“You know your boyfriend is a loser, right?” 

“He is not my boyfriend, he is my husband. Have some respect.” 

“That’s even worse. How do you have a husband and still need to work just to be comfortable. He has to be a provider. That’s what we do as men – we provide. If you have to provide for yourself, what is he doing?” 

“These are not the times of the bible. We believe in helping each other out.” 

“Does that really make you happy though? Like, as a woman, are you genuinely happy in a marriage that requires you to be a man because your man cannot handle taking care of you?” 

Nothile doesn’t answer Phendu. The rest of us are laughing. 

“I didn’t think so. It’s a good thing you not popping babies for him. He is not worthy. Uyafana nje wena noZama. You are as good as unmarried.” 

“Voetsek Phendulile! Fuck off!” That would be Zama. 

“Yho! A whole deputy jesus says such ugly things out of her holy mouth? Ayifani nawe leyo nkulumo, sisi.” I say.

And this results to the moment being draped in laughter. 

My parents have been waiting for this day since I became a man and able to have children, especially my mother. She has always thought that I’m the whore of all her children. She always says things like “Zithulele, you need to get married to have a woman tame you. I fear a squad of children littered all over the township that belong to you.” 

I don’t know what gave her the vibe that I’m that kind of man. I’m a great guy to be around and I’ve been told multiple times that I’m a charming motherfucker. But my dick is not on display for the world to orgasm. I love the ladies and the ladies do love me, but I do not plan to have children come from that. 

So today, I have brought her she who my mother declared should tame me. She is pregnant – the first woman that I have impregnated, but I am marrying her. Her name is Nobuhle and I like her enough to spend the rest of my life with her. It’s love. That’s what they call it. That’s what they called it when my two older brothers married their beautiful wives before repeatedly impregnating them. I guess that’s the next step for Nobuhle and me – bringing babies upon babies into this world. 

My brothers and I are sitting on top of the fence outside my parents’ house. We are talking nonsense as per usual, while our better halves compete in being the best makoti for our mother. My mother is meeting Nobuhle for the first time today, so Nobuhle is going into the battle ground today alert and trying harder than everyone else. Our sisters are out here with us. I haven’t figured out how my sisters feel about their sisters-in-law. My sisters are not exactly the type that will unleash drama on the poor girls, but they have their sly ways of showing them that they are family through marriage and they can leave this family as quickly as they came in. I have figured that Nothile doesn’t like Buhle though. I am closer to her than I am with my other siblings. She is cool and she is actually my friend. She is three years older than me and I come after her – I am the last born. Zama is the eldest of all our siblings and she is just uptight. I don’t understand why. She just walks around like she has a stick stuck up her ass and she demands to be respected by all of us. So ja, she’s close with our mom and judges the rest of us. I have two brothers that come after her, Jabu and Phendu. They are both married. Nothile is married as well. And I am about to get married. Zama is unmarried and has no children. No one has ever been good enough for her – including the pastor at that church she devotes her life to. 

“Zithulele, is Buhle allergic to anything?” Zama asks me. 

I shake my head and say, “Not as far as I know. But you can ask her.” 

“But, she’s about to be your wife. How do you not know what kind of food can potentially kill her?” Zama says. 

I look at her because really, what the hell?! 

“Awukahle Zama, it’s not that serious. I’ll ask her ke if it’s that important.” Nothile comes to my rescue. 

“Thule should know. This is his wife. Manje we need to dish up and – 

“Yho, I’ll just ask her. Fuck!”

“Hey babe. You’ve been sitting out here this whole time. Are you coming back into the house?” Buhle asks me. I have no idea where she came from. But Nothile has officially walked away and Zama is looking at us as if we have made the biggest mistake of our lives. 

“I’m good. We are all just sitting here and talking. What are you guys doing in there?” 

“We were helping mah make lunch. I’ve come out here to call you.” 

I climb off the fence as my brothers also climb off. Their women had also come to call them. We walk into the house. 

We are fifteen minutes into our lunch and loud conversation at the table when we hear protesting. 

I am the first to get up and look outside the window to see what is going on. The mob that is protesting is making their way to our house. I think my parents’ sins are about to catch up with us. 

When I make my way to the table to tell the family that…

“Thathani! Hambani! Run as fast as you can and don’t look back. They’ve come for me and unless I surrender, they’ll keep coming for me and putting your lives at risk.” My dad says. 

He gives each of us a bag as he pushes us out of the back door. 

We are all trying to figure this out and negotiate with my dad to run with us, but he yells at us and pushes us out of the house. ALL OF US. The protestors are close now. The singing is louder. My dad’s panic is becoming aggressive. 

We have been running for close to thirty minutes now with bags over our shoulders and panic fused within the adrenaline. We stop running when we reach an Engen petrol station and catch our breath. We look around, more so to check if each of us are here and in one piece. We also want to open these bags that our father gave to us to run with. We open them and find stacks of money and a few bank cards in each bag. My dad knew this day was coming and he…

“Where’s Buhle and mah?” Phendu asks. 

Where the hell is my pregnant fiancé and my mother? 

Nothile shakes her head as she looks at me. 

“We have to go back”. I say. 

“Are you crazy? Did you not see the weapons in the hands of that mob?” Zama. 

“Nobuhle is pregnant with my child! I am not leaving without her!” I am panicking and I am hurting. I am even crying. 

“We are not going back, Thule. She’s probably dead by now.” Nothile says. 

My brothers hold their wives tighter. 

This cannot be happening. 

“I’m going back”, I say and start walking. Phendu and Jabu stop me, grabbing me and pulling me into a hug while I cry my soul out. They are crying with me. 

Have I really just lost my wife and child?

…

SIX YEARS LATER…

It is my first day back at university and today, I am entering Tholoana Kingdom University as a BCom Information Systems Honours student. I am definitely excited. Girls like me generally never make it out of a bad place. I was born in poverty, grew up in an abusive shack that had to accommodate my family, which was a family of five. Most girls in my community prostitute their way out of where we are from or make the decision to birth more children who will struggle like we did then die in that poverty. I am one of the blessed few who always found herself in the face of opportunity and that is literally how I am still climbing out of my poverty. If you ever wondered about the validity of Malcolm Gladwell’s theory in The Outliers, my life is exactly it. I went from being a girl who was born in and grew up in Tholoana Kingdom’s informal settlements. Today, I am one of the few graduates who is now working towards an Honours degree. I have a lot to be thankful for. 

The Honours class is usually small because between first year and now, people have either been left behind to repeat a year, chose a different stream, became too profound to continue with education or changed courses and majors. Naturally, you will get to know everyone in your Honours class because it is a lot smaller and for some reason, people start becoming deep and claiming that we are all family. I am not the sentimental type so my family still remains my mom, my dad, and my brothers. 

I am happy that the royal house continued to pay for my fees. I am on the royal house bursary and I have been on it since first year. 

I qualified for it because in matric, I got ten distinctions. The minimum requirement is four distinctions. Furthermore, my mother works as a servant in the royal house and my father works in the mines. We live in a shack in the famous informal settlement that the government is forever threatening to bulldoze. I strongly wish that they hold out until I can afford to get my parents a decent house. I have two older brothers who also work in the mines with my dad. They did not even finish their matric, so their options were very limited. I still don’t know why finishing their matric was never a priority, but I suppose I can guess: We have just never had enough cashflow in the house to sustain all five of us. They made the sacrifice so that I could be the one who got the first of everything that will get my family out of this position that they have brought my siblings and me in. I know they do their best, therefore I understand how important it is for me to do my part. I do not have the luxury of choosing not to study. 

I am the first in my house: the first daughter after two boys, the first person to matriculate, the first person to graduate, and the first person to enter the doors of an honours degree classroom. I plan to keep making my parents and my brothers extremely proud of me. I am standing this tall because I am standing on the shoulders of their hard work and sacrifice. 

None of my friends made it to honours with me. Both of them are still pushing through second year. They had different priorities and I, on the other hand, have very little room to mess up or place boys before books. 

My mom lives at the royal house. All servants do. She comes home on weekends. My dad lives with my brothers in our shack. I stay in res. My bursary covers fees, textbooks, accommodation and spending money for groceries, toiletries and other essentials. So I live. This year, I am in a postgraduate res and I love it. I have my own kitchen, bathroom and room. It feels like a bachelor pad. But my aim is to not get excluded. 

“Welcome honours students”, the lecturer begins. While I zoom into what he says after that, the guy next to me bumps my arm and whispers, “please lend me your pen. I need to sign the register”. 

I do not even look at him, I just give him a pen and focus my attention on the lecturer. He bumps me again and whispers, “Thank you”. 

I nod my head and accept my pen back. I do not want to chit chat. 

The lecturer is now asking all fifteen of us to introduce ourselves. I do not hear half of the names because this guy next to me will not stop talking. I need to find a new place to sit tomorrow. He is going to irritate me, I can just see it. He is probably one of those naturally smart students who do not pay attention but gets eighty percent for everything. Some of us actually have to study and these special inconsiderate students must allow. 

It is his turn now and he says, with a twang wrapped around his tongue: 

“Hi class. I am Zithulele Khuzwayo. I am from a big township in South Africa, Gauteng, called Soweto – Meadowlands to be specific.” 

The lecturer takes an interest in him. We don’t have many of those around here. 

“Wow, Soweto huh? What made you decide to come study in Tholoana Kingdom?” She asks. It is a good question because those of us from Tholoana Kingdom are not exactly lining up at UJ for admission. The class has also taken an interest. 

“My family and I moved up here, so this is like the best university here. It was either this or the one in the village and I don’t think the village girls would have done it for me.” He says. 

The class chuckles. I find it interesting that people find these types of people funny. I am sitting here thinking, “What the hell?” 

“Have you been here since first year?” The lecturer asks. Why is he so interested in this clown? For what?

“Yes. I’ve always been in the same class as Moringa over here”, he says as he points at me. I’m annoyed. 

“My name is not Moringa”, I sharply say. 

Now the class is in stitches. 

“Yeah I know. But I remember you once came to class sick in second year. I told you I’d take you to the doctor and you said Moringa would cure you. So I remembered you as Moringa’s biggest promoter”, he says. He is smiling at me. 

I’m so annoyed. The class is in stitches. 

After Prof.Matthews calms the class down, he finally asks me what my name is. I am sceptical to share because people will not remember it anyway. I will most likely be remembered as Moringa. 

“My name is Letlali Thokoane. People call me Tlali for short. Don’t even think about calling me Moringa”, I say.

The class laughs. 

I was really excited today. I’m beginning to feel like I might not like my honours year.

…

I am in my room going through the introductory chapters we went through today and I start the tutorials that we have been given. We have three to do for next week and they are pretty easy. I want to get them out of the way before I phone mama. 

I bought mama a Kicka 5 and I bought a Samsung J7 for myself. It is the nicest phone that I have ever had. At least now we can chat on WhatsApp. Papa bought himself and my brother, the second born – Atisang, a phone. They are both Mobicels. My eldest brother, Reitumetsi, has a girlfriend who honestly buys him everything. She is an attorney. She is that girl who just wants a man in her life and he must match her. She is even willing to pay for it. She buys my brother clothes, his iPhones and even a car. Lol. At some point, my mom and I gossiped that Reitumetsi is probably stealing now. Who buys a man a car? A whole car? A VW Polo. Well, at least my dad, Atisang and Reitumetsi drive together to work instead of getting taxis. Plus, my mom and I heard that she buys them groceries and sometimes takeouts. My mother and I have no desire to meet this very desperate girl. 

My phone rings. It is Catherine. 

“Friend.” I answer my phone. 

“Hey babe. We are at the gate of the postgraduate res. Please give us a code to come in”, she says. 

She is probably with Debra. These are my two friends that are still in second year. What do they want? I need to work. 

“Okay”, I say. 

I text her a code. 

I take a picture of my tutorials and pack my books away. I have one couch in here and this is exactly where we will sit. No one on my bed. I place my school bag on my bed, I spread my textbooks on the bed and some notes I got today. I open the door. 

I hear a car park outside the parking place reserved for me. Neither of them have cars. 

They walk in with three guys. 

“This place is nice. I think we will be frequent here”, Debra says. 

No they won’t. 

Catherine hugs me and says hi.

“Friend, we bought you this dress. We are going to Club Q tonight. The line-up is insane and it is a welcome back party for all students”, Debra says. 

The guys are sitting on my couch. Debra and Catherine are sitting on my kitchen stools. If they took their school work as seriously as they took partying, they’d be in honours with me. 

“Please don’t tell us about school work. It’s only the first day”, Catherine. 

“Can we have a drink while we wait for you?” One of the guys say.

“No, I’ll be quick. You can get the car started.” I say. I’m really fast.

I go into my bathroom and lock the door. I change into this dress that Debra gave me. I let my passion-twist braids hang and I apply my make-up well enough to look like a model. I have nice heels to go with this dress. My nails are freshly painted. 

I walk out and my place is empty. People are outside waiting for me by the car they came in. How are we all going to fit into that car? It’s smaller than the Polo that my brother’s girlfriend bought for him. 

I wear my heels, close my curtains and lock up my place. I am told to sit in the front seat. Okay. Debra is sitting on top of a guy. I assume that’s her date because he is busy fingering her. I can smell the fish and hear the moans. They are sitting right behind me. Catherine is sitting next to the other guy. She then says, as we drive out, “Tlali, the guy you are sitting next to is Derrick. He likes you.” 

I just look at Derrick. He is a Derrick shame, and this is apparently his car. 

Catherine keeps smiling at me as if this is supposed to mean something. I want to be home and use the free Wi-Fi to watch series on my laptop (sponsored by the royal house) while I do my work.

It’s tough to lose people in your life and be expected to just forget because, well, you are a man and men heal and move on from situations. There is an expectation of men being half human and half robotic. So, we move. 

My siblings and I ended up in Tholoana Kingdom six years ago and managed to buy a family house where we would stay until we had a plan. Jabu and his wife, Siza, bought the house because they insisted that they want to keep the house once the rest of us had moved out. We helped furnish it and make it homey, but Siza drove us crazy and we were more than happy to leave when the time permitted. 

I wanted options. I wanted to be a regular guy who had options. When we left Soweto, I was a student. And I wasn’t ready to hit the labour market. But, there was no time for that. We had to be men so that our sisters and wives could be the ones who had the options. Us men – our roles are clear really. We provide. That’s it. 

So, my brothers and I started hustling in Tholoana Kingdom. We made money, but not a lot. I cannot begin to tell you how grateful we are for all the money our father gave to us when he demanded that we run as fast we could.

When we stumbled upon marked territory of hustling, we met the Mohale twins who are strong custodians and reliable deacons of the church. I was introduced to Shaka Maphumulo, a legendary club owner and businessman, and upon his mentorship and guidance (nice way of saying that I had to be his bitch), I could open a few clubs. I know these people do illegal things and my clubs across Tholoana Kingdom are an office of some sort for their illegal shit. But, I get paid to make legal money so they can launder the illegal money through my clubs and that’s what I’m sticking to. Jabu and Phendu are definitely involved in the illegal stuff and I worry, especially about Phendu, because he likes things, but has no heart. I have heart, but I just want normal. I just want to be my age and do what people my age do. I want to be a regular twenty-nine year old and not feel like an old man by the time I’m thirty-five because the illegal world showed me flames. 

So after I got settled into having a club and getting an executive apartment two years into living in Tholoana Kingdom, I decided to go back to school and further my studies. Today, I’m an honours degree student and I’m proud that I actually saw this through. 

I remember so vividly the day I first landed my eyes on Moringa. 

It was my first day at the university. I was at the student bureau finishing off some last minute admin and collecting my student cards and all that. She was there working and helping me. She was working at the student bureau offices at the time. Her name tag read “Letlali Thokoane” and she was such a nice assistant. She had a beautiful smile. I played dumb so that she could walk me to the computer labs and help me set up my timetable as well. We spoke and I realised that she is a cool person. 

I spent days after that searching for her on social media. She does not post a lot, but from what she had posted, she is a simple girl who has a family that loves her and a family that she loves. She has friends and takes school very seriously. No posts of love lives here, so I started paying attention to her. We attended quite a few classes together throughout our undergraduate years, but she has never recognised me. She has this thing about her that makes her seem to be better than everyone else. That energy oozes off her in general. But I’m still interested. I’ve always been interested. And today in our first day in the honours class, she recognised me. She knows who I am now and she looks at me now. 

I have to prepare for tonight’s welcome back party at the club. I am busy with the staff when Shaka and Mohato walk into the club. I already know that they want to talk business. Ona and Khotso are with them, dressed in black and looking like we are about to go into an operation. I don’t get involved in the illegal shit, but they don’t shut me out of it. Sometimes, I drive them to their places and sometimes I’m just there should shit go wrong, I’m the one who has to make sure that the escape plan is in place and everyone gets out. I am Legoaafter all. 

I leave my staff and make my way to the office, following these four men in. I didn’t realise that Pule was here as well. I never understand this one. Sometimes he’s there and sometimes he’s not. When he’s around, he’s weird. He doesn’t make it a secret that he doesn’t fuck with Mohato. I just don’t understand why he still hangs around him. It must be the money. 

“We have a problem.” Shaka says. Mohato is on a chair. 

“Okay?” Me.

“One of the priests have been arrested and he seems to be turning. He is leading the cops to this club tonight. We cannot have that. We have serious shipment moving from here tonight and it cannot be postponed.” Shaka explains. 

“The shipment is both drugs and girls.” Ona adds. He is the ruthless of the twins. 

“So what do you need from me?” I ask. 

“We going to end the priest. You need to make sure we come out clean. Ona and Khotso will execute. Pule will be on the inside to make sure that the execution is successful and nothing points back to us. Bishop and I will wait in this office for you to return. I want it clean. We have our church on the inside that will give you all the access that you need.” Mohato, aka pope, explains. 

I am driving, no questions asked. Ona is sitting in the front seat next to me while Khotso is chatting up his girlfriend in the backseat. As to why Pule got dragged into this, is beyond me. This is not his cup of tea. 

“We will have stock tonight. Thebe is organising for us.” Ona says. 

“Isn’t that motherfucker in Gomora?” 

“He’s in the kingdom today and he has brought proper stock.” 

“And Thato? She’s not coming through? What about Dise?” 

Thato is Ona’s girlfriend. Only she knows why she is still with this guy. Regodise, whom we call Dise, is the one that Ona truly loves. But Dise is a bit like Moringa. She is a good girl and she doesn’t fuck with nonsense. Ona is nonsense personified. But when shit gets real and he needs a hug, Dise is the one he calls. When he plans holidays and spontaneous romantic shit, Dise is on the receiving end. Dise is also the girl who will block Ona’s number and Ona will go break-in at her res just to apologise for things he doesn’t even know he did. Dise is the only person that can shit on Ona and Ona will just take it then say sorry. She will still block him and he will still spend money and time trying to apologise. He loves her. We all know that the day Ona tells us that he is getting married, the bride will be Regodise, not Thato.  

“Thato broke up with me this morning. I don’t know what I did this time, but I’m always doing something that she is not prepared to put up with. So I’ll go beg her day after tomorrow. Tonight, I just want to get laid and not have to think about whether or not my penis is going inside of her gently enough. Plus, I miss Regodise. Her father is not well. I just drove her to her parents’ house. I was going to spend the weekend there with her, but pope called and I had to come back. I’ll check in on her a bit later. She didn’t look well when I left.” 

“Why don’t you let Thato go and just focus on Regodise? You love the hell out of that woman.” I say. 

“I do love Regodise. But I feel like I’m not good enough for her. I have the biggest fear of hurting her and I love her too much to see her hurting because of me. Thato makes it easy. She actually motivates me to cheat on her because she’s full of shit. So I have no issues with fucking Thebe’s whores tonight.”

We both laugh. Like I said, Thato and Ona are a match made in hell. Only Thato knows why she is still with this guy. I think he needs to focus his time and attention on Dise – see a therapist if he has to. It’s nice to see him warm up to a woman he doesn’t need to flaunt money for just to get her to sleep with him. Thato is just a distraction and it will not end well because Thato is also the girl who does not like not being chosen. 

“And then Pule, why is he here?” I ask. 

Ona shrugs his shoulders and I know that the conversation will not be entertained further.

“I’m going to pick you up tonight and we are going to have one hell of a party. Trust me. Then we will spend the evening practicing how we going to make those babies you promised you’d give me.” Khotso says, speaking into the phone. 

“You not going to have phone sex now, are you?” Pule asks. But he’s not being funny. He’s actually really irritated right now. 

Ona chuckles.

“I’ll send you something now now then you can buy yourself whatever you want to wear.” Khotso continues. 

…

“But this is why I work so hard. It’s all for you. Without having you to look forward to, all of this means nothing.” Khotso says. 

That statement hits all of us. With Ona, he is the most likely candidate to take over pope’s position as king. But Khotso is the one who will most likely get married first and actually has someone stable who will give him what the throne wants more than anything in life – an heir. Ona is all about bad bitches and sex. If he placed focus on Regodise, he would be married by now and he would be more than prepared to take his place. But he is addicted to girls like Thato and girls like that bring nothing solid and healthy to the table. We thought Thato was the one when we first met her. But shame, Regodise came along and Thato became the one who just keeps staying through the bullshit. 

And me, I just want someone who I can share all of this with. Phendu and Jabu have a reason for wanting all this money – they have people to provide for. Me, I spend this on bitches and booze. What kind of a life is that? Working so hard just to spend money on stuff you can never invest in? Imagine if I could share all of this with Moringa? 

My dick twitches as I think about her. Fuck! I don’t need this right now. We are about to go in and end a life.

We finally get to the club. This club is nice. I have been here a few times when Dee and Cath dragged me here. Its market is students, but like any other club, you will find people who are over-age buying drinks for the pretty little things.

“I’ll go get us something to drink”, Derrick says then heads to the bar. This one thinks he is getting some ass tonight. Kanti shame, I’m probably not even going to leave with him. I’m going to find a classmate or something and disappear with her. 

I find a couch that is not occupied and settle on it. I take out my phone and start typing my tutorial. People keep sitting next to me then leaving, Derrick included. He even drank both his drinks. 

I email myself tutorial number one and start on tutorial number two. 

“You’ve been on your phone this whole time, Moringa. Are you bored?” That can only be one guy. I look at him. 

“My name is –

“Tlali, how are you?” He says. 

“Please stop calling me Moringa”, I say. 

“I cross my heart.” He says. He sits next to me.

“Why are you sitting here by yourself and playing on your phone?” He asks me. 

“I’m avoiding a date I’ve been set up on and I’m trying to finish my tutorials.” I say. 

“You are typing your tutorials on your phone? In a club? Do you always try this hard to be boring?” I actually don’t like Zithulele. He is very obnoxious. He can almost see the conversion in my head written over my face. He giggles. 

“I know the owner of this club. I could ask him if you could use his laptop and office to finish those tutorials.” He says. He is redeeming himself.

I’m already on my feet and he is laughing. He offers me his hand as he stands up and I hold onto it. It is packed here. We hold hands as we leave the busy floor and climb up the stairs. 

“Wait here”, he says as he walks through a door. 

I do as I am told. I look down and I see Derrick all over Catherine and Catherine’s guy all over some other girl. Kanthe where was I going? 

The vibe is actually nice. I just don’t have good company. 

I feel a hand on my lower back and I jump. 

“It’s just me”, Zithulele says, leading me into the office. 

I walk in and throw myself on the office chair. It is a nice office. It is spacious, has a private bar, a few couches, a cinema screen TV and a 60inch TV showing aspects of the club. 

He closes the door and there is absolute silence. 

“Silence”, I say as I smile to myself.

“The windows are sound proof.” He says.

“Perfect”, I say. 

“The restroom is in there”, he says.

I nod my head. 

“I’ll be right back”, he says. 

He leaves and I do my tutorials. 

After about an hour, he is still not back and I am done with my tutorials. 

I call my mom.

“Hello nana”, my mom.

“Hi mama. Ushup?” Me.

“I’m okay, my baby. I am just tired. I was just talking to your father and he was telling me that Reitumetsi wants to take out lobola for Susan”, my mom says. Susan is Reitumetsi’s girlfriend. 

My mother and I burst out laughing.

“I asked him where Reitumetsi got the money for lobola from. He told me the girl gave him the money.” My mother continues. 

Modimo! I have honestly heard it all. She is paying for her own lobola? I have no words. 

“Where will they live afterwards, mama?” I ask. 

“Apparently at her flat. This girl has a flat in the suburbs”, my mom says. 

My mother and I chat about her work, my day, and these upcoming lobola negotiations. My mom tells me that this weekend, they will go and reserve cows. There has to be money and walking cows. May the lightning strike me if I ever pay for my own lobola.  

Zithulele walks back into the office, so I say goodbye to my mother. He smiles at me. 

“I’ve brought you a drink and some hot wings. I didn’t know what you drink, so I got you some champagne”, he says. He puts the bottle of champagne as well as a champagne flute in front of me and opens the box with the wings. He sits on a chair opposite me. 

“Thank you”, I say. 

“You are welcome.” He eats a wing and drinks the beer in the bottle he is holding.

“I hope your girlfriend is not going to walk in through that door and cause drama”, I say. 

“And she’s very capable of doing that yaz. I change my number ten times a year because of her and she always finds me. Nine out of the ten times, she finds me with another woman and she turns shit up”, he says. 

This actually makes me laugh. He smiles at me. He puts his feet on the desk and eats the wings. 

“How’s mommy?” He asks me. 

“She’s fine. We were just gossiping about my brother and the girl he says he wants to marry”, I say.

“You don’t like your soon-to-be sister?” Him.

“She’s too desperate for our liking. She is paying for her own lobola.” I tell him. 

“So what? Women do that now. Wouldn’t you pay for your own lobola if your man loved you and couldn’t afford whatever your parents are asking for?” Him. 

“No”, I say. 

He chuckles. 

“Shame man, let the girl get her man and leave her alone.” He says. 

I shake my head. 

“My brothers and I want to go to Soweto tonight. One of my brother’s wives is throwing a surprise party for her mother. Would you like to come with me?” He says. 

“Why would I go to Soweto with you to meet your brothers and their wives and God knows who else?” Me. 

“Because you strike me as the type that’s never been outside of the Tholoana borders.” Him.

“Why aren’t you taking your girlfriend?” Me. 

“Because those wives are as stuck up as you are. You’ll fit right in.” Him. 

I’m offended. 

“Our seminars start next week. We will be back by Sunday.” He says. 

“When is the party and why are we only leaving now?” Me. 

“It’s on Saturday. This week is preparations. We have to spend some time in our parents’ house and commune with our ancestors from Wednesday”, he says. 

“Where will I be staying?” Me. 

“Can you be spontaneous for once in your life? Just trust me. I won’t get you killed, I promise.” He says. 

“No thanks. Maybe next time.” I say.

He looks at me. He seems disappointed

“No wonder you judge people for paying their own lobola.” He says. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You think you are above everyone else. You treat people like a bad smell stuck on your bottom lip. It’s not cool.” 

“Because I don’t want to run off to a different country with you?” 

“Forget it. I have to go. You can head back to your date. You actually deserve to suffer.” He says. 

“No, please don’t make me go back down there.” I beg.

“Moringa, I need to hit the road. I’ll be on the road for the next eight hours. I don’t have time for this.” He says. 

“Okay, please drop me off at my place. I stay at the postgraduate res.” I beg. 

“When I get into my car, I’m headed to Meadowlands. I don’t have time for this.” Him. 

“Zithulele, I don’t even have a passport. How will I cross the border?” 

He looks at me and shakes his head.

“Do you want to go to Soweto with me or not?” He asks me. 

“Okay, but I first need to go home and pack. And again, I don’t have a passport.” I reply. 

“Let’s go!” Him.