Bonus Content to celebrate ten weeks of The Workplace & Its Employees.

Dear reader

Thank you for keeping your eyes and imagination committed to this blog. I write for your entertainment and I can only hope that I do not disappoint. This bonus special is being posted today and tomorrow just to say thank you for reading. 

Many of you have engaged me on your feelings and reactions on the episodes and it has honestly been amazing to read how each story resonates with you – it kept me committed to writing each day no matter how tired I was. Today, I’d like to hear more about your favourite characters thus far from The Workplace & Its Employees, Season 1. Tell me why these are your favourite characters and how made the story come alive for you. Keep inviting your friends on our journey. 

Let’s get bigger!

For as long as you read, I will continue to write, 

K.

Christmas Morning

Sindi

Moving to Ermelo was one of the best decisions that I have ever made. It is our first Christmas together. Trust me when I say that Sandile and I have done great in keeping the mood and environment festive. We have a huge Christmas tree that is beautifully decorated. Siya has stopped asking about Mthunzi, school holidays and playing around with his cousins keep him occupied. 

Sandile told me that we don’t need Mthunzi and he started being more invested in Siya, positioning himself as his father. He calls Siya “ntwana yami” and for whatever reason, Siya is loving being claimed. I also notice that Siya always wants Sandile’s recognition. He tries harder. He does everything harder. He always wants Sandile to acknowledge him, to tell him he is doing great and to reassure him that he will never reject him the way that Mthunzi has. It took me a while to realize that it’s not that as his mom I’m not enough for him, it’s that being rejected hurts and it makes you feel as if you are lacking somewhere as a person. So he needs a father figure to reassure him that he lacks nothing. He needs a father figure to reassure him that he is enough. I thank my brother for being that for Siya. My Christmas gift and speech will speak to that at Christmas lunch. 

But first, mama, Kgomotso and I are preparing Christmas lunch now that we have fed the kids Christmas breakfast. 

Lydia

Christmas in Venda is best described as hot. Venda is hot. I cannot, for the life of me, get used to this heat. Thomas is not even bothered by the heat. I get that he grew up here so he may be used to it. But how does he live in Gauteng all year and still be unmoved by this weather? I have been living on fridge water and a lot of sunscreen since we got here. 

My mom felt a bit sad that we chose a Christmas in Venda over letting her spend her grandchild’s first Christmas with her. 

My mom needs to relax, stru. She spends more time with Rofhiwa than Thomas and I do. She has appointed herself as Rofhiwa’s au pair and defies me flat when I need my child to be in school and developing with her age mates. Thomas lets her run the show when it comes to Rofhiwa. It will do my mom a lot of good to just spend some time away from my child and actually be my child’s grandmother. 

I am not a Ramaru wife, yet. I am just Tom’s girlfriend. My ticket to his family’s Christmas table is Rofhiwa. I am not even going to lie to myself about my position in Tom’s life. Therefore, I will not over-extend myself with makoti duties. 

It took me forever to pass out last night because it is so damn hot. I cannot even sleep naked anymore because Rofhiwa sleeps between her father and I when we are here in Venda. At home she sleeps alone though, she’s twenty months old now. We let her sleep naked though- just her diaper on. I did not wake up at ungodly hours to prepare for Christmas like all the other Ramaru wives. 

I just finished taking a shower and am dressing up now before I make my way to the veranda where the family is preparing to have Christmas lunch. I hear my child laughing and screaming – she must be with her dad or her cousins. This family loves her. Thomas is obsessed with her. I have a happy family, so I am very happy. 

Zelda

We arrived here last night because I couldn’t get off work any sooner. Thankfully, our shop is closed today, so yesterday when I knocked off, my hubby, myself and my two boys got on the road and made our way to KwaMashu – to a big and beautiful house that Mthunzi bought and extended for his parents. His three brothers are here with their wives and children. His two sisters are also here. One is married and one is unmarried with three kids. The house is full and filled with laughter, teasing and embracing. 

The other makotis, sisters to the brothers, my mother-in-law and I are all in the kitchen cooking lunch and making fatcakes for breakfast. It is very loud here, so I am not sure how anyone is still asleep. The brothers are all up and busy with something. I know Mthunzi, Bafana and Zakhele are braaing meat. There is a lot of meat that has to be braaied. But these men, I’m not even joking, they are drinking so early in the morning and have not had proper breakfast yet. Sihle, the youngest sister who is married and has no kids, finally takes the fatcakes outside to the men. 

Nonhlanhla is the eldest of the five. The second eldest is Zakhele, then it is Mthunzi then comes Bafana and the last born is Sihle.

There is a huge noise coming from outside, so I already know that they are happy that there is food finally being served. We told them to eat cereal like the kids have done, but they wanted to hear none of it. They wanted steak and eggs and and and… we are busy with Christmas lunch so their mom decided that she will make her kids fatcakes. 

She is a very nice lady. She doesn’t hate any of her daughters-in-law and that is very rare. She treats us the same – even the same as her daughters. We all appreciate her. We make sure she enjoys her birthdays and we make sure that we spoil her every mother’s day. 

Now that breakfast is out of the way – 

“Where’s our child?!” Some woman I have never seen barges in and aggressively enquires. She is accompanied by two other women and three elderly men. 

We all look at her because, what the hell? It is Christmas and she is trying to start drama?

“MFUNDO!” She yells. 

Everyone runs into the kitchen, including the men that have been outside. I am looking at her now because she is calling my child. But it hits me, Mfundo doesn’t have the Msomi surname yet. Mthunzi told me his mother passed away. Who are these people? 

Mfundo walks into the kitchen with Thingo close to his chest. 

“Mfundo, we are leaving, right now. Mthunzi has disrespected us for the last time!” The woman. 

“Mfundo, go upstairs. I’ll call you when we are ready for you”, I say. 

Mfundo obeys my instructions and sprints out of the kitchen. 

“And who are you?” The woman charges towards me. 

“This is my wife. Can we sit down and discuss this properly. Please.” Mthunzisays, leading us to the living room. The other family is trying to fight us, but we are not doing this. Not on Christmas. 

We are now seated for this impromptu meeting. It’s myself, my mother-in-law, Mthunzi, Bafana and Zakhele. The other family is also here. 

“It’s Christmas. Can we help you?” Zakhele starts. Zakhele is – how do I put it? Impatient beyond measure. He calls a spade a spade and does not hold back. 

“Our daughter, young and naive, was impregnated by this man. We brought the pregnancy to this very family and Mthunzi has still not paid any damages for that child. We had to sort ourselves out with our child. Mthunzi was in and out of Mfundo’s life, at his convenience may I add.. When my daughter died, he didn’t help us financially with Mfundo and to this day, you still haven’t paid damages for Mfundo. Mfundo left our house saying she’s going to bury hissister, then he phones us and tells us that he will be staying in Gauteng with his father moving forward. Didn’t you think that you should at least talk to us, Mthunzi? Perhaps pay the damages that you still haven’t paid for him? Anything but the disrespect that you have shown us would have been appreciated. Now he lives with you, and this girl we don’t even know is expecting us to answer to her regarding our child?” This woman came here guns blazing. But she has a point. We could have been more respectful in our approach to living with Mfundo.

We are all quiet at the table. 

“We will pay the damages, mama. And we would also like to do all the necessary processes to change his surname.” Zakhele says. 

“Until then, Mfundo is coming with us.” Some man says. 

“That’s not happening. And I seriously advise against you testing me.” Mthunzi. 

“We want our child. Deny him now like you denied him an opportunity to have a father when you were married to that crazy woman who beat up my child because of you.” The angry woman. If Mthunzi never opened up to me about the Kholiwe-and-Sindi showdown, I’d be very confused right now. But I am concluding that the angry woman is Kholiwe’s mother.

“Can I speak?” I say. 

All eyes are on me, but no one responds to my request. 

“Khuluma, mfazi kabhuti”, Zakhele says to me. 

“Ngiyabonga”. Me. 

“I am really sorry about how my husband has acted over the past years towards your family regarding Mfundo. We will fix this the right way and make sure that we are respectful in our approach. Before we head back to Johannesburg, we will have humbled ourselves, apologised accordingly and followed all process to ensure that we take Mfundo the right way.” 

“Mfundo is not your child. You don’t get to say anything regarding this matter.” The woman. 

I see Mthunzi getting angry and wanting to respond to that statement, but I stop him by shaking my head lightly, then I respond for myself. 

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but Mfundo and Mthunzi don’t see it that way. Mfundo is my child. Blood couldn’t make us any closer. But even in the capacity you give me as just a mere guardian, I am still well within my rights to have you arrested should you insist on forcefully taking my child.” 

The family gasps. This woman hates me. Her eyes say it all. Mthunzi and Zakhele are smiling at each other. 

“To be clear, our elders will contact you and we will put a plan in place to ensure that we follow all process to apologise for how this matter was managed in the past, then ensure that we do what’s necessary to do right by your family so Mfundo canbe fully recognized as a Msomi. Now, unless you would like to drop off a gift for Mfundo, please excuse us and have a merry Christmas.” I conclude. 

No one at the table moves. No one. I don’t know what this means. Impatient Zakhele gets up from his seat and leads the other family out saying, “Senizohamba kahle. Siyabonga.” 

Pearl

“Nobantu! The Hadebe family has arrived. Are you and Gcina finished?” My mom is yelling from somewhere. I am still getting my make-up done. My hair lady was late, so that was delayed. Even Gcina wanted a weave today and because she’s my daughter and has to look as hot as I do, I let her be great. But now we are busy with make-up and are not dressed. I told Qaphela to buy us another hour. Why are they here? Also, for someone who judges me so much, Gcina is enjoying the glam-squad privilege. 

I cannot believe I am getting married again, and to Qaphela of all people. Yep, our idea of having a merry Christmas is bringing both our families together to my parents’ house in marriage. His family and mine concluded negotiating my lobola and Gcina’s lobola yesterday. Basically, Gcina is also to have his surname now as well. If we want Gcina to live with us and not my family, he has to pay. A child born outside of a marriage is not encouraged to live with the parent and the new husband or wife. Thankfully, Qaphela is Gcina’s father so the process moved a whole lot smoother. 

Gcina has actually written her exams and now we await the results. She is actually excited that her father and I decided to get married. When we sat her down and told her that we have decided to get married, she didn’t exactly jump for joy, but she wasn’t mad neither. Her exact words to us were “I am excited to hating the both of you from now on”. Qaphela and I decided that this child may have come through us, but she is not of us. 

I was very honest with Qaphela about my inability to have children and how that is one of the many things that ended my marriage to Thomas. Qaphela told me that Gcina has put him off having more children. He guaranteed me that there will be no pressure from him to have children. He said he just wanted us to be together and to be happy. We are both looking forward to Gcina going to UKZN and staying in res should she pass properly. We had to pay a huge sum of money to get her provisionally accepted. At this point, all that girl needs to do is to work hard and get in. We have paid and done our part.

“Nobantu!” 

“Hai bo! I heard you! We are almost done!” I yell back. Gcina thinks this is funny. None of this funny. I hate being rushed. Qaphela is not even supposed to be here. 

I phone him. 

“Mam’Hadebe”, he answers his phone. Could he not have just said Mrs Hadebe?

“Why are you here? I asked you to buy us another. Gcina and I are still preparing and getting ready.” 

“We were already on our way, love.” 

“Now my mother is annoying us and rushing us, Q. Our dresses for the reception are not even here yet.” I complain. 

“But our traditional dresses are here, Nobantu. And we are having umbondo nomgcagco first.” Gcina adds her two-cents. 

“We not talking to you, Gcina.” I say.

“You are being unreasonable. I’m sure the dresses will be here by the time we need to go into our reception. Baba, we will be ready in ten minutes. We just getting dressed now. Our hair and make-up is done.” Gcina. I’m going to slap her. I need to see my reception dress before this day starts. 

“Sthandwa sami, I just want to marry you. I don’t care about these other things. I’m about to see you in isidwaba nesiqholo, making your way to me. I dreamed about this day from the very first day I laid eyes on you. This particular moment kept me strong in prison. I’m going to marry you, Nobantu. Not some dress that hasn’t arrived yet. I love you and I just you to be my wife.” He says. 

I start sobbing. 

“Ngeke, Nobantu! After so much work with your make-up?” 

“Gcina, phuma kimi tu!” 

“Why are you crying?” Qaphela asks me. 

“I’m just so happy. I want today to be perfect.” I say.

“It will be. No matter what Sthandwa Sami, it will be.” He says. 

The singing starts. 

It’s time. 

Gcina and I are only told to come out to be presented to the Hadebe family when the gifting has happened. Now, it is a lot of dancing happening between amabutho wakwaShange and amabutho wakwaHadebe. I am sitting on a grass mat with Gcina next to me. This isidwaba is so heavy. But I have it on and I am covered in beads – no cloth, just beads. Thank God I eat like I care about my body. I have no shame with my tiny waist being exposed right now. My isiqholo is made from cow skin. I am the real makoya! Even Qaphela cannot take his eyes off me. 

The time finally comes when I am asked, in front of everyone that is present, if indeed I love Qaphela and I am not being forced into this marriage to him. I rise from where I am sitting and I have to sing my way to the person who has asked the question – a neutral person from the community who almost serves as an independent witness. I sing and make my way across to him while everyone watching takes pictures, videos and ululates. I put a grass mat at his feet to show that I am agreeing to be Mrs Hadebe out of my own free will. Then Qaphela rises from where he is sitting and traditionally dances out of excitement of the moment. It’s beautiful, honestly. 

I woke up nervous, but now, I am happy. Very happy. 

There is singing and celebrations happening. There is an entire tent pitched and people we have not seen in a million years are all here annoying us. People we have never met want to take pictures with us as if they will not delete these pictures a month from now to make space for some more relevant pictures – however unimportant. 

Christmas lunch

Sindi

Did I mention that Sandile’s hot taxi driver who caught me in lingerie and came to apologise with flowers is here? For whatever reason, Sandile invited a bunch of his employees to have Christmas lunch with us. Don’t these men have families? Why are they having Christmas lunch with their boss and his family? I’d tell you who is hot and who isn’t, but after Mthunzi, I refuse to date an employee ever again. Ever! So, for my standards, Sandile’s is the most attractive of these men and he is my brother, so… 

A figure is standing at our door. He is just standing there, filling the entire frame of the door. My stomach instantly takes a turn for the worst. I am not sure if I am scared or shocked. He is standing there, holding gifts. My eyes have led all eyes to look in the direction of the door and now every person in here is curious as to who this is. Sandile looks at me and tries to guarantee me that he will not do anything to me. Yeah, true. There are a bunch of taxi and truck drivers here. What’s he going to do? 

“I brought a Christmas gift for my son and the mother of my child. Merry Christmas.” He says. 

We are all silent.

“Can we help you?” Kgomotso enquires. 

“Kgomotso, don’t talk to strangers”, Sandile. 

WTF?

“Sindi, can we have a word?” He says. 

“Sindi is not going anywhere with you.” Sandile. 

“It’s the least she can do after she stole all this money for me so the whole lot of you could be this comfortable. Wouldn’t you say, Sindi?” 

I am quiet. 

“I said Sindi is not going anywhere with you.” 

“I can bring in law enforcement into this. She kidnapped my son. She stole from me. She absconded from work.” 

“But you wouldn’t want the police in on the kind of work that you make her do, would you?” Sandile. 

George charges a look at me. I should know better than to go around telling people how I really made my money. 

“Are we talking or we doing this the hard way?” He asks me, finally. 

I stand up and start walking towards him. Sandile stands up and follows me. 

“This conversation is private.” George tells Sandile. 

“This is my sister.” Sandile. 

I want to hear what George has to say because I do have to make sure that my life is not in danger. But I also don’t want to choose George over Sandile in Sandile’s presence, not after what he has done for me and not judged me. 

“Sindi”, George says, as if commanding me to tell Sandile to back off. 

“He stays, George.” I say.

He is not happy, but Sandile is. 

We go to our office at the back of the house. 

“I’m sorry I hit you.” George begins his speech. 

I just look at him. Sandile is leaning against the wall and is just waiting for this conversation to be over. 

“I was not planning on hitting you, now. I just wanted to tell you that I am going to prison. I am looking at twenty-five years minimum. Our organization has been busted. A few people got exposed in government and in a hearing that was held, a lot of details were divulged and it led them to our organization. My property, cars and businesses have all been seized. What’s left is for me to just go turn myself in. I couldn’t do that without talking to you first. You are the only person that I trust.” 

I am just extremely confused as to how all of this got exposed. That organization was airtight. I feel so sorry for him. What is wrong with me? How can I feel sorry for this man after the curse he has been in my life? He ended my marriage. He turned me into an abused prostitute. Now this? We did share a connection. We dated, but not in the conventional way. We have a son together. But still, there is a reason he ran me out of Gauteng. How did he even find me? I guess that’s a stupid question because he has his connections. 

“Since this business started and I was recruited into it, I have been putting money away for retirement. When our son was born, I put that money under your name. I don’t know why I did that. I guess I just trusted you. I am here to ask you to please use that money to take care of our son and to take care of my wife and children. You know everything there is to know about me and I know that if there is anyone who can do this for me and be fair in it, it’s you.” 

Okay, now I’m really emotional. Sandile is annoyed. 

“Why didn’t you leave all that money to your wife? Sindiswa doesn’t need you.” Sandile says.

“If I left it for my wife, she would have never helped Sindi out with Siya. Siya is still my son and I have always taken care of him despite my absence in his life. Sindi might no longer need me, but it’s not fair for her or you to assume the same of my son. Don’t use the money for yourself, whatever. But make sure that Siya gets the best quality of life with that money. And my other kids, of course. It’s enough to sustain you all for thirty years.” George says. 

I take a deep breath. I look at George. He looks at me. We seem to be connecting again. 

“Are you going to be okay?” I ask. 

“You even know the answer to that question. This is where I was always going to end up. It was either this or death. I’m relieved it came to this. It was important that I made sure that you, my wife and my kids would be okay while I was gone though. Chances are that I may never come back, but I’m a man who always has a plan and you all will always be well taken care of. Okay?” 

Why did this just make my panties wet? It must be because I’ve been thirsty and deprived. If Sandile were not here…

“Here are the details of how you can access the money. I’m trusting you, Sindi. Only you. I have to go now. If you ever decide to come visit me, I will be serving my time at the Correctional Centre in the South”, George says. Then he leaves. 

I am holding the paper in my hands and still shaking. 

“You will access that after five years, not now. This idiot might be setting you up and wanting to take you down with him. There is still a lot of heat around him and his case, if what he is saying is true. You don’t know who is waiting for you to access that money. Siyezwana Sindiswa?” Sandile. 

Why didn’t I think of that? I don’t understand. Suddenly my brother is the smarter sibling? Okay, I’m too wet and horny to think right now. George should have had at least one more round of dessert before he went inside to be served by his hand for the rest of his life. 

“I need some air. I’m taking a walk.” I say. 

I leave my brother in the office after he confiscated the piece of paper that George gave to me. 

I am walking and hoping that I will bump into George as I am walking on these streets. A dodgy white VW Golf 5 stops next to me, and indeed it is George. When I see that he is driving, I hop in. I tell him to drive to my salon. He does not debate. 

His top is off and I am just in my lingerie. We came in here and locked so that we wouldn’t be disturbed. We are in one of the massage rooms. His penis is already fighting to come out of the tracksuit pants that he is wearing, poking me in my abdomin. I pull his pants down and he already has his fingers inside of me. 

Oh my goodness. 

I am now turned around and bent onto the massage table, he comes into me from behind. My body in all its glory is having one hell of a moment- moment that is delivering me from all sexual deprivation. I cannot stop the moaning because his penis is hitting all the right spots. We both need this. He is also letting it all out. He is moaning and swearing. 

He slows down his pace then starts planting kisses all over my back. He pulls out and lies on his back on the massage table. Honey, when I take over his body, marking my ownership of his body from this day forward, he has his eyes tight, face tight and teeth clutches together and he holds on to my thighs, trying his best to not cum before me. But I have no mercy on his wish to wait. I have beensexually deprived and hungry since I left GP because of him. Now he comes back and makes me wet like that with just his words. He deserves every thrust that I am providing right now… all of it. Then I cum first and I find myself shaking, slowing it all down. He is still hard. He holds me up against the window. The curtains are closed, thank God. My front is facing the window, pressed against it. With his every thrust, I feel like collapsing. The Ermelo sun is burning my boobs as his penis thrusts deep inside of me, having me scream in moans. He finally has me in a missionary position, seemingly making love to me more than fucking me. We both orgasm together. 

Wow!

“I’m going to take care of them. I promise.” I say as I get dressed and watch him get dressed. 

“I’m sorry about how everything ended up being between us. We could have been magical.” He says. 

“Yeah well. We got what we got. Thank you for always taking care of our son and I.” 

Me smiles at me. 

“Can I ask you for a favour, Sindi?” 

“I’m not sure if that’s fair. After putting it on me like that?” 

We both laugh. 

“Well, you did drill me hard yourself.” 

I smile at him. 

“What favour do you need?” I ask him.

“You don’t have to come see me often throughout the year. I understand. I know that I deserve to walk this journey alone. But on Christmas, every year, please come and spend an hour with me there at the prison?” 

I am dressed up now. I walk to him and wrap my arms around his neck. I kiss him. He kisses me back, caressing my lower back like he always used to do when we were about to make love.

“I can do that for you.” I say. 

I really am the stupid sibling, aren’t I? 

Lydia

Ja no, some people really have thankless jobs. It is Christmas hle bathung. The Ramaru family, all million of us, are on a game drive. From grannies to aunts to cousins to wives to girlfriends to kids – we have occupied six vehicles and are being driven into a bush where we will be enjoying our Christmas lunch. Imagine. These poor game rangers are here entertaining us and showing us the wonders of Limpopo bushes instead of enjoying Christmas with their families. I am usually not one to feel sorry or feel bad for requesting people to do their jobs, but this is not okay. There is something about this that is just not sitting right with me. The Ramarus, on the other hand, are basking in their blessings. They are taking pictures, asking questions, and honestly just getting their money’s worth out of this experience. 

Rofhiwa is fast asleep on my chest. She is exhausted from all that running around and laughing about with her cousins and her father. She got into my arms and passed out so she is seeing none of this game drive. Tom is sitting next to me. I am also feeling a bit sleepy. This heat is something I am struggling to get used to. 

I throw my eyes over to Tom’s phone and a picture grabs me. It is a picture of Pearl and she looks like she is getting married. She is dressed up in isiZulu bridal gear and is smiling. Tom stares at this picture for a very long time. I start feeling uneasy. 

“And then?” I ask him. 

No one hears because people are enjoying the game drive and their conversation with the game rangers. 

Tom acts as if I have just caught him doing something he is not supposed to be doing. I just look away from him and he can just see that he has ruined my day. 

“Baby”, he says with his hand rubbing on my shoulder. 

“Please don’t touch me”, I say. 

He is slightly hurt by this. 

“I am not… this is not… Lydia – 

“Just keep quiet before you piss me off even further.” I say. 

He indeed keeps quiet, but he is certainly uneased. 

We arrive at the spot that is reserved for us to have lunch and it is already set up. Rofhiwa is woken up by movement and the noise of everyone now being in one place. The game rangers are invited to eat with us and they do not say no. 

I try to find a seat away from Thomas, but he keeps finding himself next to me. People are festive. The mood is nice. People are excited and are actually teasing each other and reminiscing. There are also weird vibes because not all the makotis actually like each other. So there are side eyes and upset people, so I am assuming that someone said something in the other vehicles and now it is just tense. 

Also, what happened to all the food that was being cooked in the morning? Or was that just breakfast? 

I miss my parents. I spoke to them in the morning and they briefly spoke to Rofhiwa. Our Christmas was never dramatic. It was normal. We woke up in the morning, said merry Christmas, maybe exchanged gifts if it was a good year, cooked and ate and wore new clothes. After my siblings died, Christmas just became sad. I think mama was looking forward to spending this Christmas with Rofhiwa because this is her happy place since my siblings died. 

Rofhiwa’s second name is Obusitse. She named Rofhiwa Obusitse and calls her Obusitse because she believes that God gave her back all that she lost when my siblings passed away. Next year, she must come with us to Venda to spend Christmas with her granddaughter- if Tom and I are even still together. 

Rofhiwa wiggles her way out of my arms and runs to one of Tom’s brothers who has been pulling faces at her and making her laugh. 

“Can we talk?” Tom says to me when Rofhiwa has run from me. 

Everyone is eating about, so we take a brief walk away from the table. 

“The picture you saw – 

“Why do you have it?”

“It was sent to me?”

“By who?” 

“Pearl sent it to me”

“Why?” 

Silence. 

“Why did Pearl send you that picture, Thomas?” 

“I asked her to.” 

“So the two of you still talk?” 

“Briefly”. 

“Good to know.”

I attempt to walk away then he says, “Lydia”. 

I stop and look at him. 

“I don’t love her. I love you.” 

I walk back to the table where everyone is. 

Kefilwe looks at me. 

“Ushup?” 

I nod my head. 

Her husband walks up to Thomas and now they are chatting about. They keep looking in my direction as they talk. Now Kefilwe is next to me.

“What’s going on?” 

Before I can answer her, a fight breaks out between the two who have been side-eyeing each other since this day started. 

Ja neh, this Christmas is just ghetto. 

Pearl

It is 2pm and our ceremony has started. I am walking down the isle in my Vera Wang cream-white wedding dress and feeling like a million bucks. It is a Hollywood look and I have no veil because I am everything, but pure! 

Gcina is my maid-of-honour and she too is in a Vera Wang dress. Hers is soft-pink. Qaphela looks amazing in a suit. He really does. My mom wanted to give me away to him. But she is not worthy. I would have been okay doing this without her today. I will lead my damn self to my husband.

I am standing in front of him now and I cannot stop crying. I am not one who unleashes waterworks like this. So I know that I am doing the right thing. I just know. I am home now. I am happy. I am safe. I am with the man of my dreams. 

“Nobantu, my beautiful and portable Pearl”, the congregation chuckles as he says this. 

“I am made a complete man today because of you. Because of you, I am a father and because of you, I am now a husband. From the moment that you came into my life, I have never been the same again. And I have always known that I wouldn’t want to be part of this lifetime if I needed to learn again what it is to be without you in my life. You can never be a memory to me, Mrs Hadebe. You are part of me – my past, present and future. You know all of me and you still look at me like I am a miracle. Even in your craziness, Sthandwa Sami, you are breath of fresh air in the humidity of life’s greatest challenges. I am not saying that life will be easy. We both know better than to say things like that. But I know that life will be worth it because I will be doing it with you. I promise to never take this wedding band off that you have gifted me today. It will always be my compass that will lead me back home, no matter the heaviness of our struggles.”

The entire congregation is just blown away. I am just so…

“Qaphela wami, baba wengane yami, myeni wami…”

I cry. I am suddenly overwhelmed. I hate this. 

“I’m sorry.” I say as I keep crying. Gcina gives me tissue and rubs my back. Gcina then gives me water to drink. I take a gulp, wipe my tears then face Qaphela to try again. Only now I notice that he is crying too. He kisses me. 

“Not yet”, the priest says. 

“Sorry”, I say. 

I pull myself together and try again. 

“I am not the easiest person to be with, I’m not. And how you always make it seem easy to love me makes me wonder everyday how to you I can be so amazing and yet to the world, I can be the complete opposite of that. Then I am led to believe that indeed there is a God. Because only He can design and create a man who looks at me and see perfection. He took His time creating you just for me, and the only way I know how to give Him thanks and praise for our family – no matter how imperfect it is – is by loving you, Q wami.” 

I start crying again. 

“Mfundisi, you’ll have to forgive me.” Qaphela says this then kisses me. 

People laugh. The priest doesn’t say anything. 

I take a sip of water again then continue. 

“I am sorry I didn’t wait for you.” I struggle through this sentence and cry. He cries too. 

“I know I hurt you by not waiting and I am so sorry.” I say. Everyone is emotional. 

“I will never be able to make it up to you or take it back, but Q, I promise you that I will do right by you for the rest of my life. I will be the wife that you deserve, loving you and taking care of you until my very last breath here on earth. And when I die, Qaphela, I want to be buried next to you. My love for you and my commitment to you extends beyond death doing us apart. Even in death, I want to be next to you. I will wear your ring everyday as a constant reminder that with everything that we have been through, there is nothing else on this earth that can still come between us.” 

Gcina hugs me. This is a lot. I really underestimated the gravity of this day and this moment in mine and Qaphela’s life. 

We hold hands until the ceremony is over. Then we are finally instructed to kiss each other and we do. It is a kiss from our souls. Both of us are still in tears. And after the kissing, we just hug. We need a moment.

Christmas evening

Zelda

Refiloe and I are having coffee and some scones that have been baked. We just finished cleaning up and washing the dishes. Refiloe is Zakhele’s wife. I am closer to her than I am to Philile. Philile is pregnant, so we didn’t let her get too domesticated with us this Christmas. The Msomi sisters tried to bully her into being a makoti, but Fifi and I got her back. We told her to relax, we got this. Our mother-in-law didn’t get involved. As long as she wasn’t doing anything, the argument had nothing to do with her. 

“How are things at work?” I ask her. She’s a teacher. 

“Preparing matrics for life after high school is generally difficult. However, under this Covid thing, it was difficult and stressful. And we are the lucky ones because we are in private schools. Imagine the public schools.” 

“I can imagine. With all the stuff we need to do for Mfundo, I wonder how public schools are coping”. 

“Girl… and the challenge also happens to be that not all of us educators are equipped to teach digitally or virtually or whatever other terms they use to describe what we need to do now. No one is training us on how to do this. So we just winging it and hoping for the best.” She says. 

“What are some of the strategies working for you?” 

“Zakes is great with teaching me how to operate these things and manage the situation. So I also record myself teaching some of my lessons then I send it to my students to use when doing homework. But I do teach them still, virtually and in classes when they come and attend.” 

I nod my head. 

“And you? Zakes tells me that you managing a beauty bar now”, she says. 

“Yeah. It is very exciting. You should come by when you get a moment and I will personally give you a full spa day to help you relax.” 

“Lord knows I need it. I’m more nervous about these results than my students, I’m sure.” 

“You are one hell of an educator. I know your students did well.” 

“What are you ladies talking about?” Zakhele asks as he walks in with Bafana and Mthunzi. 

“Just how Miss K over here is going to treat me to a full spa day at her beauty bar.” Fifi says. 

“I’m still waiting for my treatment”, Mthunzi says, kissing me.

“That has nothing to do with me. I am getting mine when we land in GP.” 

Everyone laughs. 

“Christmas was nice this year. We didn’t miss Sindi at all.” Fifi says.

Yes, she says things like that. We just let her be.

“Christmas was nice. Thank you all for welcoming me”, I say to make the moment less awkward. 

Everyone smiles.

“Where’s Philile?” Bafana asks. Philile is his wife. Shouldn’t we be asking him this question? 

“I think she’s sleeping”, I say. 

“Okay. Well, we got an invite from some gents to a part happening a couple of streets away. Some popular thug just got married and everyone is turning up. We don’t know the thug, but we are in the mood for a turn up now that the kids and o’lady are asleep”, Bafana. 

“Don’t need to ask me twice, I’m in.” Fifi. 

“You in, baby?” Mthunzi. 

“Yeah. But I need to make sure Mfundo is safe. He promised he’d be back home by 7pm. It is almost 8pm now. I’m worried.” I say. He said he was going out with some friends. 

“Where did he say he was going?” Mthunzi asks me already on his phone, dialling Mfundo. Mfundo knows our rules. He always has a phone on him so that he always remains contactable. 

“He said he was hanging out with friends”, I say.

“Where are you?” Mthunzi aggressively asks over the phone. 

…

“Come back.”

…

“Your mom is stressed and worried about you. Come back.” 

…

“You shouldn’t have promised to come back at seven. Koena expected you back at seven because you promised you would be back by seven.” 

…

“Don’t tell me about your girlfriend. I’m your father. You should have enough game to soften her up and come back home, now. You’ll see her tomorrow.” 

“Excuse me?” Me. 

Everyone giggles. 

“I want you back in minutes. Uzohlaba kusasa”, Mthunzi.

“Mthunzi!” Me. I’m on my feet now, grabbing the phone from his ear. 

“Mfundo”

“Mah”

“Boy, where are you? I’m worried about you.”

“Sorry mah. I’m with my girlfriend.”

“When did you find a girlfriend in KwaMashu? We only got here last night.” 

“It’s a long story, mah.” He says giggling. 

“Mfundo, this is not funny. I’m worried about you. Why didn’t you at least text me and tell me that you coming back later? I would have never said no.”

“I’m sorry, mama. I really lost track of time.” 

“Is your phone charged?” 

“It’s on sixty percent and I have a power bank, mah”. 

“Every hour, Mfundo, I want an update that you are okay. You miss an hour by a minute, I’m phoning the police and we dragging you back home. You know I’ll do it, so don’t test me. Siyezwana?”

“Yes mom. Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too, boy. Shup.” 

I hang up and look at Mthunzi. 

“Really?” 

Everyone is in stitches while Mthunzi smothers me with kisses and hugs. 

… 

This is so much fun. My husband is a real kasi man, stru. Durban is so lit. Fifi and I are sitting on the bottom part of Zakhele’s car boot as it is opened. Our men are standing opposite us ,so we are forming a mini circle. Between us are two buckets filled with ice and alcohol. Fifi and I are sharing Ice Tropez drinks. We are loving them. There are beers galore shared between Bafana, Zakhele and Mthunzi. 

“Pearl, oh my goodness, it’s so good to see you.” Mthunzi says to a woman I know is friends with Sindi. I’ve seen her before. 

“Kunjani? I haven’t seen you in so long”, she says. 

“I know right. Now I bump into you at parties of people we don’t know.” 

“What do you mean people you don’t know?” She says, laughing. 

“Hello baby. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Some guy says as he wraps his arms around this lady’s waist, planting kisses on her too.

“Well, you found me. This is Mthunzi. We used to work together in Gauteng. Mthunzi, this is my husband, Qaphela. We just got married. This party is ours.” Pearl says. 

“Oh shit! Congratulations.” Mthunzi says. Then Bafana and Zakhele join in the handshakes and congratulations. So Pearl married a thug? 

“This is my wife, Koena.” Mthunzi introduces me.

We’ve met. 

“Isn’t this Sindi’s maid?” Pearl says. 

“And isn’t your husband a thug?” I say. 

Everyone stares at me. 

“Excuse me?” Pearl. 

“I was never Sindi’s maid. Domestic work is what I did, it wasn’t who I was. What I am, right now in this moment, is Mthunzi’s wife. Sindi is irrelevant. Don’t come here and disrespect me just because you and your friend used to gossip about me while your husbands were busy divorcing you”, I say. 

“Ela – 

“Please excuse me, my son is calling me”, I say as I pick up Mfundo’s call. 

Pearl

This cow! This bitch! Who does she think she is? My blood is BOILING! I have lost interest in my own damn party! I look at Mthunzi who has now walked off to follow her wherever she went to answer the call from her son. What son? And why did Mthunzi marry her. The people left here are looking at me as if anticipating my next move. I’m beyond humiliated. 

Fuck! 

Qaphela pulls me away from this crowd and we find a quiet place in his car that we drove here in.

“Are you okay?” He asks me. 

I look at him, breathing heavily. 

“Baby, you need to calm down. We are supposed to be having fun. Forget about that girl. She is irrelevant.” He says. 

“How dare she talks to me like that. Who does she think she is?” 

“I’m sorry babe. But you do need to calm down. It’s our wedding night for crying out loud.” He says. 

He is right. We have shut down a few township streets to celebrate us. Who needs to pay millions for a white wedding? 

This man though… 

He is under my dress and going down on me. He slides two fingers inside of me, hitting my g-spot so beautifully and getting moans out of me. I start touching myself, rubbing my erect and aching nipples as he uses his tongue and teeth to massage my clitoris. 

“But Qaphela, now I want to go home.” I moan and say. 

“I am glad you are feeling something other than anger. Now come on, come grind on me on a dance floor.” 

We get out the car and enjoy what’s left of Christmas and our wedding day.