Today is the first of January. It’s a new year. And every year on this day, my mom hosts a lunch where all my siblings and I come to eat and pray for the year ahead. Even my dad comes out of whatever woodworks he disappears to during the year and joins us. Our children come with us. My baby mamas insist on coming with their kids as if my family and I are incapable of looking after my children. I generally don’t even speak to them. Not even my mother speaks to them. So they eat outside instead of at that table with the family. This is where their friendship is the strongest. 

Today, I’m arriving with Meh. I told my mom that I’m coming with her. My mom has been wanting to meet her since I told her that I was driving to KwaNongoma to spend New Year’s Eve with her. 

Meh and I greeted the new year on the road. We drove through the night after driving her mom back home when she decided she was tired from partying. 

We arrived at a hotel at 6am this morning, slept, got up at 10am, showered, got ready and now we are parking my blue Ford Everest sport outside my mom’s gate. 

My two brothers and three sisters are already here with their partners and kids. Well, my sisters are single but have kids – even my younger ones. By young, I mean ages 22 and 29. The elder sister is older than all of us – she’s the first born. My brothers are both married. 

“Are you sure about this?” She asks me for the 100th time. She’s been nervous about this day all the way here. 

“Yes. I’m serious about you… about us. The baby mamas are nothing but the mothers of my kids. Don’t let them get to you at all.”

“I just don’t want drama; especially in your mother’s house.”

I kiss her. 

I remind her that she’s gorgeous. Because she is. She’s wearing a tastefully short dress. It lands just above the knee. It’s tight and loose at the same time. It hugs her perfect hips and apple-shaped bum stunningly. Her d-cup sized boobs are neatly tucked into the dress too. I don’t know how anyone has boobs, ass and calves and still looks slim-thick. But she does. Her dress is brown. She’s wearing the Stan Smith sneakers that I bought for her because she wanted to wear pumps. Hai! She has her hair in cornrows that go up and form a long ponytail. She looks beautiful. She is a beautiful woman. 

“You are going to be great. Come on, let’s get inside”, I say. 

We both climb out of the car. 

We walk into the yard and towards the house holding hands. I introduce her to my brothers first: Solomon and Kaizer. I also don’t know why our parents gave us such names. She meets their wives too and they seem to click. I like that. 

We now walk to the house – and yes, my baby mamas are LIVID! She meets my sisters, Martha, Prudence and Gladness. Like I said, I also don’t know why we have these names. 

Now she meets my mom. After I introduce her, my mom immediately tells her that she’s going to call her ‘Waka’ because that’s her daughter and no one is going to tell her anything. This is followed by a hug, and I know I’ve hit the jackpot. 

“So we get slave names and Meh gets Waka? This is not right”, Kaizer says. 

We all laugh. 

“Nginga siza, mah?” Meh offers to help. 

“Yes please, Waka. And I’m going to teach you Sotho.” My mom. 

Everyone in here bursts into laughter. No one had the guts to say something all this time. My mom said it. 

“Ngingabonga mah. Terrence has no interest in teaching me.” Meh says. 

Wow! 

We are just laughing. 

My kids spring to me and hug me. 

My mom is the one who introduces them to Meh. 

“What kind of a name is Meh?” My only daughter, Gosiame, asks. 

“It’s a Zulu name. My full name is Phumelele.” Meh. 

“That sounds very difficult.” My eldest son, Keamohetswe, says. 

“You can just call me Meh or Phumeh”, Meh says. 

“Mme Phumeh or Mme Meh.” My mother. 

The kids laugh, enjoying the Mme-Meh part. I think this is going to be her name around here. 

My mom whispers to me – as everyone is laughing about and chatting to Meh – and she says, “this one is the one. If you make her my daughter, I’ll die a very happy woman. She’s actually here for you, not for what you can give her. She’s here to love you and not to leech off you until you have nothing but debt in your name.”

I smile at her.

She’s smiling too, but she’s also suddenly very serious. I knew she’d love Meh. Any mother would love her. But I didn’t realise that she’d feel this way about her or say these things about her within five minutes of meeting her.

My baby mamas are not allowed in my mom’s house, hence they are still outside. Plates will be sent to them there. 

We are all now seated at this rather big table that my mom only allows us to sit at on the first of every month. It accommodates every single one of us, including Meh. She seems happy to be here. I’m also very happy that she’s here with us. She’s sitting next to me. 

“Mme Meh, where are you from? I’ve never heard your name before”, my last born, Tshepo, asks Meh.

I guess people are over the Mme-Meh humour.

“I’m from KZN.” Meh says, smiling at her.

“Where is that?” My third born asks.

“It’s a province in South Africa”, Meh says.

“Does that mean that you are a foreigner?” One of my brothers’ kids says. I find myself choking on my food because he’s question is not asked with a tasteful tone.

“Yes in the sense that I wasn’t born nor raised here in the Kingdom. But I’m not in the kingdom illegally. All my documents allow me to be here and I work hard.” Meh says. She’s a bit uncomfortable, but she’s tackled it well. 

“Where do you work?” Another kid. 

All the adults are watching this and I’m also getting a bit annoyed now.

“I work at the royal palace. I am the queen’s lady-in-waiting.” 

SILENCE! 

ABSOLUTE SILENCE.

“Wow!” Another kid.

“And she helped me get a heart. Thank you very much for speaking to the queen and helping me, Mme-Meh”, Hopolang says.

Meh smiles at him. 

Suddenly, everyone seems her important enough to not be interrogated. Maybe that’s how this conversation should’ve started. 

“So, are we all done with our questions now?” I say.

The table laughs.

“Waka, welcome to our family. We love you very much and you are very welcome in this home. We pray that you are here to stay!” My mom says.

Meh smiles and says thank you.

I kiss her. 

Meh helped my sisters-in-law with cleaning up and washing dishes. Now, we all decide to play some games. It’s as if we all forgot that there are three women sitting outside waiting for my kids. And I know that I’ll have to pay for taxis for them. 

Meh is enjoying wine with my sisters-in-law and I like how they’ve just embraced her. We play games – my mom included right there – and it’s a lot of fun. 

At 9pm, we all decide to leave. I phone private taxis for my baby-mamas. They are all very upset. Meh decided to stay away from them all together. While the private taxi conversation was happening, she was chilling indoors with my mom and my kids. My kids took a liking to her – especially the one that’s most grateful for his new heart. I didn’t tell him that Meh was responsible for that. I know for a fact that his mother didn’t say anything because she was prepared to reject the help just because it came from Meh. So I asked my mom if she’s the one who said anything. She says she did tell him… he needed to know and to never disrespect Meh because she saved his life. 

The private taxis arrived between 9:15pm and 9:30pm. So now, at the 10pm, Meh and I leave. 

“Today was nice. Thank you for inviting me”, she says to me.

“You were a hit with my family. They love you.” I say.

She smiles at me. 

“Wasn’t it awkward that the mothers of your kids were outside the entire time?” She asks me.

“They were not invited. I’m more than capable of fetching my kids and taking them back afterwards. But they insist on coming all the time and this is what happens.” 

“Ey… don’t you get along with any of them?” She asks me.

I look at her. 

She’s actually looking at me as she asks me. 

“It’s complicated, Meh.” 

She’s still looking at me. 

“The first two baby-mamas were friends. So their fighting and hatred for each other has even trickled down to the kids and I resent them for that. My kids have no business baiting each other because of their mothers’ business.” I say.

“Wena why were you sleeping with friends?” She asks me, but it’s not in a judgemental way and I appreciate that. 

“I was young and stupid. I didn’t love Phemello, but I still didn’t have to treat her the way that I did and I’m man enough to say that.”

“Have you told her that?” She asks me. 

“No.”

“Maybe you should. It might mean nothing to you, but it could be everything to her. It could actually be the healing that she needs.”

I don’t think I’m ever going to give Phemello that kind of satisfaction in life!

“What’s your issue with the other two baby mamas?” 

“Well, I didn’t really like Lerato. I just smashed on a regular and she got pregnant. Gosiame was the first child that we had together – she came after Keamohetswe. Phemello had Hopolang shortly after Gosiame was born. Then Lerato had Sello. I was very dizzy shame. The kids kept coming at me at an exponential rate. She thought I loved her enough to leave Phemello for her, and when I didn’t, she swore to make me pay for giving her children and not marrying her. Then Mercy and I dated after I officially broke up with Phemello. We had a child – Tshepo – but things didn’t work out between us. She’s the least problematic if I’m being honest. She has a job and to be honest, she meets me halfway with a lot… even for the other kids. She just sometimes succumbs to the peer pressure of the other two then does stupid things like come to my mom’s house and sits outside all day instead of moving on with her day while I spend time with my child.” 

She nods her head. 

“Are you mad at me?” I ask her. I suddenly feel unbelievably filthy before her perfection. 

“I’m not judging you, Terrence. At all. You were young. You have a past and you made some mistakes. But you are a 42 year old grown man now. I don’t expect you to be sleeping with my friends or anyone else that’s not me – especially because we are together together now. And no more children for you! Your sperm has done its bit to grow the nation of your last name.” 

We both laugh. 

“Not even with you?” I ask her. I’d like a child with her.

“We will see. But I’m 33 years old now. Isn’t it a bit too late for me to want to have kids?”

“Don’t write yourself off, Meh. If you want kids, I’d like to be the one that gives you those kids.” 

“I’ll remember that”, she says. 

We hold hands. 

“Yaz, the royal house is giving me a car”, she says. 

“What level is your job? Why are you getting cars?”

She laughs and says, “that’s not even my concern. I can’t drive!” 

Now I laugh. Then I say, “I’ll teach you.” 

“Thank you. Undlovukazi also says that I start driving school next week. They are getting me an Audi Q7. Is that a nice car?” 

WHAT DOES SHE MEAN?!

I look at her. 

She bursts into laughter. 

I shake my head. 

…

I’m waking up next to my naked woman this morning. She’s still fast asleep. I don’t blame her. She’s probably exhausted. I’m just as tired and my body hurts so badly. I actually have to work today. My junior chefs are taking care of breakfast and lunch because I have to go sort out my children’s stuff and fees. Mercy – the one who actually has a job – has our child in a school that’s good but not a private school and she helps me with the fees and uniform. The other crazy two have these kids in a private school that I honestly cannot afford. we didn’t get reports last year because I’m behind with fees. They both don’t work so I’m on my own with those fees. I told my mom and she said she’d hustle some cash to help me. So, she told me to come alone today then we will go settle the fees together. But I’ve requested a transfer for those kids and I’m putting them in the school that Tshepo is in. I can afford that one. I haven’t told the mothers yet. I’ll tell them today when we have to go buy uniform. 

My phone rings. It’s Phemello. I ignore it. 

My phone rings again. It’s the other baby mama, Lerato, now. They want school fees and they want reports and they want uniform. I’m up to my neck in debt with these people. I’m even considering selling my car and getting something smaller. 

My phone rings again. 

“Hai ngeke mfwethu, answer your phone!” Meh says. 

I cuddle her instead. 

“I was trying to sleep before I go meet up with the queen. I have a full day ahead of me today and I have driving lessons. I’m so tired.” She says.

I just kiss her then say, “Good morning to you too, my love.” 

Now she lies on her back and looks at me. 

“What time will you be back today from your very busy day?” She asks me. 

“On time to prepare dinner.” I say.

“Okay, I’ll see you tonight?” She asks me.

“Of course.” I say.

“Listen, the queen has given me an allowance as well.”

What exactly will she be doing for the queen?! A car and a house?

“I thought I’d bring my mom up here, but she’s adamant that she wants to stay in KZN. So I’ll be helping her to extend the house and make it a decent family home. So I was thinking that if we no longer want to live here, we could use it for something for ourselves… big enough to also have the kids visit, you know.” 

Now I’m shocked.

“You’d really use your housing benefit on my kids?” I ask her.

“Awufuni wena ukuthi bakuvakashele away from your mom’s house?”

I honestly feel so ashamed. I cannot even afford a house that my kids can call a home. I’m such a failure! 

“You’ll tell me when you are ready, okay?” She says. 

I kiss her. 

–

I arrive at my mom’s house. 

After she’s fed me porridge with a concerning amount of butter, milk and sugar in it, she sits next to me and gives me an envelope that’s thick with quite the stack of money. 

“Mah! Where did you get this money from? So much money?! You didn’t go to a mashonisa, did you?” 

“And if I did? Would you decline my money?” 

“Mah, I don’t want you giving away this house or any of your things because of greedy baby mothers!” 

“Relax! It’s not from a mashonisa!” 

I look at her. 

Where did she get this kind of money?! 

“Waka gave it to me to give to you. She didn’t want me to tell you that it came from her. But I just couldn’t help but tell you. She says she’s heard you argue with the mothers of your kids. She knows you are up to your neck in debt. She was hurt that you didn’t go to her, but I told her that you are a proud man. So she asked me to say it’s from me. But here’s the money you need to settle the fees.” 

I don’t know why I’m crying. 

I don’t know why I’m crying. 

I don’t know why I’m crying! 

I can’t even swallow the porridge.

“Terrence, treat this girl well. She has a good head on her shoulders and she loves you! She’s the one who’s going to build with you.” 

“How can I accept this?”

“You can and you will! This is bigger than your pride! Then you will love the hell out of that girl. Ke yena makoti waka from wena!” 

I’m so so thankful!