Today is my wedding day. And my dress does not fit me. I’ve had to phone my designer because she must come and adjust this dress by my ass. She said that she is on her way.

My mom has hired people to come do our massages while we wait. She says it’s to calm me down. What will calm me down is a dress that can actually fit me so that I can walk down the aisle dressed in it. My reception dress is fine. It’s the ceremony dress that’s the issue.

It’s 7am. The ceremony is supposed to start at 8am. We are not going to make it for 8am. My designer left Johannesburg at 6am. She should be here in the next 30 minutes, but it won’t take less than 30 minutes to fix my dress, and the venue is about ten minutes away. I’m actually stressed. 

I decide to phone Ntuthuko to at least give him a heads up. 

“Nkosikazi wami”, that’s him answering the phone. Pity I’m not in a lovey-dovey mood. 

“Baby”, I say… sobbing. I don’t know why I’m getting emotional all of a sudden.

“Yini manje?” He asks me.

“My dress doesn’t fit. The designer is on her way to sort it out, but we will have to move the wedding out by two hours. We will have to start at 10am and not 8am.”

“Baby, we will wait for you. Nawe ungakhali. Hai man. You must enjoy this day. And I know you’ll be beautiful… even if you walk down that isle in jeans and a bikini top. Uyishisa wena!” 

I laugh. He laughs too.

“Keep me updated, okay?” Him.

“I will. I love you baby.”

“I love you, mkami.” Him.

My heart just smiles.

By the time I catch up with my mom and my brothers’ wives, they are now doing their nails and hair. So, I just join. I didn’t want a massage anyway. I’m too anxious to act like all is serene. I sit on the seat allocated for me and they get my hair and nails started.

“Are you okay?” My mom asks me.

“I’m good. The designer will be here soon, then this will be resolved.” I say. 

“Did you speak to Ntuthuko?” 

I nod my head. 

She just leaves me alone because she can just see that she’s not going to get much else out of me.

“So, when do the kids go back to their mothers?” Belinda asks me. She’s married to Sizwe – my eldest brother. I’m not sure what authority she has asking me those kinds of questions, but apparently we must be nice to even those who are over familiar with you. 

“If things go mine and Ntuthuko’s way, the kids will stay with us”. I say.

“Do you think the mothers will agree?” Is she friends with the mothers or something? 

“I didn’t agree with them dumping their kids on me because they no longer had a never-ending fund supply from my husband, but I still took the kids and kept it pushing. Why should I be respectful of what they think?”

“Because those are their kids! You can’t just take people’s children and have that kind of attitude.”

“Like you don’t want to accept my brother’s kids? You think we are all like you?” 

“Nonkanyiso, hai bo. No.” My mom.

“Hai mama, don’t only call out one side to this argument. Tell her that I’m not her friend. Angazong’jwayela kabi.” I say.

Belinda looks like she wants to cry. Mxm.

I need this designer to get here. I’m not having a good day. 

“Are you planning to have more kids?” Belinda asks me. 

Why doesn’t she shut up like the other two wives? Or she thinks she has rights because she married the eldest? 

“So, you are inspecting my womb now?” Me.

“I’m making conversation”, she says.

“About things that have got nothing to do with you?” 

Now she’s quiet. 

“Mama, please stop discussing my things with your daughters-in-law.”

“I don’t have daughters-in-law. I have daughters. Just like your husband is my son.”

“Well, let me know if I can no longer confide in you. I don’t want my business travelling from one makoti to the next.”

“Yini ngawe wena? It’s the dress and the designer?”

“No, it’s my business being discussed to the point where people like Belinda are brave enough to ask me nonsense.”

There’s silence.

“Nonkanyiso kababa, isilwane ne-keist ozophuma ngazo la ekhaya are ready.” My dad walks in and says.

“Ngiyabonga baba.”

“And you were right about Keith.” He says. 

I smile at him. 

“Hawu baba, does that mean umfowethu won’t be considered?” Lungi says. She’s married to Bafana – the third born. 

“He’s not ready. I can consider him for more junior roles, like specialist positions… but nothing higher than that.” My dad.

She gives me looks. 

Heh! 

“Your designer? Is she coming right?” My dad asks me. 

“I’ll phone her if she’s not here in a few minutes.” I say.

“What’s plan B if she doesn’t make it?” My dad.

“She has to make it, baba. She really has to.” Me.

“Give me her number.” My dad.

I just give him my cellphone and tell him to search for Phomelelo. That’s her name. He takes my phone then leaves the room. 

Now, I feel like I’m about to have a panic attack.

“Slindile! Kuzohanjwa nini, kanti?! Isn’t the wedding starting at 8am?” One of my mom’s sisters ask her. They’ve been stressing my mother since they arrived here. 

“There is a slight delay.” My mom.

“Delay?! What delay?! For hair and nails that you are only doing now?!” She says.

“No man! You and your family are disorganised! Disorganised! Omkhwenyane bona do they know that there are delays?” My mom’s mother. 

“Yes, they know.” My mom. 

“So, you are just inconveniencing everyone because you are all doing hair and nails?! No one even did our makeup. Why can’t we also be beautiful?!” Another sister. 

I see my designer and I literally jump out of my seat. I leave the arguing people alone to argue by themselves. We head into my bedroom and we get started on my dress. She has my cellphone, telling me that my dad gave it to her to give to me so that I can call Ntuthuko. 

The dress that she’s busy sewing onto me right now is an exact fit. It’s only designed for standing. I’m unable to sit down in it, hence it’s for the ceremony. I have another dress for the reception. That’s why I can’t even have a sip of water in this dress. I have to maintain the weight that I have as it is being sewn onto me. My hair person is finishing off my hair as the dress is being sewn on me. Then my makeup person is refreshing my makeup. 

I chat to Ntuthuko via WhatsApp as they are all busy on me. 

“Dress is almost done.” I send the text.

“Okay, babe. Should everyone start getting ready?” 

“Yes.” 

He sends me kisses.

“Sisi, please leave some room for me to sit because I have to get into a car and be driven to the venue.” I tell her.

She nods her head and continues with her mission. 

I’m done with everything now. I carry my dress and head outside. My sisters-in-law are not even ready. I don’t care. I’m leaving and I’m going to get married. It’s my day. I’m not waiting for anyone. 

“Baba, I’m ready.” I say to my dad. He’s ready. He’s standing outside with my mother and brothers. 

“Can we wait for everyone else?” My dad.

“No. It’s my day and I’m already two hours behind. I’m not waiting for anyone. We will start, they can catch up later.” I say.

My parents are both shocked. 

“Am I driving myself there or what?” Me.

My brothers carry the kiest and the animal. We are now going around the house telling my ancestors that I’m leaving this home. After today, I’ll no longer be a Khumalo. I’ll be a Maphumulo. I leave this house without a child, but I’m going to build wherever I’m going with the Maphumulo family. My ancestors are asked to not turn their backs on me. I’ve been a good and respectful child all these years. I must be blessed abundantly.

Now that we are at the gate again, my whole family is in the cars they are travelling in. I’m glad that they get the message – I’ll leave their asses here. 

Now I get inside my father’s Rolls Royce with both my parents. We finally take off and head to the venue. I let Ntuthuko know via WhatsApp as well. 

…

The moment is finally here. All my guests are dressed in white. Our bridal party is in gold. I actually thought this champagne gold wouldn’t work for the guys, but Senzi, Khabane and Akwande have definitely made it work. They have black pants and champagne gold jackets. My bridesmaids are Bassie and Morafe. Wandi is my maid-of-honour. My dad is walking me down the aisle. My dress is all white with gold bling. I’m wearing gold jewellery. 

My dad hands me over to my husband. 

Finally, I’m here, marrying him. I can breathe now. 

“You look out of this world”, he tells me.

I smile at him.

He kisses me.

“Not yet”, the priest says.

People laugh. 

The ceremony finally starts. It takes about thirty minutes. Then we are exchanging rings and kissing each other. People are cheering for us and we are happy too. 

We take photos as people are shown to the reception area. We actually have fun taking these pictures. Then we all have to go and change. I change in Ntuthuko’s lodge room. We even squeeze in some sex as we change outfits. 

Now we are in our reception outfits. We make our way to the reception area and we enter with a step… to some piano song I did not approve of, but Ntuthuko forced, saying that it’s the only decision he had for this wedding. Imagine!

But ke…

We are dancing and having fun, while everyone is cheering us on and dancing to the song that’s playing. I guess they are the ones that are enjoying this song the most. 

We get to the bridal table. Ntuthuko and I sit together. Wandi and Senzi sit together. It’s just us four here: us as well as our best man and maid-of-honour. Bassie and Morafe go to sit with their families. Akwande and Khabane also head to sit with their families too. 

Yesterday, our parents were the ones who delivered speeches. Today, our friends will be the ones speaking. At the second traditional wedding in Tholoana Kingdom, where I’ll be welcomed into the Maphumulo family, our siblings will speak at that wedding. We are not here for recycled speeches just to say the same people spoke at all three weddings. 

Today, Bassie, Morafe and Khabane have speeches. They say really nice things. They speak really well. We told them to be brief and they were just that. After we have eaten, it is time for the after party. Now, I’m in my third and last dress for the evening… the after-party dress. We actually party until it’s super late. I’m the most impressed with the old people… they are really having fun! 

At 4am, Ntuthuko’s dad tells us that we need to get going. Our private plane has to take off at 5:45am, else our airway will close. We go change out of these clothes and into travelling clothes. I even wash off my makeup because I plan to sleep in that plane. 

My parents will also be flying, but they are catching their flight at OR Tambo. The bigger family is taking busses to Tholoana Kingdom. They are leaving from the venue to the kingdom. But my parents fly out in the morning. 

We are boarding the flight at 5:15am. Ntuthuko and I are with our four kids. Bassie is with her man, her kid and mzala. Wandi is here with Senzi. Morafe is here with her kids and her man – oh, and her sister. The parents are all here too. Sihle passes out on top of me. Man, I missed these babies. Bonga sleeps between Ntuthuko and I. The two older kids then pass out themselves. Their seats are opposite us. I put a light blanket over them. We also have a light blanket over us. 

“Goodnight Mrs Maphumulo”, Ntuthuko says to me.

“Goodnight Mr Maphumulo”, I say.

We kiss.

He dozes off. 

Have I told you about my wedding ring, honey? It is an 18ct white gold Protea Cluster diamond ring! Honey, I’m in love! He told me he just wanted a simple ring. Lol! I got him a black platinum ring with our initials engraved on it. 

I am Mrs Maps, honey! Bow down! 

“Ja. Ke wena Mothipa?” I hear a rather angry voice say. 

I look behind me where Morafe is sitting with her family. The king is addressing her husband. 

I shake Ntuthuko to wake up, because this man is scaring me a bit. 

“Yes, I am, Morena”. Morafe’s man says.

“So, it’s your brother that goes around sleeping with young girls? Kids, to be specific.” The king.

“Excuse me?” Morafe’s man.

“Your brother sleeps with kids and promises them marriage.”

“But he’s married. And I’ve never heard of him speak of such.”

“He’s sleeping with my daughter! My seventeen-year-old daughter. And he’s saying stupid shit like he’s going to make her his wife.”

This guy is so shocked.

“Listen here, you tell that motherfucker that I’m going to murder him.” The king.

“Khotso!” Wandi’s mom says to the twin that is sitting next to her.

“I’m the one that promised not to touch him. Ona made no such promises.” The twin.

“Kill him?!” Thabang.

“Yes, and I’m going to fine your father for the piece of shit that he raised. He deflowered my seventeen-year-old? A princess of the highest ruling house in the kingdom? A child under the age of eighteen! Which, by the way, is a punishable crime in our kingdom that lawyers call statutory rape! Or what?! He thinks this is South Africa where sixteen-year-olds can have sex and are regarded to be of consenting age? This is the kingdom, and unless both parties are above the age of eighteen, we punish motherfuckers who don’t know the difference between a child and a woman! I’m not only going to punish that son of a bitch… I’m going to murder him and I’m going to take my time making sure that he’s no longer breathing. You tell him to come and own up to what he did. You tell him to come and face me and tell me what he has done in accordance with our customary laws. If I have to find him…” he chuckles to himself. 

Thabang is not okay. Morafe is equally scared. I’m spooked! Wandi’s mother looks pissed off. Rena is crying. The king and his twin – LIVID!

…

Today is Friday. Tomorrow is the last part of my wedding to Tamia. I thought we’d spend this week doing nothing but have sex. But this is Tamia Maphumulo. She dragged me all over Tholoana Kingdom every day to find a house and meet with lawyers about custody for my kids. Then, we had to arrange for her furniture from her old house to move to this new house, then whatever furniture was still outstanding, we had to buy. I’m already tired. She’s exhausted. We haven’t even had sex all week. I’m so tired that my dick doesn’t even stand anymore. I’m sure she’s also more than bushed. My parents have been such a great help. We’ve been staying with them all week – Wandi and Senzi too. When we get busy during the day, my parents stay with my kids. I wasn’t in a rush to buy a house, but my dad made me realise that this is a good thing. And with Tamia having to ship her life to this side of life, a house won’t hurt. Did I also mention that I love my new whip? A whole Range Rover Velar? 

Tamia is busy showing people where to put the furniture. We have three domestic workers that live in our outside flat. They are all old and fat. I think Tamia hired them on purpose. 

We have an outside three-bedroom flat where the domestic workers live. Our house is a triple story. That’s the only reason that I agreed to this shit. My dad actually sold this house to us. It was his house with Mam’Nosi. They built this house. When he married Mam’Fifi, he bought her her own house. He never sold this one. I don’t know why. No one ever asked. On Wednesday, Tamia was crying about not finding the perfect house. My dad brought us here and showed us this house. She fell in love with it. I’d think that he’d be nice and give me this house, but he sold it to us. And not at a discounted rate… nope, at market value. Tamia used the money she got from selling her house as a down payment. She got R5million from that house.  My dad was selling this to us for R12million. I settled the rest. By Thursday, a cleaning company was here cleaning the house… from floors to windows, repainting walls and cleaning stoves, cupboards – everything. This morning, furniture arrived – from the shops and from her old house. The domestic workers also moved in. 

The top floor has two offices. One is hers and the other is apparently mine. As to when I’ve ever worked in an office… hai ke. She said if I don’t use it, she would use it as her boardroom. I told her to knock herself out. This place also has a study for the kids and playrooms. It’s basically a busy floor. There are also two toilets up here. Tamia says they are half bathrooms. I asked her what half a bathroom is. She told me that it’s bathrooms that only have a toilet and a basin. It doesn’t have a shower or a bathtub. Ja neh! Isilungu! 

The second floor has all the bedrooms. It has seven bedrooms. Each child has a bedroom with its own in-suite bathroom – not half bathroom. I thought I should just emphasise that because she did. She locked the bathrooms in Bonga’s and Sihle’s room because they are kids and we do not need any accidents here. She says she will bath them in there, but she wants them supervised in bathrooms. There are two guest bedrooms here. Our main bedroom has a big ass bathroom, two walk-in closets, a makeup station (I also don’t know, chief) and I don’t know what else. It’s very nice. Very… new to me.

The ground floor or first floor or whatever you call the floor people enter into… that one has our massive kitchen with two stoves. I also don’t know what we are doing with two stoves. But we have them. The laundry room is also in here, it has a door leading to an area where the laundry hangs to get dry. Tamia says it’s called a courtyard. Oksalayo, kunekwa iwashini lapho! There is also a dining room, a TV room, a gym, and an entertainment room leading to the patio. The entertainment room and the TV room have fireplaces. That feature I enjoy. The patio has a gas braai stove. The patio then leads to the garden. It’s a massive garden. We have a swimming pool as well which Tamia has covered so that kids don’t have accidents here. Honestly, I’m also afraid to have an accident here. I cannot swim! The domestic workers’ quarters – as Tamia puts it – is opposite the pool. There is also a tree house here. I don’t know what happens there, but if I were young and had that, I’d bring girls to fuck in there. 

Our garage accommodates six cars. That’s enough for her two cars – the GLC coupe and Porsche, my two cars – the Range Rover and the BMW X6. We still have space for two more cars. We also have one hell of a driveway. My job is to find a garden service and someone who will come and wash our cars every Sunday. They’ll be on my payroll. 

SPLASH! 

I look out the patio sliding door. Tamia is in a bikini. I’m a bit pissed because there are so many people moving shit here and my wife is in a bikini. But she looks hot. I see one of the men looking at her. 

“Voetsek wena!” I say. 

He snaps out of it and continues putting shit in place. 

She walks out of the water. 

My God! 

Tamia is light skinned. Very light skinned. She’s thin right, but she has an ass and hips for days. It’s so sexy. Her weave is wet and still on her head. It’s the first I’m seeing this. Usually, when you put a girl in water, hair and eyelashes fall off; ngapha udaka basebusweni turns the water brown and colourful while yena athusa hooray! 

But not my wife! She still looks like a dream – wet and getting me all excited. This one – ngilethelwe amadlozi. I’m in love. I’m thankful. 

She models to me. She gets to me. I wrap my arms around her. We kiss. I actually don’t care that I have a house full of people. She doesn’t seem to care neither. She slides her hands down my tracksuit pants. She rubs my dick. I lay her down right on this patio and I fuck my wife. It’s as if it’s just us here. We know people are here, working. But we fuck. 

We head upstairs now. She takes a shower and we have sex in the shower. 

“I love you, Ntuthuko.” She keeps whispering through her moans. 

“Ngiyakuthanda Mam’Maphumulo.” I tell hers. 

I really do love her! 

–

Now, we are leaving the house. She’s telling the domestic workers to unpack all our clothes and shoes. She gives them instructions on how she wants everything packed for us and for the kids. The movers have left. It’s just the domestic workers now. Tamia tells them that she will get a private taxi to fetch them tomorrow and they must buy groceries and cleaning essentials. She gives them a list of everything to buy as well as a bank card. She tells them that there are cameras around the house, no guests are NOT allowed. Now, we leave. Tamia is going to meet up with her family at the hotel that they are staying at and I’m headed home. The wedding is tomorrow. We should be back here by Sunday with the kids. 

…

Saturday, 6am. 

I was woken up at ungodly hours to get ready because iMtubatuba yonke is here and we must all get ready. The Khumalo’s are bringing our bride at 6:30am. Wandi made Senzi and I food. After we showered, we ate pap and ulusu. Now we are both napping on the couches in my dad’s office. We don’t want to be found. Akwande walks in here with a sleeping bag and a pillow. 

“Sis’Wandi said you are here, and I should sleep here to not be disturbed”, he says. 

Both Senzi and I just look at him. 

“Uph’ usdudla?” I ask him. 

“Fighting with mom and Sis’Wandi. Sis’Wandi slapped her.” Akwande.

Senzi and I both sit up. We are super shocked.

“What happened?” Senzi asks. 

This I must also hear. 

“Luhle was disrespecting mom. It was so bad that Sis’Wandi told her to stop it and have some respect. Then Luhle tried to be nasty to Sis’Wandi and Sis’Wandi was like “I’m not the one! You don’t want to go there with me. I’ll take it all the way there and trust me, one of us will not come back untouched.” Then Luhle pushed Sis’Wandi. Ey, Sis’Wandi hit Luhle and Luhle’s nose bled. Dad came into the kitchen and threw Luhle out of the kitchen. Sis’Wandi told me to come here. Now people are talking.” 

Senzi gets up and rushes out of the study. I really wanted to sleep, but now I must head out and try to solve this. 

We get to the kitchen and Wandi is sitting on a chair with mom next to her. MaNdlovu and MaTango are having a go at them. 

“What gives you the right to put your hands on ingane ya la? Ukhohliwe ukuthi ungene ngenkomo wena la? Or what? Omakoti sebayasiphakamela la ekhaya?” MaNdlovu.

“Baby, are you okay?” Senzi heads straight to Wandi, hugging her and kissing her forehead. 

“Ey wena, Senzangakhona! Awuboni ukuthi kuyakhulunwa la?!” MaTango says.

Senzi stands next to Wandi. My dad is next to his wife. I ask that Tamia doesn’t put me in such a position. But who am I fooling? MaNdlovu has already set the scene. More of these are coming my way. 

“Umkakho ushaye udadewenu!” MaNdlovu says to Senzi. 

“And I’m pressing charges!” Luhle says. I don’t know where she came from.

Wandi is not even moved. She just says, “Luhle, I’m sorry I hit you. Kodwa sisi, let it be clear! I will not be disrespected by you! I’ve seen how you just pounce around and talk to people ngathi udilika emthini. But please make no mistake, I’m not the one. I don’t disrespect you. I don’t expect you to disrespect me. And if you think I’m afraid of prison, please understand that my mother – Maphuthi Ngwenya – did fifteen years and survived. I’m from that womb. I can do jail. I’ll do three months and community service for taking a tooth out of your gums! But make no mistake, sisi… I will not tolerate your smart mouth in my presence. Yekela ukudelela umama. She stands here and she just takes it. Ogogo don’t have her back like they have yours, kodwa I do.”

“Uthini wena?!” MaTango.

“Gogo… with all due respect… I’m not sure what you are trying to teach me here. I sit here and listen to Luhle disrespect umama to the moon and back. You sit there and let it happen. Kodwa umuntu nje oyedwa puts Luhle in her place, and it’s a whole meeting? Unjani yena uLuhle ohamba edelela kodwa yena akakhuzwa”. 

“Senzangakhona! Umakho– 

“Uqinisile umakoti, mah.” My dad says. 

“Yeh?!” MaNdlovu. 

“I begged you to not bring Luhle today. Do you know how much fun and peace we had last week without her?” My dad.

“Shaka, this is your daughter!” MaNdlovu.

“And this is my family! This is my house! We all have to be on our toes every time Luhle is here. My wife has to be in tears and not enjoy her son’s wedding. We have to welcome a bride today – in less than an hour – but we here dealing with Luhle yet again. I’m tired of this girl. Ngikhathele! I’m not even angry at Wandi right now. Actually, ngiyabonga, Wandi. Thank you for protecting my wife in a way that I clearly haven’t been able to do. Now Luhle, either take a bus back to eMtubatuba, or you stay out of everyone’s way today. Today is not about you!” 

“I don’t believe this”, MaNdlovu. 

“Ntuthuko, can you delay the Khumalos? We just want to finish getting ready.” My dad.

“Sure.” Me. 

We all disperse. My mom pulls Wandi with her. I realise now that they are still wearing what they were cooking in. They haven’t changed yet. 

8am.

Everyone else arrived at 6:30am. Wandi’s mother and her crew. The Mohales. The Khuzwayos. The Seetes. Wandi’s friends – Morafe, Bassie and their families. It’s a full house! They’ve eaten and some are already having drinks. 

Now, we hear singing at the gate. I guess my bride is here. When I phoned her at 6:15am – fifteen minutes before she was supposed to be here – to ask her to delay her family, she told me that she was still doing her makeup. Imagine! Yaz, we should’ve left them then fined them when they arrived. I don’t know where sdudla is. I heard Akwande saying that she was locked in her room and she was watching movies. She even put a do not disturb sign on her door. Sdudla neh. I’m so glad I’ve written her off in my life. If I hadn’t, she wouldn’t stop hurting me. I mean why would she do this on my wedding day? It’s unnecessarily hurtful. But I’m good because she’s as good as dead to me. 

The minute that people who are my kids’ age arrived, they disappeared on me. They gave us all a hard time waking up in the morning and getting ready for the day. Now when people their age showed up, they disappeared to the playroom. I know they are safe wherever they are. 

My wife is beautiful guys. She’s being brought here in her white dress. The veil is covering her face, but I can see from here that she is stunning. Her crew is huge. There are two buses here. I’m not even kidding. Then, there are other vehicles as well. They are definitely out-singing us. But my grandmothers are not having it. They decide to go dance in front of all of us as we sing. Bayasina and it’s just so beautiful. Even Wandi and her mother join them. It entices all the Zulu people here, and we are within the moves as well. They still out-sing us, oksalayo we out-danced them. 

There’s finally silence now. The Khumalo spokesperson pleads with our family to open the gate and welcome their daughter. They have the kiest with them, and they offer us an animal to accept, alongside their daughter. Our spokesperson – Senzi – accepts the animal then welcomes the bride. The minute the gate opens, I try to step as fast as I can to my woman. 

We finally hold hands. We do a step together where I now lead her into the house. 

Senzi and I are drinking while my mom and Wandi dress Tamia up into our isiZulu gear. Her family and everyone else are being served in our tent. There is a DJ in there keeping them entertained as they are being served food. I’m not sure what kind of food yet, because this caterer had food for every minute of today’s programme. But her food looked fancy and small. Maybe that’s why people will be having rounds after rounds of food. 

“What’s Luhle’s problem?” Senzi asks me. 

I look at him. 

“She should be here with us, being here for you! We are family!” He says.

“Like she understands the meaning of that.” I say.

“There has be a to stop button to all of this. Ai ngeke mfwethu! Unjani kanti lo muntu?!” He says.

“She’s like this. Don’t let her get to you. Yena she couldn’t be moved whether we are good or not. Phuma kuye”, I say.

The door opens… the door to where my wife was changing. 

Wandi comes out first.

Then my mom.

Then my wife. 

I literally freeze.

My grandmothers ululate. 

She smiles at me.

How can so much beauty only be on one person? Kanjani?!

2pm.

The most important parts of this day are done. The ancestors also recognise Tamia as my wife. The speeches are also done. All our siblings spoke today. Now, it’s basically just people socialising. 

“We need you.” My dad tells me.

Really?! On my wedding day?! Church business?!

I whisper in Tamia’s ear that I’ll be right back. She nods her head then continues talking to people I’ve never met before.

“Tamia too”, my dad. 

Okay, I tell her we are both needed. I guess this is not church business. 

My dad leads us to the living room where we find MaNdlovu, my baby-mamas – all four of them – and their families. Tamia looks at me. I look at her. 

“Hlalani phansi”, MaNdlovu. 

Tamia and I sit on one couch. 

“I’m the one who brought these people here.” MaNdlovu says.

“On my wedding day? How tasteful”, I say.

“Uthini?!” MaNdlovu.

“I said –

“Ntuthuko!” My dad. 

“How can we help you?” Tamia. Everyone looks at her like she has no right to speak. 

“We are here to collect our children”, Mbali says.

Tamia actually laughs. 

Everyone stares at her. 

“Something funny?” An elder from one of these women’s family says.

Tamia just laughs at them. 

I’m also getting uncomfortable now because these people are getting upset. Tamia stands up. She walks out of the room, leaving all of us very confused. My dad even looks at me because really, what the hell?! 

Tamia is back in no time and is handing these women envelopes. Yoh! She’s really doing now?! 

“Those are legal papers advising you that Ntuthuko and I have initiated an application for sole custody of these kids. While social workers will be interviewing the kids, they’ll also be coming to each of your houses and workplaces to observe the kind of environments that you have created for the kids. Until the investigation is done, they stay with Ntuthuko and me.” Tamia says.

The looks on each of these faces! 

“Those are our kids! You have no right to do this! First, you interfere with how Ntuthuko parents his kids. Now this?! Ntuthuko hasn’t even paid damages for these kids! These kids don’t know him! All they know is his money! Who do you think you are?!” Khethiwe.

“I think I’m the woman you dumped your kids on because you wanted to prove a point. I’m the woman who has been living with your kids for the past month because my husband stopped being cash-cow in your lives! I’m the woman who your children have been calling mother for the last month after you left them at my workplace with a woman you had never met before! What did you think would happen? And best believe we’ve told this to the social workers to show how unfit you are as mothers!” Tamia is really hectic.

“Ntuthuko, khuza isifebe sakho!” Bavumile.

“Ngempela siyadelelwa la. This is not how we do things. Worse, these instructions are coming from inkosikazi ye-five minutes?” An elder.

“Yona leyo nkosikazi was dumped with these children. Or what? Ngiyipopayi yenu mina? To dance on my head as and when it suits you?” Tamia.

“Sisi, we are sorry for leaving our kids with you the way that we did… but I’m begging you! Please don’t take these kids away from us.” Nomfundo.

“I’m not taking them away from you. I’m thinking about their stability. Kids need stability and you’ve proven that you cannot give them that. They’ll visit you during school holidays and long weekends. But we will take full custody.” Tamia. 

“Ntuthuko! Say something! She can’t do this!” Mbali.

“It’s done. This is my wedding day. We will be in touch about paying damages. Everything else, the court will decide. I’m going back to my guests.” Tamia says as she stands up. 

The room is left…

KUNZIMA!