like a leaf.
“Don’t panic, they’re harmless,”- Mabhungu.
I’m slow or something. Snake and harmless
in one sentence?
“Zibulo ask the driver to come, I won’t walk
past here again.” I’m sure the snake is
lurking somewhere and it’s going to wait
until we come back and then bite me.
“The road is bad, don’t make him come here,
snakes won’t harm us,”- Mabhungu. You’d
swear he went to school with these snakes.
Zibulo holds my hand, he doesn’t look
shaken by the snake incident. Am I the only
one who knows that snakes aren’t besties
with human beings?
“Don’t worry, I will hit them,” he says.
I crack with laughter. Hit snakes? He can’t
even walk without shoes for crying out loud.

We enter below the kraal, my nerves are

scattered all over the place. You can smell
impepho and traditional medicines from
here, I’m scared of places like this. I always
imagine dead people staring at me and
tikoloshes trying to grab my hair.
A woman meets us in front of the house, she
says her husband is waiting for us. Then she
looks at me, “Let me grab you something to
cover your shoulders.”
She disappears inside and comes back with a
brown towel. I hate brown towels, people
wipe themselves with them after having sex.
But I take it, I don’t want to be rude.
Mabhungu leads us to the consultation hut.
He takes his shoes off at the door.
I think we have a problem.
Mabhungu looks back at us.
“Shoes don’t go in,” he says.
I take mine off, Zibulo stands.
“Babe,” I know this one is going to be a
challenge.
“I’m not taking my shoes off,” he says.
I look at his brother. Convincing him to come
here took a month, convincing him to take
his shoes off can take a year.
“You can’t walk inside with shoes on,”
Mabhungu says.
“I guess we are leaving, I’m not walking in
without shoes.”
And people wonder why I’m not mentally
stable!
The man inside must’ve heard the argument,
he comes out and looks at me and Zibulo.
Then he drops his eyes at his shoes and
shakes his head.
“It’s okay, come in,” he says.
That’s a relief, I know he wouldn’t have
compromised shoes even for the wellness of
his life. I’m not sure I want to be inside here,
there’s smoke filling the house and creepy
bones laid on the floor.
“So you’re carrying his princess?” he says to
me.
My mouth drops open. Is he a sangoma or
ultrasound scan? What a way of finding out
the gender!
“Congratulations,” he says to Zibulo and
then looks at Mabhungu.
“Four grandkids of the same age? Your father
is proud boys.”
This also confirms Mabhungu being Mercy’s
triplets father. How powerful is this man?
He’s also a walking laboratory giving DNA
test results. Neither of the ‘boys’ looks
happy. Zibulo hates hearing about his father
and Mabhungu hasn’t come to terms with
Mercy’s pregnancy.
The man looks at Zibulo, “You’re very
stubborn. Why didn’t you come when she
told you to?
He doesn’t answer.
“You’re not sick, you just need to listen to
her.”
I feel like an intellect. Zibulo is looking at me,
I don’t know what’s going through his mind
right now.
“She’s right, your mother speaks through
her.”
Now wait a minute, his mother does what?
I’m scared of dead people, whether they act
as ancestors or ghosts, I get creeps.
“I heard you don’t want bitter concoctions,”
the man says with a soft chuckle.
“Yeah, I don’t,” he says.
“Well, you better act fast before things get
worse.” I think that’s all, he’s done.
He didn’t even light the candles or throw
bones, he looked at us and told us what’s up.
This is the kind of things I believe are gifts
from God.

Zibulo has been silenced. I’m waiting to hear

him apologize for almost killing me every
time I gave him advice. I’m his mother, his
mother is me, we are together.
I only remember the snake when I get to the
car. Maybe Mabhungu was right; they’re
harmless.
“My wife took a day off hoping you’d pass by
on your way back,” Mabhungu says.
I look at Zibulo, I’m not sure about him going
to the royal house.
“Pass our warm regards,” he says.
Mabhungu nods, he’s disappointed.
“Thank you bhuti for today,” I say, I’m feeling
bad that the wife went out of her way to wait
for us. “We will visit one day,” I say.
“Okay MaZwane, have a safe journey,” he
says.
“Thank you brother, drive safely as well.”
This is the first time I ever hear him calling
Mabhungu his brother. There’s progress, I
think they’re going to be okay.
^
^
^
MABHUNGU

He gets home with a sense of relief, partly

because his brother is going to be okay and
because the paternity of the triplets has
been confirmed. MaMzotho is outside doing
laundry. She leaves everything when she
sees him driving in and waits for him under
the veranda. She’s already disappointed that
Zibulo and his girlfriend did not come; she
cooked for them.
They walk inside, she asks about their
journey.
“He will be fine, I think he needs to perform
some ceremonies at his grandmother’s
house and acknowledge his grandfather,”
Mabhungu tells her.
“That’s good, I was hoping to see them,” she
says.
“They said they’ll visit one day, let’s hope
they come soon.”
“Should I dish up for you?” she asks.
“No, I’m not hungry,” he says.
How can he be not hungry looking like this?
“Amahewu?” she asks.
He shakes his head.
Then he exhales, “There’s something I need
to take care of this month. I don’t know if
you’d mind if your money is R800 short?”
“What is it that you need to take care of?”
“I want to go see the doctor in Durban.”
“Why? Are you sick?”
“I just want to get my left wrist checked.”
She knows that his wrist bothers him at
times, she’s happy that he’s finally thinking
of getting it checked.
“Okay, it’s fine. But I will need double the
money you give me the following month, I
also have things I want to take care of,” she
says.
“When do we start saving the capital for our
business?”
“I don’t know, maybe you should sell one
cow,” she says.
He just looks at her, his cows are his pride,
she knows it.
MaMzotho chuckles, “Why are you looking at
me like that?”
“Because you want me to sell my cows but
you don’t want to give me your cow.”
She clears her throat and stands, “Let me go
and finish doing my laundry.”
He holds her arm, “Let’s go to the bedroom, I
will help you with laundry.”
“We can do it later Dunga,” she says with a
sigh.
“We’ll be doing our second round later,” he
pulls her to the bedroom and shuts the door.
He takes off her apron and throws it on the
floor, leaving her with a skirt and bra. He
captures her lips in a deep kiss and pushes
her to the bed.
He sucks her nipples, grabs her thighs and
kisses her all over the neck. She’s tense but
she’s playing along. He pulls her panties off
and tweaks her clit; she’s still dry.
He kisses her again and plays with her clit
and nipples.
“Are you okay?” he asks in a low whisper.
“Yeah,” she releases a moan.
He sticks his finger into her coochie again,
she’s not wet enough.
He goes to the drawer and get her massage
oil, he drops some on her opening and rubs it
all around. Then he kisses her again and
pushes his hard shaft in. It’s been a long time
since she let him in for real sex, he’s unable
to control his pace, he wants to be deeply
buried inside her.
“Dunga!” she cries.
He thrusts in deeper and deeper.
“Yeah mama,” he latches her nipple and
sucks it.
“Mabhungu!” She’s screaming.
He pounds harder and pulls out before he
explodes. He taps it on her clit and lifts his
eyes to her. She’s crying real tears.
He stops moving, “What’s wrong?”
“You’re hurting me,” she sobs loudly.
“Am I too fast?”
“Just get off me.” She pushes him.
“I haven’t cum,” he pushes her legs apart.
She closes them and pushes him off.
“I’m your wife, not your bitch,” she stands up
and puts her clothes on.
“We are trying to make a baby Nolundi.”
She glares at him; she’s fed up.
“My body doesn’t dance to your tune
Mabhungu. I’m not going to pop a baby
because now for some reasons that I don’t
know you want to have a baby. You’ll get
skinny until you disappear, don’t take your
frustrations out on my body.”
“I’m not taking out my frustrations on you,”
he pleads.
“You’re not? Explain treating me like your
sperm-dish Mabhungu. Tell me why you can’t
look at me in the eyes? What’s pushing you
to demand a baby now? What happened in
Durban?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he
denies and picks up his pants with trembling
hands.
She’s glaring at him.
“You’ve been traumatizing me Mabhungu.
The way you’ve been treating me is hurtful,
nobody deserves this. I don’t even know
what’s happening with you, don’t expect me
be a blind participant.”
“Can we talk about this?” His wife has never
raised her voice at him like this.
He understands, maybe he put too much
pressure.
“I have laundry to do, you can make your
secret phonecalls so long.”
She storms out and slams the door behind
her.
It’s game over!
She’s not going to get pregnant, she doesn’t
want to. His initial plan of saving the last bits
of his marriage has fallen short. All that is left
is for her to pack her bags and leave. But
he’s not going down without a fight, even if it
means leaving the throne.
^
^
^
He wakes up early in the morning and packs
all their clothes. Every cloth, every
underwear. He loads the bags in the car and
goes to Dungas grave to say goodbye. He’s
not sure where he’s running to, but he knows
he’s leaving with his wife and leaving the
throne for those that it rightfully belongs to.
He wants to fight for his marriage without the
responsibilities of being a king.
Madlokovu, as if he dreamed about him,
arrives at the royal house. He sees that
Mabhungu is dressed, the car doors are open
and it’s only 5am.
“Dunga,” he stops above the kraal.
Mabhungu turns his head, he’s shocked to
see Madlokovu so early in the morning.
“Yebo baba,” he says.
“There’s a war brewing, you cannot abandon
your people.” He already knows that he’s
leaving, he saw it coming.
“I cannot stay baba, I’m sorry.”
“Running is not going to solve your
problems. The village still needs you, you
said you’re a father of these people. Two
people from the Mthiyanes were killed,
leaving the village without a king will make
things escalate to a civil war where many
innocent lives will be taken.”
“Zibulo is alive, I have to take care of myself
before I can take care of Dunga’s people. I
have done my part, baba saw me wherever
he is, I looked after his throne. But
unfortunately things are falling apart in my
marriage, I need to focus on that.”
Madlokovu chuckles, “Mabhungu, you did not
cheat because you are a king, you cheated
because you’re a cheater.”
“Whatever it is that you think, I’m leaving. I
will keep the village in my prayers.”
He goes inside the house and wakes
MaMzotho up.
She rubs her eyes, “Am I late?”
“No, you are not going to work today mkami.
Get up and get dressed.” He gives her the
dress and shoes, she’s confused.
“Get dressed Nolundi.”
“Where are we going?”
“I don’t know but we are leaving.”
“Why? What happened?”
He only glances at his watch and says,
“Hurry up.”

CHAPTER 36
THANDO ZWANE
I’m going through the grocery list from the
woman whose wedding I’ll be catering for.
I’m sitting in front of the TV, being kept
company by it. It’s been two days since we
came back from The Dunga village, Zibulo
finally agreed to go back home and
acknowledge his grandfather regardless of
the relationship he had with his mother.
I’ve been thinking about his background a
lot, and the fact that I promised Mabhungu
we will visit. So when I hear ‘the Dunga
village’ being mentioned on TV I immediately
look up. It’s morning news, the reporter is
talking about a civil war that has broken back
in the village. By the look of things and the
number of people he says have died, this is
serious.
I grab my phone and call Zibulo, his brother
is there.
He answers, “Baby I’m driving.”
“You’re not watching the news?”
“No, I’m driving sthandwa sami.”
“There’s a war back in the village, 6 people
have died.”
“Which village?” he asks.
“Your father’s village, people are fighting,
find out what’s going on.”
“Okay, I will call Mabhungu and find out if
he’s okay,” he says, very unbothered.
I know he doesn’t care about the village
because he hates his whole Dunga family,
but now innocent people are involved,
among the people who died is a 14 year old
boy. That’s some fucked up shit.

He calls me back after a few minutes.

“His phone is not going through.” There’s a
panic in his voice.
“You don’t have his wife’s number?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Call Madlokovu, the man we went to see.”
“Oh, yes. Let me try, I will get back to you.”
Now I cannot focus, I’m scared, what if
something happened to Mabhungu? I know
they didn’t get along but there’s a sense of
security I get from knowing that he has that
one family member who’d drop everything
for him.
My phone rings, it’s him.
“Baby uyamthola?”
“Yeah, Mabhungu is no longer in the village.
Apparently he packed and left with his wife
yesterday.”
“Where did he go?” I’m confused.
“Nobody knows,” he says.
Now it makes sense why there’s a war;
people are without a king.
“What are you going to do?” I ask.
“I’m going to work, I’m sure he’s safe where
he is.”
“What about the innocent people that are
dying?”
“Ngingenaphi mina baby? How is that any of
my business?”
“You don’t care?” I ask.
“I sympathize with them, the same way I
sympathize with everyone that get killed. I
will order breakfast for you, what do you
want?”
Wow!
“I want donuts,” I say.
“Do you know any baker I can get them
from?”
“No, you look for the baker. I want them
before 10am.”
“Yes Queen!”
^
^
^
My donuts came on time, I’m happy with the
baker, they’re fresh and iced generously. I
keep checking if there’s any update on the
news, just to confirm what people are saying
on Facebook. Another high school pupil was
killed coming from school. Why are grown
men targeting children instead of fighting
their battles man to man? I’m disgusted. It
doesn’t look like there’s an effective law
response; that’s South African police for you.
My phone rings, I grab it fast thinking it’s
Zibulo with a new update. But it’s just Ntoko.
“Why is the door locked? I’m outside.”
“It’s locked because I don’t want visitors.”
“I’m not a visitor, I live here, open!”
A person can’t have privacy in Durban!
I drag myself to the door and open.
Balenciaga jumpsuit? Okay.
“Get in Beyonce,” I say.
She laughs and struts in wearing heels.
“Wow!” I’m stunned.
She’s exactly what hard-core gangster
girlfriends look like.
“Where are you getting all this drip?” I ask.
“I’m dating,” she says.
“Oh shut up! How is he making all this
money?”
“If you weren’t such Judge Judy I would’ve
told you. But I’m here to invite you to the
official opening of Mphankomo Hotel.”
“What? He’s now owning a hotel?” Zamani
keeps throwing surprises left, right and
center. How fast is the process of buying and
registering and opening a hotel in South
Africa?
“Yeah, he purchased the building two years
ago but he didn’t know what to make out of
it. Then I came into his life, he saw life
differently,” she says.
Maybe I’m disregarding all the positive
changes and focusing on what Zamani does
wrong. She’s happier, prettier and more
confident.
“Tell me about this guy,” I say.
She takes a deep breath, “Where do I start?”
“Tell me about his family, what he does in his
life and what kind of a person is he when
he’s not pointing guns,” I say.
First, she puts her Louis Vuitton purse on the
table. Flexing soft life!
“He lies before telling the truth,” she says.
My eyes widen, I didn’t expect that.
“He’s a former womanizer,” she says.
I clap my hands twice. So I’ve been right all
this time.
“We fought one day and he came to my
house the next morning with a puppy. I said I
like pets and he said the puppy was my gift,
he bought it from a ‘puppy shop’. And then
later I found out he had a fight with someone
and decided to kidnap the puppy, until
whatever they were fighting about was
settled.”
I’m cracking up, “What happened to the
puppy-store story?”
“As I’m telling you, he lies first and then tells
the truth. The first thing he says, don’t
believe it, wait until he changes the story,
that’s the truth.”
“How do you deal with that?” I ask, laughing
with tears on my face.
“I love him, things always work out
themselves. He used to give me headache,
he still does, but I’ve come to realize that
nobody is perfect, people have scars from
their past and they try as much as possible
to wear a smile over them. He lost his
parents at a very young age, he
automatically became a father and mother to
his brother. I understand why he’s the way
he is, I can see that he’s trying to become a
better man. When we started dating he said
he was going to stop his shady ways and
earn money legally, and he’s done exactly
that.”
I wipe my teary eyes, my sister is happy. I’ve
been hard on her, I wanted her to find a man
that I don’t have as well; a man with no
flaws.
“I will be there, what’s the theme?” I ask.
“Glitz and glam, anyone who comes looking
ugly will be turned away. His ex-potential-
wife will be there, I need back-up.”
“Potential wife?” I ask.
“They were arranged to be married, he
backed out but ended up fucking her
anyway,” she says.
Every morning I need to thank God that even
though I’m in a relationship with a stubborn
man at least he’s not Zamani Mnyandu. That
one lives his life like a movie character.
^
^
^
MERCY

Mabhungu said he’d send money, the 7th

have passed and she hasn’t heard anything
from him. She’s getting worried because the
last time she saw him she felt like there was
hope, that her babies would grow up with a
present father.
Nomuzi calls her, she constantly checks up
on her.
“Hey baby girl how are you?” she asks.
Mercy sighs heavily, “I’m hanging in there,
I’m still waiting for him to contribute towards
the costs of maternity check-ups.”
“He hasn’t sent the money?”
“Nope, not even a text explaining.”
“Oh my goodness, is he not from the fighting
village?”
“What fighting village?”
“Dunga village, it’s on the news.”
Mercy’s chest dries up immediately.
“That’s his village,” she says shakily.
“I’ve been seeing news updates, the
situation is bad, I hope he’s okay.”
“I need to talk to Mlaba,” Mercy says and
drops the call.
She still hasn’t told Mlaba that she’s
pregnant with his brother’s babies. There is
no appropriate way to tell him but now she’s
left with no choice. She dials his number and
calls.
He answers immediately.
“Hey, umhh, I’ve seen the news,” she says.
“He’s not dead, he left the village before the
war.”
Why is he explaining before she even asks?
Thando, obviously, she can’t keep either her
legs or mouth shut.
She exhales with relief, “Oh, okay thank
you.”
“Is everything okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, I was just worried.”
“No, I’ll let you know if I hear from him.”
“Thanks...I’m really sorry, I didn’t think
things will get this far. I guess I was lonely
and he gave me a glimpse of what I wish
men were.”
“You don’t have to explain, I just want you
and him to be okay in your different worlds
and try to make peace for the babies’ sake.”
“I hope one day we will, thank you for
understanding. But I will kill your girlfriend
for snitching on me,” she says before
dropping the call.
At least he’s okay wherever he is, hopefully
soon he will remember the promises he
made. Not that she’s short of money, him
being supportive would mean a lot.

CHAPTER 37
MABHUNGU

He arrived at his late uncle’s house at the

Buthelezi village two days ago. Today he left
his wife alone for the first time and went to
buy grocery. He didn’t lock her in, he didn’t
know she’d be still here when he comes back
because he hasn’t told her why they had to
pack and come here. These days she does
what Mabhungu wants, be it making a baby
or leaving her life and her job with no
explanation. He’s ruined his chances of them
fixing whatever that was broken, she’s trying
to contact the families, she wants out of this
marriage.
He walks in the bedroom with a gift bag and
puts it next to her.
“I know you love earrings,” he says.
She doesn’t take the gift bag or say
anything.
“I’m happy you’re here with me,” he says.
She turns and looks at the shadow of what
she used to call a husband. What happened
to the caring man she fell in love with?
“You are happy?” she asks with a mocking
tone.
“Whenever I’m with you I’m happy.”
“But it doesn’t show. Tell me Dunga, what is
eating you?”
“I just want to my spend the rest of my life
with you.”
“You cannot lie to me, I’ve known you for
years,” she says.
He keeps quiet.
She’s glaring at him, she’s lost some weight
too.
“What made you want to have a baby?”
“Because I don’t want to lose you,” he says.
“Make it make sense baba, what has brought
us, our marriage, here? I deserve that much
from you, I believe I did a lot for you;
spiritually, mentally and physically. Love me
enough to tell me the truth.”
Veins pulsates on his temple visibly. He’s
sweating, there’s fear in his eyes, he’s
cornered.
“I cheated on you Nolundi,” he says.
There’s a knot sitting below her stomach but
she keeps a brave face and continues looking
at him, demanding answers.
“She got pregnant,” he says.
That’s it.
The end of Nolundi and Mabhungu.
He’s the first to cry; she’s looking at him with
zero emotions. She did expect something
disastrous, but not this. This ends
everything, it destroys all the memories they
built together.
“I’m sorry Nolundi, please don’t leave me, I
don’t know what I will be without you. Say
something, please.” He’s holding her hands,
kneeling in front of her and sobbing like he’s
the one who got betrayed.
“I want a divorce,” she says, swallowing back
hard, not wanting to break down.
“Please mkami, I’m begging you. It was
meant to be innocent fun, I thought she was
preventing or taking the pills in the
mornings. She cannot terminate the
pregnancy, she’s carrying triplets, I’m
scared.” He want her to comfort him? He told
her to tie her tubes, she respected his wishes
and did it because she loved him more than
she loved herself. And now he’s having
babies with another woman?
For the first time in her life she loses control
and allows emotions to get better of her. He
doesn’t fight back, he just shields his face.
She’s crying, pulling his clothes and hitting
him everywhere her hands can reach.
“Ngiyaxolisa mkami,” he keeps saying, he
hasn’t eaten in days, he’s getting weaker
and weaker, but he won’t fight back or stop
her.

She’s in pain, when she gets tired of fighting

she sits on the floor and cries hysterically.
There’s only two of them here, when the
neighbors heard a woman crying they
contacted his aunt, MaButhelezi, who lives
two homesteads away.
MaButhelezi bangs the door, “Mabhungu!”
He’s on the floor, Nolundi is on top of him,
now strangling the life out of him.
Neighbors rush to help MaButhelezi break
the door. They walk into Mabhungu lying on
the floor unconsciously, there’s blood drop
coming out of his nose. Nolundi is standing
with her hands on the hips. MaButhelezi
breaks into tears and asks her sister’s only
son to wake up.
“MaMzotho what did you do to my son?”
The police are called, MaMzotho doesn’t look
shaken,. MaButhelezi is telling everyone who
walks in that MaMzotho has killed her sister’s
child.
^
^
^
ZIBULO

He receives a call from Madlokovu, he’s

hoping for good news.
“Is there any news baba?” he asks.
“He’s in the hospital fighting for his life,
MaMzotho was arrested and released by her
uncle who’s a police officer,” – Madlokovu.
Zibulo’s heart almost stops beating.
“What happened? Which hospital? Is he safe
there?”
“I don’t have all the details mfana wami, go
to his aunt at the Buthelezis, she was there
when it all happened.”
“Okay, thank you very much for letting me
know.”
He’s never cared about him when he had
time to. Mabhungu kept trying, he would
leave everything and come to Durban for
him. He’s been cold-hearted and holding
grudges that Mabhungu had nothing to do
with. Now that he’s at the brink of losing him
he realizes that he needs him. He wants his
daughter to have an uncle, Mercy’s babies to
have a father, and him to have someone he
can call family.
This is the time for him to put his life on hold
and go to the Buthelezis and find out what he
must do and how to do it. He cannot imagine
the pain Mercy will go through if she finds
out about this. He has to do everything in his
power to protect her; she shouldn’t be
stressed in any way. He will go to that
hospital and pay the best doctors to save
Mabhungus life, then he will fight the justice
system if necessary.

He leaves the office and drives to Thando’s

house.
She’s busy but when she sees him walking in
she pushes everything to the side and
smiles.
He leans down for a kiss, she’s beautiful, this
pregnancy makes her glow.
“What made you miss me?” She thinks he’s
just popping in.
He exhales and sits next to her.
“I have to leave town, Mabhungu is in the
hospital fighting for his life, I don’t know
what the wife did to him,” he says.
“Oh my gosh, you think she found out about
Mercy?”
“Obviously, I don’t know what he was
thinking running away from home with her,
the village could’ve easily intervened,” he’s
devastated.
“I’m sorry baby, I hope everything goes well,
be careful.”
He nods, “Thank you, please take care of
Mercy. I will be back in a few days,
Siyabonga will look over at the office, if he
needs help he will call you.”
“Okay, no problem, make sure your phone is
always on.”
He takes out his wallet and gives her a bank
card and its pin.
“This is for you to use,” he says.
“How much do you want me to use?”
“I don’t have financial issues, use the money,
there’s a lot of it there.”
She smiles, “Thank you Baba kaSma.”
He hates the name Smangele, she now
teases him by calling him Baba KaSma since
they’re having a baby girl.
“That’s not my daughter, buy a doll and call
its Sma. Can I ask a favor?”
“Yeah?” Women don’t like being asked for
favors.
“Can I borrow the Range Rover?”
“Hhayi-ke, what are people going to think
when they see me driving my old car? They
will think we broke up.” She simply doesn’t
want to bring his car back.
“You can take the Jeep,” he says.
“They’ll think I have another boyfriend, plus
the Range Rover is for pregnant women.”
“Really baby? If you say so, then it’s okay.”
He kisses her lips.
“I love you,” she says.
He smiles, she loves his car more though.
“I love you too, please walk me out,” he lifts
her off the couch.
^
^
^
MERCY

She comes out of the bathroom getting ready

for work. Her phone beeps, there’s a text
coming in. She checks and it’s Mabhungu at
last. He’s asking for them to meet urgently at
the same BnB. She’s both relieved and
worried because she doesn’t know what he
wants them to discuss. Heck, she didn’t even
know he’d be in Durban, last time she heard
he left the village with his wife. Maybe she
left him and he realized that being there for
his babies is the right thing to do. They
deserve to have a father regardless of how
they came on earth.
Another text;
Don’t tell anyone I’m here, it says.
Maybe he wants it to be unknown because of
the war back in the village. But she has to
tell Thando at least, so that she’ll be on
standby if Siyabonga needs help.
She calls Thando who picks up immediately.
“Babe can you do me a favor and be on
standby for me.”
“Why? I’m pregnant too,”- Thando, always
bringing drama.
“Don’t tell anyone but I’m going to meet up
with Mabhungu at the BnB.”
“Wait, what? When did he get out of the
hospital?”
“He was in the hospital?” Mercy is shocked.
“Yeah, Zibulo is on the way to the village. He
had a fight with his wife at his uncle’s house,
one ended up in the hospital and one was
arrested and released.”
“Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want me to tell
people that he’s here. I will call you and
update you, I’m going there now,” Mercy
says.
“Alright, I will tell Zibulo once you have full
information. I’m sure he’s going to meet his
aunt today to find out what really
happened.”
Mercy hurries to the wardrobe and looks for a
beautiful outfit. She’s not trying to impress
him, she just doesn’t want him to think she’s
knocked down. She takes her time doing
make-up and choosing a weave to go with
her outfit. Yes she’s fat, but she’s still
beautiful.

She drives to the BnB, feeling hopeful and

looking forward to seeing Mabhungu.
Fighting with his wife must’ve brought him to
a certain realization. Maybe things will be
better from now onwards. She texts him
when she’s closer.
He responds; Don’t worry MaMchunu, I’m
here waiting for you.
^
^
^
ZIBULO

Mabhungu was rushed to Stanger Hospital,

he regained his consciousness but suffered
severe strangulation effects. His tongue is
still swollen, he struggles to speak, his vision
is still not clear. Zibulo is here with
MaButhelezi, they’re both devastated. He
looks very thin and pale, it makes sense why
MaMzotho was able to beat him up and pin
him down and strange him, almost to death.
The doctor says a few of his brain cells were
almost injured due to the lack of oxygen to
his brain. He was strangled for over five
minutes.
“My son is not safe here,” MaButhelezi says
with worry.
“What makes you say that Ma?”-Zibulo.
“MaMzotho comes from a family of
policemen, that’s why she was taken to the
police station and released the same day,
they didn’t even question him. Soon her
uncles will be here to finish him off,” she
says.
“You think they will do that?” Zibulo cannot
believe it. Why would they want Mabhungu
dead? He made mistakes but he didn’t harm
his wife physically.
Mabhungu opens his mouth, he’s saying
something to Zibulo but he cannot hear him.
Zibulo goes out and asks for a piece of paper
and pen from one of the nurses. He comes
back and tells Mabhungu to write down what
he’s saying. He’s going to be alright once his
tongue heals.
He writes on the piece of paper; Are my
babies okay?
Zibulo takes out his phone, he’s calling
Mercy so that she can directly speak to him.
But her phone is not going through, she tries
Thando.
“Hey babe, I’m driving,” – Thando.
“Mercy’s phone is off, Mabhungu needs to
speak to her.”
“She’s with Mabhungu at the BnB,” Thando
says.
“What do you mean? Mabhungu is at the
hospital, I’m here with his aunt, he cannot
even speak,” Zibulo says, alarmed.
“Mercy was texted by Mabhungu. I don’t
understand.”
Zibulo turns to MaButhelezi who was at the
scene.
“Where is his phone?” he asks.
“MaMzotho must’ve taken it, we did not see
it,” MaButhelezi says.
“Fuck!” he curses, dropping sweat.
“Zibulo what’s going on?” Thando is
panicking on the other side.
“It’s his wife, call the police right now.”
“I don’t know which BnB,”- Thando.
“They’ll track her car, do something Thando,
now!”
Mabhungu is looking at him, he knows what’s
up, his heart starts racing, he’s having
another anxiety attack.
“Nurse! Nurse!” MaButhelezi yells, she’s sure
that her sister’s child is having a heart attack
and dying.

CHAPTER 38
THANDO ZWANE

I never thought I’d be in this position,

everyone is calling me, they want answers.
Zibulo hasn’t gotten here yet, he’s on his
way. They found Mercy’s car parked at the
BnB and she wasn’t there. The strange thing
is, it wasn’t Nolundi Mzotho who booked for a
stay but a man who doesn’t even have the
Mzotho surname. He’s denying knowing
anyone called Nolundi, he says he was at the
shops and when he came back there was a
strange car parked in. Strange enough the
cameras didn’t catch anything either.
Mabhungu’s phone is not going through, I
don’t have any evidence that indeed Mercy
received a call from his phone.
Siyabonga is driving all over Durban,
searching. There’s a friend called Khetha
who’s flying down from Cape Town. Mercy’s
pictures are already trending on social
networks, it’s now in the public interest. I
don’t know who’s giving people information,
there seems to be an anonymous source
spilling all the beans. Which has left people
divided, others wants her to be found alive
and others says it’s karma for what she did
to the wife.

I’m back at Zibulo’s house after a day of

searching, I feel like my soul has left my
body. I never saw this coming, maybe I
underestimated the wife’s pain; hurt people
hurt people. Mabhungu could’ve found a
better way to tell her, maybe call the families
and break the news. It would’ve been safe
than kidnapping her to an isolated house. He
made things worse, nobody is to be blamed
for how far things have gotten, but
Mabhungu.

There are two cars driving in, Zibulo’s Jeep

and one white BMW. I know a part of him
blames me, he’s been snapping at me on
every phone call. He did ask me to look after
Mercy, but come on, I wasn’t going to tug on
Mercy’s tail everywhere she goes. And who
could’ve seen this coming? We all thought
MaMzotho was just a rural wife, not a pyscho
waiting to be triggered.
It’s him and a guy I assume is Khetha. He
walks to me and hugs me. I can tell from his
eyes, he’s tired.
Khetha greets, “Hello Thandolwethu.”
“Hello Khetha,” he’s a kind of friend Zibulo
would be compatible with. He’s hardly
around, Zibulo likes to have people at the
floating surface of his life.
“Any luck?” I ask them.
“Nothing,” he exhales heavily. “MaButhelezi
keeps calling me, Mabhungu wants to know
where she is, he’s being closely monitored by
nurses because he keeps getting anxiety
attacks. On the other side Madlokovu is
reporting about the piling number of deaths
in the village.”
“Why aren’t the police there?” I ask.
“They cannot end a civil war, it’s not just 10
people fighting. Everyone has chosen a side,
the whole village is fighting and nobody can
solve this except Mabhungu,” he says.
Khetha shakes his head, “All along you didn’t
care to tell us you come from a royal
family?”
“I will show you the room so that you can go
sleep,” Zibulo says, he’s not interested in
explaining.
“Bayede!” Khetha bows mockingly.
Zibulo clicks his tongue and pushes him, they
walk off. He’s not pissed as I thought he was.

I call Ntoko, she’s invested in this as much as

I am.
“I’ve been waiting for your call. Has she been
found?”
“Nope, Zibulo is here, they’ll wake up
tomorrow and look again.”
“I hope she’s safe wherever she is. Do they
have other people looking or they’re just
trusting the police?” she asks.
“It’s just them and the police,” I say.
“That’s dumb, the police could’ve been in
this, is the wife’s uncle not a police officer?
Zibulo needs to wake up,” she says.
Well, none of us thought of that. Can one
police officer have so much power? I believe
they’ll find a lead soon, my only worry is that
I don’t know if she will be still alive.
“I will talk to him, I’m sure he can hire
independent investigators, he’s worried
about his brother,” I say.
“Alright, tell him to let me know if he needs
help.”
I don’t want to laugh, but who is she?
“You think you can help him?” I ask.
“Zamani can, you fight crime with crime to
have an early victory.” Is that my sister? The
deacon’s daughter?
There’s some truth in that though, maybe
they have to search for her dirtily.
---

When I wake up he’s already left, there’s no

one inside the house, I’m all alone. I check
the time and it’s only 7:13 am. I grab the
remote and turn the TV on. I’ve been
following up on the Dunga village civil war,
for some reasons I feel connected to those
people, I wish there was something I could
do.
There’s a young girl who caught a bullet and
died. My stomach turns when they show her
picture, she was only 18 years old.
I take my phone and call Zibulo.
“Babe,” he answers. It sounds like he’s on
the road.
“You need to call Ntoko, she can help with
this. We have another problem,” I say.
“What’s going on?” he asks, panicking.
“Things are out of control in the village,
Mabhungu cannot be there but you can,” I
say.
“Thando what are you on about now?”
“Your people need you, a girl died, she was
only 18 years old.”
“A girl?” He sounds shocked.
“Exactly, they need to be stopped and the
police are failing.” I say and end the call, if
he has any heart he will understand that this
is not the time for his stubbornness.
^
^
^
Another day has passed, Mercy hasn’t been
found, Mabhungu is not recovering. I have
decided to step up instead of waiting for
Zibulo to do things. I called Zamani and
asked if we could meet. Yes, the mighty
judge has fallen.
Ntoko is hosting the meeting at her house,
I’m driving my Mini Cooper today.
Ntoko comes out and asks what I’m driving.
“What is that?” she asks.
“A car that I worked hard for.”
She bursts into laughter, this is exactly what
I was telling Zibulo about when he wanted to
take back the car.
“We did not break up, I missed my car, idiot.
Is Zamani already here?”
“Yes, he’s inside,” she says.
I pull her to the side, “Did you tell him what I
used to say about him?”
“Did you tell me not to tell him?”
“Dick over family?” I’m in disbelief.
She bursts into laughter, “You are a coward
but you talk too much. Come, he doesn’t
have a problem with you not liking him, he’s
waiting for you.”
God bless his soul! I walk in behind Ntoko.
He’s driving beer on the couch. I’m surprised
to actually see him wearing a suit. He’s really
turning his life around.
“Hello,” I say with a wide smile taking a seat
next to Ntoko.
“Hey friend,” he always has a smile on his
face.
Ntoko laughs at ‘friend’. We are actually the
opposite of that, he’s mocking.
“I don’t know if Ntoko told you that one of
my friends went missing.”
“Ummm, she actually did, I’ve seen it all over
social media too. Tell me what exactly
happened,” he says.
I tell him everything, from Mabhungu’s first
trip to them finding out about the pregnancy
and him telling his wife back home to untie
her tubes and leaving the village with her
without telling anyone.
“The BnB owner knows,” he says.
“But he had a different guest, someone who
doesn’t even know the wife and her family,” I
say.
“They’re working together. What your man
needs to do is to find the BnB owner’s family
and hold one member hostage until he
speaks up.”
My eyes widen. “Kidnap a person?”
“Yeah, the owner is a key to all of this.”
“But that’s crime,” I don’t want Zibulo to go
to jail.
“Do you want me to intervene?”
I look at Ntoko, I want to know how she feels.
“You’ll kidnap the person yourself?” she asks
him.
“No sweerie, I will have people doing that for
me. Believe me, tomorrow the friend of my
friend will be found,” he says with no
hesitation.
“Is there no other way?” Ntoko asks, she
wants him to be clean, I understand her
concerns.
“This will be the most effective, let me do
this sweerie, I promise you everything will be
fine,” he says.
“Fine, but Zibulo has to be involved as well.”
“What?” My man cannot be involved in
crime.
“Yeah, it’s his brother’s babymama, not
Tusani’s.”
Wow, I can’t believe she’s doing this to me.
^
^
^
Zibulo comes home late at night, still empty-
handed.
He gets in the shower, I go to the kitchen and
dish up for him.
I walk back to the bedroom and find him
already under the covers.
“Here’s your food,” I say.
“I’m not hungry Thando.”
“You’ve been out the whole day, eat
something.”
“No,” he says, turning to sleep on his
stomach.
“Okay,” I put the plate away.
“So I talked to Ntoko’s boyfriend, he can help
you.”
He turns and looks at me.
“How?” he asks.
“He believes the BnB owner was involved, he
wants you and him to make him talk,” I say.
“How? The owner said he doesn’t know
anything and provided evidence to the police
to support his statement.”
“Just give it a try, he will be there with you.”
“Are we going to do that legally?”
I shake my head in shame. Right now I don’t
care about anything other than getting Mercy
home.

We call Zamani in the morning and ask him

to come over. Zibulo agreed, he’s willing to
risk his freedom and get to the wrong side of
the law for Mercy and his brother’s babies.
I ask for MaButhelezi’s number and call to
find out how Mabhungu is doing at the
hospital.
“I’m Thando Zwane, his brother’s girlfriend, I
just want to know how he’s doing,” I say.
“He’s getting better, he can speak now,” she
says.
That’s good news but she doesn’t sound
relieved.
“Zibulo is going to find Mercy, tell him to hold
on a little more.”
“I don’t know mntanami, his wife came to
see him, she denies having his phone and
texting his side-chick, she says she only
wants a divorce from him.”
“What? When was she there?” I ask.
Zibulo has stopped, he’s looking at me
curiously.
“Yesterday afternoon,” she says.
“I will call you back Ma,” I drop the call and
look at Zibulo with my eyes bulging out.
“MaMzotho was at the hospital yesterday,
she says she doesn’t have Mabhungu’s
phone,” I tell him.
“That doesn’t make sense,” he says taking
out his phone.
“Who are you calling?” I ask.
“Nomuzi, her sister,” he says and takes a few
steps away. He’s telling her what I just told
him. He tells her she must come to Durban
immediately.
There’s a car at the gate, Zamani.
I open and wait for him at the door. Our lead
is dead.
“Hey friend,” he says.
“Hi friend, you’ll be disappointed to know
that the wife went to the hospital, she wants
to divorce and she doesn’t have his phone,
she never took it.”
He frowns, “Really?”
“Yeah, now I’m confused, I don’t know what
to think.”
“If she didn’t take it then someone else took
it and that person knows Mercy, he or she
has a score to settle,” he says.
FBI cases always leave me tired.
“Who could’ve known Mercy at the Buthelezi
village? Nobody knows Mercy there,” I say
hopelessly.
“The ambulance that took him to the
hospital. We need to find out who was in that
ambulance and where they are from,” he
says.
I let out a long sigh, “Come in, you will talk to
Zibulo about this, I’m tired.”

CHAPTER 39
MERCY

She finally gets off bed and goes to the

kitchen, there’s bread and margarine in the
fridge. Today he left the small windows open.
He hasn’t harmed her, the little bond they
used to have helps. She doesn’t know how
long she will be kept here, she had nothing
to do with Nomuzi’s decisions. She changed
ownership of the house and her two cars that
she bought in marriage and transferred it all
to Mercy’s name. It was before Ngobese lost
his job, before he went broke and became
abusive.
Now he wants all of it back to his name. It all
played in his favor when his paramedic
brother stole an unconscious man’s phone
and found her name in his chats, they had
her. It was his brother texting and asking him
that they meet at the BnB, his friend had
booked the previous night, when she got
there she was taken by another car and
brought here. They’re relaxed, it shows that
nobody cares enough to look for her. It’s
been days, nobody has come to her rescue.
How come Nomuzi doesn’t suspect anything?

As she sits down with her buttered bread and

a glass of juice, the door opens. It’s Ngobese,
he looks a bit tipsy.
“Ah Mercedes, uyazitika la!” he says,
laughing.
“It’s just bread and juice,” she’s annoyed.
“Still, uyazitika. I saw on the news that
you’re carrying three babies, only if your
sister had an active womb like you,” he says
and sits on the floor.
“When am I going home Ngobese?” she asks.
“As soon as our divorce is finalized, which is
in a few days, our last court day. Then you
will transfer my things to my name and go
back to your friends,” he says.
“Why am I suffering for the things that my
sister did?”
“Because your sister thinks she’s clever, she
bought that house and those cars with my
money, she gave you ownership because she
knew she’d divorce me and get the most out
of everything.”
“You were beating her and raping her
Ngobese. A lifetime trauma, and you’re
crying for two cars and a house?” she asks.
“She was sleeping around, I’m not a fool,” he
says.
Mercy sighs, this is fruitless.
“Can you get me good food at least? I want
mayonnaise and meat.”
He cracks up and laughs, “Your babydaddy is
recovering, he will buy you all that.”
At least some good news.
^
^
^
MABHUNGU

MaMzotho walks in, it’s visiting hours. She

was here yesterday as well, apologizing for
almost killing him and asking that they
divorce peacefully.
He closes his eyes when she walks in,
MaMzotho puts a bag of fruits on his cabinet
and sits.
“You’re awake Dunga,” she says.
A deep breath, he opens his eyes.
“I need you to sign the papers,” she says.
“I’m not giving you a divorce until you bring
back MaMchunu.”
“I don’t know your MaMchunu, I don’t care
about her, I don’t have time for her,” she
says.
“You want me to believe you? You almost
killed me Nolundi.”
“What about what you have done to me?
Emotional and sexual trauma you put me
through to cover your infidelity,” she asks.
“Take your fruits and go fetch MaMchunu
from where you are keeping her. Until then,
you and I have nothing to talk about,” he
says and turns his back on her.
She sits for a while before leaving.

MaButhelezi arrives shortly after Mamzotho

walked out. She’s staying with an old friend
in Stanger Manor to be close to the hospital.
When she sees Mabhungu awake she smiles.
“I’m so happy to see you getting back to
yourself,” she says.
Mabhungu sighs, “Getting back to myself
Mamncane? If anything happens to those
babies I will never be okay.”
“What changed your mind about having
babies? MaButhelezi asks.
“I did not change my mind, they were not
done on purpose. I did not even date
MaMchunu, we were casual,” he says.
MaButhelezi shakes her head in dismay, she
cannot understand today’s children. “Has
your wife admitted to anything?”
“No, she’s still denying,” he says.
“Maybe she did not have anything to do with
it. How well do you know this MaMchunu?
Maybe she has other enemies,” –
MaButhelezi.
“How did my phone end up in those
enemies? This has Nolundi all over it
Mamncane and I swear if anything happens
to my babies she will pay with all those who
were involved,” he says.
“You should give her the divorce she wants,
there’s no way of fixing this, it got out of
control. I don’t know why you didn’t involve
us when you found out you had made
someone else pregnant. The mistake you
made in the first place was to be the one not
wanting kids but able to make them, and
disable her from making them. This is
unforgivable,” MaButhelezi says. She’s siding
with her son but she cannot ignore the pain
Mamzotho is feeling. As a woman she
understands her anger; she was betrayed.
^
^
^
THANDO ZWANE

We’ve been waiting for Zamani to get back

to us all day. Mercy’s sister is here, so is
Ntoko. Finally, he calls and says he’s at the
gate. I feel like we are running out of time,
chances of finding Mercy alive are slim now. I
don’t want to imagine what that would do to
Mabhungu. More than anything I think his
conscience is killing him; he never wanted
those babies and he did not treat Mercy well
after finding out about the pregnancy.
Zamani is here, we all gather in the lounge.
“Can I have a beer first?” he asks.
Zibulo gets up and goes to get it from the
kitchen.
He starts by taking a few sips before talking.
“I got the name of the man who was in the
ambulance with him. Smayedwa Ngobese,”
he says.
“Smayedwa?” – Nomuzi.
We all look at her. Does she know the
person?
Zamani is looking at her, “Yeah, Smayedwa.
He happens to be friends with Marcus Nkosi
who’s the owner of the BnB and friends with
Khuboni who was a registered guest on the
day Mercy disappeared.”
Nomuzi drops her face in her hands and
starts crying.
I’m confused, we all are, except Zamani.
“He’s your husband’s brother, whom you are
fighting with in court.”
My jaws are on the floor! So all this time
we’ve been praying against the wrong
person and sending the police to harass her
for no reason? I’m disappointed in myself.
Nomuzi gets up, she’s taking her bags.
“Nobody messes with my sister!” she’s still
crying.
“Nomuzi do you know where they could be
keeping her and why?” Zibulo asks getting
up and taking his jacket. Zamani is on his
feet as well, they’re leaving with her.
“I know exactly where he is, bloody leech!”
Zamani kisses Ntoko and grabs his beer and
follows them out.
Now it’s just me and my sister.
I look at her, she sighs and shakes her head.
“I even created a fake Facebook profile to
drag wives who get cheated on and punish
other women,” she says.
“Don’t tell me you are Zoe Que.”
“Yeah, that’s me,” she says.
I don’t know why this is funny because the
only reason I reserved my comments was
because Zibulo, aka Mlaba, was directly
involved. I don’t think there’s a way to come
back from this one, the wife hates everyone
connected to Mabhungu and Mercy right
now.
^
^
^
MERCY

Ngobese bought 5kg of frozen meat and

mayonnaise as she requested. He’s been
drinking again, but he’s not drunk. He’s
sitting next to her, Mercy is devouring her
plate with cold Oros juice next to her. She’s
counting days, once their divorce is finalized
she will do whatever he tells her to do.
Nomuzi has not come, it’s not worth losing
her life over her whereas she doesn’t even
care to try harder looking for her.
“You’re not going to eat?” she asks Ngobese.
He’s quiet for a moment, then he chuckles
and looks at her.
“I never thought I’d be here yazi Mercedes,”
he says in a sober voice.
“Where?” Mercy asks.
“In this situation where I have to fight to
have a mere car and a shelter over my head.
Your sister put me through a lot but nobody
is going to count my scars because I’m a
man,” he says.
“You have scars?” Mercy asks, she’s not
buying it, she was with her sister on the
phone in all those nights that he made her
cry.
“The only time I laid my hand on your sister I
was not drunk. It was a slap, I never used
any weapon or object. I remember the day
and month and year. I found something in
her phone, a conversation between her and
my former employer, it wasn’t an innocent
conversation as it involved my name in it. I
confronted her about it, she started bringing
things that I told her in confidence about my
childhood. Things that a man can only share
with his wife, someone he trusts. We fought,
I slept on the couch. I woke up the next day
and went to work, I knew things weren’t
going to be the same because my employer
was messing with my wife. But I had to make
money and take care of her, she was still my
wife. That was the first day I got ill-treated in
a working place. Everyone knew what had
happened to me, they knew which part of my
body was damaged and how it got damaged.
I was given nick-names, I was placed in the
work station with more workload to reach the
target alone. I got angry, I came back home
and slapped her because she was not sorry
for what she had done.”
“What was it that she told them about you?”
Mercy asks.
He doesn’t answer, instead he continues
telling his story.
“Then I was deprived in the bedroom, she’d
only sleep with me if I was drunk and then
she’d be crying the next morning saying I
raped her. I lost my job Mercedes, I was
called a rapist at work, female employees
were not comfortable around me anymore,”
he says.
“Ngobese, are you trying to deny the abuse
now?”
“No, there’s evidence, I cannot deny it. The
doctor’s report showed that I had slept with
her, she had bruises on her back to prove
that I hit her. Between a drunk husband and
sober wife, who would you believe?”
Mercy thinks for a second and then looks at
him.
“How do you know you didn’t do anything if
you were drunk?” she asks.
“Because the only time I started raping her if
I was drunk was after she linked up with my
employer and successfully transferred assets
that she bought with my money to your
name and I became Mahlathini- a nickname
based on my childhood traumas. She waited
until I was down and out, she knows I cannot
afford a lawyer who can prove that she
bought those assets with our money, not
inheritance, you also know that she had no
inheritance,” he says.
“No, Ngobese!” That’s not her sister, it can’t
be. She would never do that. She started
talking to his employer after he lost his job,
she was trying to get his job back.
“Right now all I want is a house, an old man
like me cannot stay at his young brother’s
house, making him and his girlfriend
uncomfortable. And at least one car to get
me from one point to another so that I can be
able to do my piece jobs,” he says.
“I don’t believe you Ngobese, especially now
after kidnapping me,” Mercy says.
“I’m desperate Mercedes,” he says and tilts
his head back and shuts his eyes. He’s falling
asleep. The rule says always believe the
victim, but why is she feeling like the victim
may have lied. This is her sister he’s talking
about, she took her side right away when she
heard about Ngobese’s abuse. Everyone did,
he was always drunk.

Smayedwa knocks at the door. He’s the one

helping Ngobese keep her here. Mercy wakes
Ngobese up,
“Your brother is at the door.”
Ngobese goes to his secret spot and takes
the keys and opens the door. Smayedwa is
not alone, he’s with two other men and
Nomuzi.
“Where’s my sister wena?” Nomuzi pins
Ngobese against the wall.
Mercy hears the commotion and comes out
of the room. She stands and looks at them.
Nomuzi lets go of Ngobese and runs to her
and squeezes her in a tight hug.
“Did he touch you?” She’s running her hands
on Mercy’s stomach.
“No, he didn’t,” Mercy says, she doesn’t look
like someone who’s here against her will.
“Are you okay?” Zibulo asks, he thinks she’s
drugged.
“I’m good, glad to see that someone finally
noticed I was missing.”
“We haven’t slept this whole week Mercy,”
he says.
They do look exhausted. She doesn’t know
the other man wearing a leather jacket and
puffing a cigarette in front of a pregnant
woman.
“I’m calling the police, you’re going down
wena nja!” Nomuzi points at Ngobese with a
trembling finger.
“Nobody is arresting anyone,” Mercy says.
The man with a cigarette looks at her and
laughs.
“Is it the Stockholm thing?” he asks.
“I want to take a shower and have a burger,
let’s ggo, Mercy says.
They’re shocked. She’s not angry, not even a
little. She was kidnapped for a whole week
for crying out loud!
CHAPTER 40
THANDO ZWANE

After a week of searching and wrongly

accusing people, Mercy was finally found.
And all she wanted as she was being rescued
was a burger. Yes, not the police, a fuckin’
burger. Anyway I’m happy, I can finally sleep
peacefully at night. Our lives can go back to
normal now.
I’m having my last cup of ice-cream and
joining Zibulo in bed. I’m chatting with Ntoko,
we are planning for the hotel opening event.
It’s going to be big, we have to show up in
designer dresses. Setha wants us to pay for
hers, if we don’t she says she’s going to
show up in jeans. Now we are paying for
dating these monied men.
I leave the cup in the sink and go to bed.
Why is this man asleep? What kind of man
sleeps before his girlfriend?
I kiss his lips and slide in next to him. I have
managed to get the money my mother
needed, I’m sure Ntoko is already sorted, all
she had to do was tell Zamani how much. I’m
not sure about Setha, the last time we spoke
she was expecting her order from Shein and
tracking another one from another online
clothing store. I go for another cup of ice-
cream before sleeping.

I wake up in the middle of the night with a

sharp pain on my waist and turn the lights
on. Zibulo is not next to me but his shoes are
where he always put them when climbing on
bed. I panic right away because I know he
would never go anywhere without his shoes,
not even to the bathroom. I call his phone, it
rings next to me. I begin searching for him all
over the house and calling his name. He’s
not here.
I call the security company, I won’t sleep not
knowing where he is. The security car arrives
immediately, they have the CCTV footage.
Zibulo walked out of the gate and
disappeared down the road. He was walking
on his own, he didn’t bump into anyone or
did anything suspicious.
I’m confused, where could he have gone in
the middle of the night, without shoes,
leaving all the cars behind?
I cannot sleep, I stay up the whole night
waiting for him to come back.

In the morning I call Siyabonga and ask if

he’s seen Zibulo. He says no, he’s expecting
him to show up for a meeting. Now I’m
calling everyone, nobody has heard from
him.
Do we have another missing person?
^
^
^
NTOKO ZWANE

My sister just called me, she’s looking for

Zibulo. Does shit ever end? She says he
walked out of the gate, without shoes, in the
middle of the night. I understand why she’s
panicking, anyone who knows Zibulo knows
that he’d never go anywhere without shoes.
Never.
But the problem is, he was leaving on his
own, he even closed the door and gate
before leaving. It looks like he was leaving on
his own will, now the problem is where is he.
A missing person case can only be opened
after a certain number of hours.
But I call Zamani and ask him to keep an
open eye for me. I’m getting ready for work,
I’m late already, I grab my lunch and lock the
house and drive out.
I will grab some fruits at the tuck-shop since I
haven’t done my shopping.

I roll down the window, we create drive-thrus

everywhere, I ask for Abdul to give me two
oranges and today’s newspaper. I’m my
father’s daughter, I always have Isolezwe in
the car.
I pay Abdul and look at the headlines before
driving off. The Dunga Village has made
headlines again, they killed a famous
sangoma by the name of Madlokovu. I’m not
sure if this is the same man Thando went to
see with Zibulo.
I call her right away and ask.
“Have you bought today’s newspaper?”
“Who still buys newspapers? I don’t have
time for news unless they are about Zibulo,”
she says.
I understand, she’s frustrated and anxious.
“His village people killed a sangoma called
Madlokovu. Is it the same one?”
“What? Oh my gosh, when?”
“Last night, two other people died as well.”
“These people won’t stop fighting. I don’t
know how I’m going to get hold of Zibulo, he
needs to know that Madlokovu is no more.”
“Yoh, I don’t ask for his life. I’m driving, we’ll
talk later,” I say and end the call.
^
^
^

MERCY

She had her burger and took a shower, then

she went to check if her babies were still
okay. Nomuzi doesn’t want to hear anything,
she wants Ngobese locked up. She’s getting
impatient with Mercy doing things slow.
She’s still in Durban, she will only return
home once she’s sure that Mercy will open a
cade against Ngobese.
Mercy comes home from Zibulo’s house, he’s
still not home, Thando is dead worried
because he left in the middle of the night
without telling anyone.
Nomuzi ordered some food, she warms it up
when Mercy gets home. She puts
mayonnaise on her plate and calls her to the
lounge.
Mercy comes wearing only a legging and
nothing on top.
“Is it that hot?” Nomuzi asks.
“Yeah, I’m sweating,” she says.
“You know you can’t show your belly button
when you’re pregnant,” Nomuzi says, being a
big sister.
“Even indoors?”- Mercy.
“Indoors is fine, as long as you’re with the
people you’re close to and trust,” she says.
“Talking about trust,” Mercy says and bites
her garlic bread. It needs some mayonnaise.
“What about trust?”- Nomuzi.
“What destroyed trust in your marriage?”
Nomuzi frowns, “Where’s this coming from?
Ngobese was a drunk, that’s where it all
started.”
“No, I’m asking what made him stop trusting
you and what made you stop trusting him?”
Nomuzi takes a deep breath, “That’s very
complicated. I lost trust in him when he
started hitting me and sleeping with me by
force.”
“And what made him stop trusting you?”
“I cannot speak for him,” Nomuzi says.
“Does the name Mahlathini ring a bell to
you?”
She laughs, “That’s his nickname from work.”
“How did it come about?” Mercy, she’s not
laughing.
“I don’t know, that’s what they called him at
his work,” Nomuzi says.
“What exactly happened to him in the
forests? How did they find out about it at his
work?”
Nomuzi gives her a look, “How is this your
business Mercy?”
“Okay, don’t answer. Where do you want him
to live?” Mercy asks.
“He’s got a home,” she says.
“And why are you not giving him one car
from the ones that I own? He was your
husband, we both know you bought them
with his money, you and I had no
inheritance,” Mercy asks.
“Can you prove that?” Now this is the
Nomuzi Ngobese knows, the wife that broke
him.
“You’re not being fair. Where is he going to
get hired, his reputation has been ruined?”
“I don’t care Mercy, he abused me,” she
says.
“Have sympathy Nomuzi, that’s an order!”

CHAPTER 41
THE DUNGA VILLAGE
He was going to have everything he desired;
wealth, successful businesses and a beautiful
woman he loves and wants to spend the rest
of his life with. More than anything he was
going to have peace within himself and start
letting go of all the hatred in his heart, and
slowly become comfortable with opening up.
Then he was going to return to his people, if
MaZwane is the woman for him she will come
after him. If she’s not, he will find another
woman.
It took him two nights to get here; he’s
thirsty, his feet are swollen. It’s early in the
morning, around the same time Mabhungu
left the royal house. When he enters below
the kraal he steps on something. He looks
down and sees a tiny bottle and picks it up.
Inside is his umbilical cord that went missing
a week after he was born. There’s a tree at
the far end of the yard, it grew with him, his
placenta was planted there. How it all came
home is the story only the elders of the royal
house knows.

He stands on the veranda and looks around.

Guns start blazing across the valley; they’re
still at it, fighting and not even sparing
children and women.
The sun goes up, he’s sitting on the veranda,
gunshots have stopped.
An old man makes his way in, he’s crying.
When he comes closer, he stops and wipes
his eyes and looks at Zibulo with disbelief.
“Dunga?” He wasn’t expecting to see the old
king, he was just checking if King Mabhungu
hasn’t thought of coming back to their
rescue.
“I’m Zibulo, his son.”
“You’re home?” The man starts crying again.
He gets down on his knees and starts
praising him.
Zibulo doesn’t stop him, he lets him finish
then he asks. “What brings you here so early
in the morning?”
“People are dying, two days ago they killed
Madlokovu, now it’s Khawula,” the man says.
“I will see them, all the parts involved, before
the sun goes down. Right now I need you to
send someone to get Balungile here, today!”
“Balungile married to another village, it’s
almost an hour away from here,” the man
says.
“Then send a fast young man, I’d appreciate
that mntomkhulu,” he says.
The man nods, “I will do as you say,
bayede!”
^
^
^

THANDO ZWANE

I’m in the bathroom, my phone has rang five

times. I finally get out and check who’s the
persistent caller. It’s different people; both
my sisters, Mercy, Siyabonga and Zamani.
Who do I start with? I call back Mercy first, I
still have the duty to look after her.
“Are you in the house?” she asks.
“Yes, what’s up?”
“Watch the news on 1KZN right now.”
She’s stressing me out right now. Did they
discover a dead body that might belong to
Zibulo? He’s the only person I care about
right now. His news are the only news I want
to hear.
I flip through the channels and catch 1KZN
news in the middle. It’s about The Dunga
Village, it looks like there are peace talks
taking place.
The reporter comes on the screen;
“Izinduna have walked in, right now it looks
like there’s progress, the presence of the
new king has calmed things down a bit. Both
clans, the Mthiyanes and Zumas sent their
representatives, nobody knows what the
outcome of this meeting will be yet, but it’s
promising. This is Zama Ncube, 1KZN news,
reporting live from the Dunga Village.” As
she disappears they show Zibulo’s picture.
My heart almost stops.
What the heck? I don’t understand. I was
okay with him going back home, I
encouraged him to. Why did he have to wake
up in the middle of the night and leave me
pregnant on his bed?
I’m shaking, he’s left me.
What I need right now is my mom.
^
^
^
I drive through the gate, my mom is cleaning
the yard, I feel tears burning my eyes. I park
the car and climb out, my tummy has grown.
Her eyes are on it as I make my way to her
with tears flooding my face.
“Thandoluhle you’re pregnant?” She says
pushing me off and staring at me. “Wait, let
me call your father.”
“Ma, I’m crying in front of you.” Wow, this
woman! Where’s the mother’s warm love?
“Why didn’t you tell me? Did the father leave
you, that’s why you are home crying?”
I’m wasting my tears here.
“He went back to his village without telling
me,” I say.
“Come and show your father,” she pulls my
arm and takes me inside the house. She
wants my father to bite my head off.
My father is fixing the sink, his wife tells him
to turn his head and look at me.
“My princess,” he says wiping his hands. He
hasn’t noticed the tummy.
“She’s pregnant Zwane,” – my mom.
He squints his eyes looking at me. His lips
stretch into a smile, “Hhayi-bo!”
“Why are you smiling baba?”
“Thando is grown MaDludla. How far are
you?”
“Four months now,” I say.
“Why haven’t I seen the father?”
“He’s still dealing with other things but he’s
coming,” I say.
My mom is glaring at him, if it was up to her
she’d be beating both of us up.
“He’s not a church-goer though,” I say before
my dad gets ideas.
He’s not pleased with that.
“Does he respect the world?” he asks.
“Yes, he does. He’s a millionaire,” I say, kind
of bragging to the girl who fell for a deacon.
“He must prove it,” she says.
So she thinks I’m lying about him being a
millionaire. “Why did he leave you then?”
she asks.
“I don’t know, funnily one day I bumped into
a woman who told me he’d leave me one day
and go back to his people,” I say, my
memory suddenly taking me back to that
bathroom encounter.
“What does that mean?” my mom asks.
“It means his return to his village was written
in the stars. Why didn’t I think of this
though?” I’m such a fool.
“Stop dreaming and make me a cup of tea,”-
mom.
“Can I bring my bags in first?” I feel a bit
relieved. I don’t know if he’s going to come
back to his old life, but I know exactly what I
need to do.
CHAPTER 42
MABHUNGU

He’s at the Buthelezis, he was finally

discharged from the hospital. He doesn’t
know Mercy’s number by head, he hasn’t
been able to get a new phone and get in
touch with the people. Yesterday he went to
the Mzothos to try and make peace but he
was turned at the gate. MaMzotho was the
main suspect in Mercy’s disappearance, all
because of him. He didn’t trust her either
when she said she didn’t do it. That was the
last nail, he ended his own marriage, now all
that is left is for him to sign the divorce
papers.
His aunt walks in with a bowl of porridge.
“You look like a skeleton, eat this before I
give you lunch,” she says.
“Thank you Ma.”
She sits next to him, “Have you heard the
news? Your brother returned home.”
“Zibulo?” He didn’t expect this one.
“Yeah, he’s trying to stop the war. Do you
think he’s back for good?”
“I don’t know, hopefully he is. I want to have
a normal life now,” Mabhungu says.
“So you will not return to the royal house?”
“No, I will go and work for my children.”
“You need to make peace with MaMzotho
before you leave, I don’t like how things
ended,” MaButhelezi says.
“She’s not ready for peace-talk yet, but when
she is I will apologize for everything I put her
through.”
“And what’s going to happen to MaMchunu?”
He exhales, “I don’t know Ma, but I’m going
to be there for the babies. I will change my
surname back to Buthelezi so that they can
have that true link of identity.”
MaButhelezi stays quiet for a moment, then
she looks at him. “I was not with your mother
everywhere she went, I cannot be sure of
anything. But before your father, Dunga, she
was seeing a man by the name of Manqoba
Mathe, unfortunately I don’t know where he
was from, I cannot identify him even if I saw
him.”
He’s been wanting at least one clue his
whole life. And MaButhelezi has kept this
information from him this whole time?
“Why are you only telling me now
Mamncane?”
“I’m not saying you’re Mathe’s son, I’m just
telling you where you can start searching,
now that you have left the throne and you
are expecting babies.”
This gives him his first glimpse of hope. He
has to find this Mathe man, or his relatives if
he’s no longer alive.

THANDO

I have packed my bags, my sisters are here

to see me leave. They’re against this, the
war hasn’t ended, there are only peace talks,
they’re worried I might go there and put
myself in danger. I have sat down and
thought about it, I encouraged Zibulo to go
there and talk to the people, even though he
didn’t leave based on my words. I’m going
there; Zibulo is the hill I’m willing to die on.

I packed his clothes and toiletries, laptop and

phone and his wallet. He left everything
behind when he left. I have asked Siyabonga
to keep an eye on Mercy. I don’t think she’s
in any danger now, that kidnapping incident
was a family issue that none of us know how
it ended. Nomuzi has since then returned
back to her house, Mercy refused to open a
case against Ngobese. I don’t ask God for her
heart.
My sisters help me take bags to the car.
“Are you coming back?” Setha asks.
“Of course I am, I just want to be there and
show him my support. Beside, mom would
kill me if I went there and became a village
wife without getting married,” I say.
“What if he chooses to stay there and
become a king?”-Ntoko.
“Then I will become a queen,” I say.
“Seriously Thando, what’s going to happen if
that’s the case?”
I sigh, “I don’t know, we will figure it out. But
on the hotel opening we will definitely be
there.”
“It’s in three weeks, are you aware of that?”
“Yeap, my dress is almost done,” I say.
Setha looks at me, eyes wide.
“What about mine?” she asks.
“I said pay 50% and I will meet you half
way.”
She looks at Ntoko, “You didn’t pay the 50%
for me?”
Wow, so she’s not going to pay anything by
herself. What are we? ATMs.
^
^
^
I asked directions until I got here. I expected
a huge homestead, a palace, but this is just a
home like any other. There are people in the
yard, I don’t know where they are coming
from because only Mabhungu and MaMzotho
have been staying here. I park the car above
the homestead and make my way in with two
of his bags.
There’s an old woman under the veranda
who’s staring at me shamelessly. I’m getting
a bit uncomfortable because I’m not seeing
Zibulo among the people in the yard.
I walk towards the old woman, she’s actually
smiling. I greet and drop the bags on the
floor.
“MaZwane, right?” Oh, he’s already told
them about me.
“Yes,” I nod.
“Let’s go this way,” she leads me to another
house, a rondavel, there’s no one inside.
“Do they know at home that you’re here?”
“Yes, they do,” I say.
“Okay, we will do the right thing. I’m his
aunt,” she says and extends her hand to
shake mine. So she’s the mean aunt who
plotted with her brother to get rid of Zibulo’s
mother and then came back to take
everything away from Mabhungu. I wonder
how they sorted that out, she looks
comfortable here.

She brings me food, like she knew that my

princess is starving. I haven’t seen Zibulo
though, is he suddenly too big to come and
acknowledge me?
I see feet at the door before I see the face.
It’s him walking barefooted, I’m yet to digest
this.
He pulls me up, I’m sitting on the reedmat.
He kisses my lips and hugs me tightly.
“I’m so sorry,” he says.
I exhale in relief and kiss his lips again.
“It’s okay, I’m glad you got here safe.”
“I was scared you wouldn’t come, I’ve been
praying,” he says, smiling.
“Was it important that I come?”
“Yes, it proves that you’re the right one. So
yeah, Zwane must expect his cows soon.”
“Are you proposing?” I’m stunned.
“No, I’m telling you I’m going to marry you.”
“What I don’t want to?”
He smiles, “Yet you are here.”
“Wow, I can’t believe this. So you’re a king
here?”
“No, Mabhungu is still a king. I’m just talking
to the people and calming things down until
he’s ready to take his throne again.”
“You think he’s coming back?”
“Yeah, these are his people. He just needs
some time off, to sort out his life and maybe
find closure about his biological father. Then
he will come back.” He sounds sure, like he
lives inside Mabhungu’s head.
“Then you will come back to Durban?”
“Yes, but we will have our wedding here.”
“You still remember that you have to go to
the Mngomas and acknowledge your
grandfather, right?”
He kisses my lips and smiles.
“I remember, but thanks for reminding me,
mom.”

CHAPTER 43
THREE WEEKS LATER

It’s the official opening of the Mphankomo

Hotel in La Lucia. The event is everything
you expect from Zamani Mnyandu. He’s a
lover of fine things. There’s a red carpet,
media coverage, business moguls and
property owners, including Zibulo Dunga with
his brother and now fiance, Thando Zwane.
The girls came through with their glamorous
gowns, even Setha who once threatened to
show up in jeans, she looks nothing short of
amazing.
Mercy is seated next to old women at the
front, she’s already tired and feeling sleepy.
She wore heels, Ntoko was very strict on
what everyone wears. Those heels are now in
her hands, she’s sitting barefooted. Even
when Donald was performing, an ex-crush of
hers, she couldn’t get up from the chair. Her
tummy is two times bigger than Thando’s,
which is not fair at all.
Someone taps her shoulder behind, she turns
her head, her eyes almost pop out. He’s not
Mabhungu; he wouldn’t age so fast. But the
man looks exactly like him, even when he
gathers what almost looks like a frown.
“Are you alright?” he asks.
Fuck, she’s staring.
She nods, “Yeah, did you tap my shoulder?”
“Yes, I see you’re tired. Must they bring you
something to eat?” He’s talking about the
two girls who are getting off their seats on
the row behind her.
“Yes, please,” she says.
What a kind family!
Now that someone has promised her food
she’s no longer sleepy, she looks at the
stage, Zamani is about to make his speech.
Her food arrives, she’s the only one eating,
people are only having drinks. But who cares.

Zamani makes his way to the stage, he’s

wearing a suit, he gives a little twirl before
grabbing the mic. The crowd goes crazy. He’s
such a bubbly person.
“I’m not going to start talking until my
sweetheart comes and joins me here. Oh
well, and the guy that my parents made to
play with me,” he says.
Ntoko gets up, she’s wearing a long black
gown that sweeps the floor behind her.
Zamani is among those who are whistling as
she walks up. Her curves are shapely
brought out by the dress, it shows her whole
back and cups up her cleavage. She’s
gorgeous with that afro wig on. Tusani walks
up the stage too, he’s also wearing a suit.
Zamani exhales heavily on the mic.
“This is my family, people who pushed for
this to happen. I wouldn’t be here without my
brother, he’s the one behind every sane
decision that I make and that’s not even a
joke.” People choose to laugh.
“Then my sweerie, unlike my brother, she’s
not that patient. She wants actions more
than words. I’ve kind of turned into their
child. Whenever I fuck up, mom reports to
dad and dad confronts me.” He’s pointing at
both of them. People are laughing again, he’s
such a clown.
“So I’d like to thank them for standing here
with me. It means a lot. Then I’d like to thank
this man, specifically. Bab’ Manqoba Mathe,
my father’s friend who’s believed in me and
my bad decisions to date. Stand up baba, let
them see you.”

Zibulo turns and looks at Mabhungu. Is he

having one of those anxiety attacks again?
He shakes his shoulder, Thando turns and
looks at them.
“Are you okay?” Zibulo asks.
“That man, I’m looking for him.”
Zibulo only catches the back of Mathe, he’s
already sitting down.
“Why?” Zibulo asks.
“Mamncane gave me his name. I hope it’s
him.”
“Wait, we will talk to him later,” Zibulo keeps
him on the chair. He looks restless, he’s
sweating and staring at the man’s back.
^
^
MABHUNGU

He doesn’t waste time, as soon as the last

performer takes on the stage he tells Zibulo
he needs to go and say hello to someone.
Luckily Zibulo is busy chatting with Thando,
he doesn’t pay attention.
Mabhungu walks towards Mathe’s chair, he’s
silently praying. He doesn’t need anything
from him, just to know if he’s really a Mathe.
But before he gets closer Mercy turns her
head, their eyes meet and she almost drops
the piece of meat in her hand.
A part of him knew she’d be here, that’s why
he accepted the invite from Thando. But now
that he sees her he’s scared, scared of how
he treated her in the past and talked about
the babies. He promised her money and he
was never able to send it.
“What the hell?” a young woman exclaims,
she’s sitting next to Mathe, staring at
Mabhungu.
He turns his eyes to her and Mathe. There’s
four of them, two girls and one old woman
and Mathe. They’re all looking at him. He’s
looking at Mathe, there’s no doubt that he’s
looking at his father. He’s this man from
head to toe.
“Who are you?” – the woman asks.
“Mabhungu Buthelezi,” he says.
She turns her eyes to Mathe. Mathe looks like
he’s going to faint at any second.
“Can we talk after the event?” Mabhungu
asks him.
He nods, he looks completely flushed.

Mabhungu looks up, Mercy has stood up,

she’s holding her purse. It looks like she’s
leaving, Mabhungu walks away from Mathe’s
table immediately.
He finds her at the parking, looking for
something inside her purse.
“MaMchunu can we talk?”
“About what Mabhungu? When did you get
out of the hospital? You only see the need to
talk now?”
“That’s not true, I wanted to see you in
person rather than calling,” he says.
“What do you want to say Mabhungu, huh?”
“I want to be in the babies’ lives, I know I
gave you a hard time and hurt you. I was not
myself, I was scared, I’ve always been scared
of having children. But now I feel like I’m
close to finding out who I really am,” he says.
She takes a deep breath and asks,
“Was that your father?”
“I hope so,” he says.
“So you only want to be a father after you
have found your biological father?”
“It doesn’t make sense, I know,” he says.
“How do I know that you’re not going to back
out again?” she asks.
“I won’t, I love those three little people
growing inside you,” he says.
“I will see that from your actions,” she says.
He smiles, “Let’s go back inside, I’m not here
to harass you, I will give you my plate of
chicken.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really, let’s go.”
FIVE MONTHS LATER
THANDO ZWANE

My mother asked me to come and wait for

labor at home. I’ve been living between the
village and Durban. Zibulo hasn’t fully
returned to Durban, he only goes if
something really needs him. Many positive
things came out of the opening of Zamani’s
hotel, including Mabhungu uniting with his
biological father for the first time and him
and Mercy sorting things out. The triplets
were born two months ago, they only came
out of the hospital last week. Three boys;
Benzo, Kwanele and Ntathu.
Mercy was disowned by her sister, I don’t
know where things wrong but Nomuzi is no
longer the name we talk about in our circle.
Zamani is a boyfriend known by my parents.
It helped that Ntoko only introduced him
after he opened his hotel. Even though they
still remembered his gun-pointing incident,
they easily forgave him because he proved
that he’s changed.
My lobola was paid, soon after my first trip to
the village. I’m going to have my wedding
early next year back in the village. Zibulo
knew what he was talking about, Mabhungu
returned to the throne after everything was
sorted out. Mercy is there with the babies,
there’s an aunt helping her with them.
I don’t know if Mabhungu and MaMzotho will
ever make peace. Their divorce hasn’t been
finalized yet but Mabhungu finally signed the
papers. I don’t blame her for being angry, I
don’t know what I would’ve done in her
position.

I’m alone with my father tonight, my mother

went to a night prayer with other women.
I haven’t been feeling well for the last two
hours. Maybe I need to rest. I give my father
his food, he’s watching the news.
“I’m going to bed Mangethe,” I tell him.
“Thank you. Why are you going to bed so
early?”
“I’m tired,” I say.
“Okay, don’t forget to turn off the lights
before you sleep.” It’s always the case with
me.
I fell asleep right when I got in bed. When I
wake up there’s a sharp pain on my waist. I
turn the lights on and check the time, it’s
23:39.
I’m due next week but anything is possible.
Do I ignore and sleep or call my father?
No, let me ignore, I don’t want to wake him
up. It could be nothing, just usual pains.
I close my eyes, it becomes intense. I wake
up and sit in the dark, what’s happening? Is
this how contractions feel like?
I stand up and feel like the head has
dropped. I can no longer walk, I start
screaming for my father. Why today when
my mother is not here?
My father is at my door in no time. Now I’m
crying because I can’t walk.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, he’s in his
pyjamas.
“I think I’m giving birth,” I say.
“Hhayi Thandoluhle, are you sure?” I thought
he’d panic, but he’s calm.
“Yes, I’m giving birth now.” I know I have to
open my legs now, just in case the head
comes out.
He’s calling someone, my aunt.
“Flora, my daughter is giving birth, I’m all
alone here,” he says on the phone.
I don’t hear the rest of the call, my father is
running around getting everything Aunt Flora
tells him to take. So I’m giving birth at home
and Aunt Flora is the midwife giving
instructions over the phone.
By the time the ambulance came I already
had my daughter in the arms. I just went to
the hospital for medical check-ups for both
me and my daughter.

My sisters arrive, they’re not carrying any

gifts for my daughter. They’re just here to
stare at us.
“I can’t believe this little girl was brought by
her grandfather home to the world,” Setha
says.
“Were you not scared?” Ntoko asks.
I laugh, “There was no time to be scared, the
baby wanted to come out and Mangethe
wanted both of us alive.”
“You are brave, imagine dad looking at your
vagina at this age,” Setha says.
We laugh, me and her. Ntoko is sulking.
“That’s not funny,” she says.
“Why?” I ask.
“Zamani’s phone was stolen,” she says.
“So what? He will buy another one, he owns
a hotel,” Setha says exactly what I’m
thinking.
“The sex-tape,” she says.
Oh shit! I’m scared on her behalf because if
that tape gets leaked and ends up being
seen by my father she’s going to wish she
was never born.
Setha is laughing, this one has no sympathy.
“The love-making memory installation,” she
says.
Okay, I’m not going to laugh because Ntoko
is about to cry right now, but I remember the
term they came up with for their dirty sex-
tape.

My phone rings, I ask Setha to pass it to me.

It’s Zibulo.
I answer, “Baba kaSma.”
“Don’t you dare Thando. How’s my
daughter?”
I laugh, “She’s fine, you owe my father and
aunt Flora, my special medical team.”
“I know baby, I’m coming there, I just left the
village. I’m coming to see my Azande,” he
says.
“Azande? Okay,” I actually like the name.
“I love you Thando, you changed my life,
without you I’d be still Mlaba with a boring
face, stuck in my past and acting like I’m
not.”
“Don’t mention it baby, you know I love you
and I’d do anything for you. But your face is
still boring.”
He laughs.
I love that he laughs now, his face does
everything a normal person does. It’s been a
year since we said, “till data do us apart”.
We have really come too far.

[The End]